April 2011 – Theatre Aficionado at Large

Barbara Harris in “On a Clear Day You Can See Forever”

I’m a big fan of Barbara Harris, make no bones about it. She’s a fascinating performer with a unique comic sensibility. For musical theatre fans, she’s most famous for her two back to back shows On a Clear Day You Can See Forever and The Apple Tree, earning Tony nominations for both (and a win for the latter). These are performances that theatregoers of the 1960s are still talking about today. I think in part it’s because Harris never returned to Broadway after The Apple Tree (Walter Kerr deemed her performance in the Bock & Harnick show “the square root of noisy sex”).

Harris found relative stardom in Hollywood in Robert Altman’s Nashville, Alfred Hitchcock’s Family Plot (as a phony medium), and as Jodie Foster’s mom in the first Freaky Friday. She was also Oscar nominated in 1970 for Who is Harry Kellerman and Why Is He Saying Those Terrible Things About Me?, but shifted out of show business in the 80s and 90s (her last film role was in Grosse Point Blank in 1997). In a 2002 interview she claimed that she was more interested in the acting process than fame or even being successful, and says she doesn’t miss performing (definitely our loss).

Here’s a glimpse at her performance in On a Clear Day You Can See Forever, from a Bell Telephone Hour special on Alan Jay Lerner in 1966. She is joined by co-star John Cullum presenting a series of numbers (“Hurry! It’s Lovely Up Here!,” “Melinda,” “On the S.S. Bernard Cohn,” “What Did I Have That I Don’t Have?” and the title song). The musical itself is truly original – Lerner was interested in exploring ESP and reincarnation. Originally I Picked a Daisy, it was to have a music by Richard Rodgers. However, Burton Lane eventually wrote the music (Lerner and Lane previously worked on the 1951 musical Royal Wedding for MGM).

The show played the Mark Hellinger Theatre for 280 performances. There was chaos during the try-out in Boston. Lerner was taking amphetamines at the time, and that got in the way of his writing. Original leading man Louis Jordan was let go in Boston, as were several other actors whose roles were eliminated. The show opened in NY to less than stellar reviews, but Harris’ kooky Daisy, a girl who hears phones before they ring and can talk flowers out of the ground, charmed audiences. The original cast album has preserved the best of the show – namely the cast and the beautiful score. There have been attempts to revise the show almost from the outset, but will be seen in a wholly new version opening on Broadway in the fall (Daisy is now David). And the less said about the 1970 film adaptation, the better.

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“The People in the Picture”

I’m convinced Donna Murphy can do anything. I firmly believe this from having seen her past performances, however, the versatility of the two-time Tony winner never fails to surprises me every time. That she manages to captivate, entrance and devastate as Raisel (or Bubbie) in the otherwise forgettable The People in the Picture, now playing at Studio 54, is only a testament to her immense talent. Wearing a grey wig, glasses and a house dress, Ms. Murphy (who is one of the most gorgeous women on Broadway) is utterly convincing as a Polish immigrant and Jewish grandmother, a woman who adores her granddaughter and desires to pass down to her the truth of the Holocaust and her life before, during and after Nazi oppression and depravity, but whose health and mental faculties are fading fast.

Murphy alternates between the younger and older version of her character as fragments of her story are told. The transformation is stunning; the most subtle and nuanced shift in body language add or subtract fifty years in the blink of an eye. Murphy is also playing an actress and has the opportunity to partake in Yiddish theatre sketches and send-ups of old films, including one memorable scene as a Dybbuk. Ultimately Murphy is forced to rise above her material and carry the entire show on those thin shoulders. It’s not an easy burden to bear, but she does so with absolute professionalism and grace.

The idea behind The People in the Picture is admirable: a multi-generational family dealing with their internal troubles while stressing the importance of cultural identity and historic legacy. The ideas and ideals are so strong and ambition that it makes the show’s failure all the more disappointing. Iris Rainer Dart’s script is laden with cliches, hammy dialogue and is chock full of cheap sentiment. Raisel’s memories and recollections bring to life the title characters, theatre folk from her past. There is a lot of shtick, fragmented storytelling and an overall lack of clarity. (The memories from the picture: are they merely memories or are they ghosts haunting Raisel? If memories, how does Raisel’s long lost lover bring her closure?)

The score, with music by Mike Stoller or Artie Butler, is mostly unmemorable; an incohesive mix of klezmer and pastiche. Even worse are Dart’s lyrics, which are so rote and poorly rhymed they at times feel like parody. The nadir comes in the soliloquy “Red’s Dilemma”, in which the daughter expresses mixed emotions whether or not she should put her mother in a nursing home. However, there is one lovely song in the second act, “Selective Memory,” as Raisel sings to the specter of her long lost love Chaim about the strong memories she still holds onto. It provided the most genuine moment of emotion in the entire score.

Nicole Parker, who possesses a captivating voice, presents a woman facing the difficulties of becoming a parent to her own parent. Rachel Resneff as Maisel’s granddaughter, is supposed to be wise beyond her years but comes off completely disingenuous. The title characters, of Raisel’s Warsaw Gang (and supporting cast), are all archetypes and stereotypes; broadly drawn figures of larger-than-life theatre people. Alexander Gemignani and Christopher Innvar play the men of Raisel’s life, but have little to work with. Hal Robinson plays the dying impresario while Joyce Van Patten gets the one genuinely funny line in the whole show as an aging diva. Lewis J. Stadlen and Chip Zien play off each other like old vaudevillians. They are all wonderful performers, but unable to rise above the material as Murphy does so effortlessly.

The musical’s second act is better than the abysmal first, most specifically for the final twenty minutes in which Raisel’s secrets are finally revealed. At the height of Nazi power and out of fear for her safety, Raisel gave up her daughter to save her life, then after the war took her back from the barren Gentile couple who took her in. The resentment and bitterness has existed between them, unspoken, ever since. This inevitable “truth will set you free” revelation is where the audience is finally told the truth in its entirety. Afterward comes the denouement and requisite deathbed scene. Even those around me who were suppressing laughter throughout much of the first act were getting choked up. This was The People in the Picture at its most compelling, but it was simply not enough.

“Born Yesterday”

Luminous, effervescent, captivating, staggering, astonishing, breathtaking. These are all words I have used in the past five days to describe Nina Arianda’s star-making performance as Billie Dawn in the smashing new revival of Born Yesterday. The truth is these adjectives don’t even begin to describe the magic currently happening onstage at the Cort Theatre. Ms. Arianda isn’t merely making a Broadway debut, she is effortlessly establishing herself as one of the brightest new faces in American theatre. (For the record, I missed Ms. Arianda’s off-Broadway triumph in Venus in Fur and the sound that you hear is me kicking myself).

She makes her entrance casually, gaudily dressed and entirely unimpressed with the opulent $235 a night hotel suite, her tycoon boyfriend’s braggadocio and the world of Washington politics. She quickly exits, but already an impression has been made. In the meantime other characters are talking, extolling necessary exposition that will come to impact the play’s climax and denouement. But it’s already too late for everyone else onstage. The tall, lithe blonde has merely walked across the stage and yet already captivated an entire audience. By the end of Born Yesterday, Arianda’s Billie has earned not only our love, but our respect and admiration.

Much of the credit is due to author Garson Kanin, who wrote in many interesting layers and memorable lines for the character. (When asked, “What’s Democratic?” Billie replies, “Not Republican.”) When the tycoon realizes she may become a liability in Washington circles, he hires a reporter to smooth out her rough edges. She resists these early attempts, insisting that she enjoys being dumb and that she is happy with what she has. But Billie Dawn is someone who has sacrificed her career, her relationship with her father and her dignity for a man who treats her as a business commodity, often brusquely and brutally. Knowledge is power, which the tycoon only realizes when it’s too late and she threatens his business exploits. It makes it all the more thrilling to watch her grow and become obsessed with learning, from asking questions. I haven’t felt so thrilled for a singular characterization in some time; Ms. Arianda is likely to become a sensation, not unlike the role’s originator Judy Holliday.

Jim Belushi plays Harry Brock, an uncouth junk tycoon who blusters his way through life and business, a contemptible bully. He is a mess of instant contradictions: embarrassed by Billie’s lack of social graces while raving about like an uncouth jackass. Much of his performance is pitched higher (even a reference to his yelling in the script), but Belushi provides a fantastic antagonist. Robert Sean Leonard is reporter Paul Verrall, idealistic but cynical; a man for whom integrity is important. It’s not the showiest of the roles, but Mr. Leonard plays him with utter sincerity, but could bring up the romantic spark a few notches.

Frank Wood plays Brock’s self-loathing alcoholic attorney who was once Attorney General, but is easily bought. Wood effectively portrayed these elements of the character, but there were some issues with his diction at the performance I attended. Michael McGrath lurks and menaces as Brock’s cousin and main henchman. Patricia Hodges makes a delicious cameo as a haughty senator’s wife. The cast of thirteen also includes Terry Beaver, Jennifer Regan and Danny Rutigliano in small, but memorable appearances.

While there are some creaky moments, I was most surprised by the play’s relevance. It’s a product of its time, and some of the sensibilities date. However, it was not much of a stretch from 1946 to 2011 watching a corrupt tycoon try to buy government support for his dubious business practices. Harry Brock is a larger-than-life antecedent of those CEOs and banks who brought the country to the brink of financial ruin in 2008. He’s brash, bombastic and so rich that he thinks he’s entitled to everything he wants. He will bully and abuse everyone from a bell-hop to U.S Senator. In our reality, he would most likely get his way. However, Kanin reminds us that the people are the government.

Director Doug Hughes, whose revival of The Royal Family was also a sumptuous period feast, stages Kanin’s text with a deft comic touch. These actors are playing for character and not laughs, making it a warmer experience than I even anticipated. The experience is heightened by the lavish set and costumes, with stunning period detail. John Lee Beatty’s divine navy blue and gold trimmed hotel suite earns gasps and applause as the curtain rises while Catherine Zuber’s costumes are perfection (the way she dresses Billie Dawn as she transforms is pure genius). It’s the best sort of eye candy.

Beg, borrow or steal. Do whatever you can to get to the Cort Theatre. Nina Arianda is not to be missed.

“High”

Matthew Lombardo’s new play High closes today after only 8 performances, despite the megawatt presence of star Kathleen Turner. The concept is fascinating. A “been there, done that” addiction counseling nun with the mouth of a sailor tackling the case of a teenage meth addicted male prostitute. Adding to the complications is the priest, whose ulterior motives become clearer as the play progresses. However, the resulting play isn’t as fascinating, failing to offer the insight and nuance one would hope for. However, in spite of its shortcomings, High remains compulsively watchable.

Turner – in her first Broadway outing since her triumphant Martha in Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? – is Sister Jamison, a takes-no-guff nun unlike any I’ve ever known in my life (and I was brought up in Catholic school). Ms. Turner commands the stage with every fiber of her being, coolly decked out in lay clothes that make her look like a Chase Bank teller. She’s a recovering alcoholic who harbors some deep seated regrets that inform the plays ideas of redemption and forgiveness. Turner rises above the banal dialogue and weak jokes to create an intriguing portrait of a most unlikely nun. She’s a fountain of energy and while perhaps a bit too theatrical at times, the Tony-nominated star is never short of fascinating.

Her scenes partners are Stephen Kunken as Fr. Michael, her superior and newcomer Evan Jonigkeit who plays an exceptionally troubled young addict named Cody. There are ulterior motives involved – including all-too-convenient revelations (the priest is the addict’s long lost uncle). Kunken, whose character is the most understated of the three, anchors the play and serves as the catalyst for much of the action, butting heads with Sister Jami, but also covering up her falls off the wagon. Kunken gives Fr. Michael a profound sense of dignity and moral obligation, which leads him – an experienced head of a substance abuse center – to bend and break rules and ultimately enable his nephew’s addiction.

Mr. Jonigkeit has given an exceptional debut performance as Cody, for whom the deck has been stacked: unwanted by his addict prostitute mother, raped by and pimped out by her boyfriend, beaten, abused and emotionally neglected. While his performance early in the first act was pitched too high, Jonigkeit eventually walked away with the show with his riveting portrait of an addict. He simultaneously demands the audience’s sympathy and revulsion. There was a particularly terrifying scene at the end of the first act where a high Cody removes his clothes and sexually assaults Sr. Jamison. I think the nudity was a bit gratuitous, but the intent behind the scene was chilling. (It was a relief to me when she overpowered him and body slammed him). In spite of the show’s failure, I think Jonigkeit will be a young performer to watch, especially considering how well and played opposite Ms. Turner.

There is nothing unpredictable about this downbeat play, with one minor exception – when Cody confesses his sins to her (which required more than a stretch of my imagination), she rejects him on learning the truth and at the moment when he needs comfort most, which is about as far from the compassion expected of someone in the religious order. It offered the most fascinating moment for Turner in the entire play, and one that showed the highly skilled actress at her most riveting.

The main problems go back to the text. The idea, like I said, is interesting. But too much of the dialogue feels like the cliches we’ve heard in other pieces about addiction and veers too easily into the melodramatic. There are no real surprises and you know how the play will end from the first scene, the rare attempts at humor only go so far (he stretches the joke of Sr. Jamison’s foul language too far) and the curtain line felt rather cheap.Sister Jamison’s confessional monologues in between scenes feel tacked on. Also, in terms of the conflict between a nun and priest, I was too often reminded of the far more riveting Doubt. The tension between Fr. Michael and Sr. Jamison never reaches the fever pitch as it does between Fr. Flynn and Sr. Aloysius, but there are parallels in the struggle to reconcile one’s duty with one’s faith and the moral ambiguity of the religious life.

I didn’t see Looped, Mr. Lombardo’s play about Tallulah Bankhead that played 33 performances last season, but I am familiar with his Tea at Five, the one woman vehicle he wrote about Katharine Hepburn. In both Tea at Five and High, the playwright tends to go for style over substance – offering strong female characters, divas in their own right (Kathleen Turner as a nun? No way she’s going to be a shrinking violet) but little depth. However, because the idea behind the play is so fascinating, I do think that Mr. Lombardo was perhaps several drafts away from a more finished work. I wish it was that finished play that had played the Booth Theatre.

“Lovely Ladies, Kind Gentlemen”

The other night I settled in to watch the film adaptation of The Teahouse of the August Moon, an East meets West comedy about the 1946 occupation of Okinawa by the American military. I’ve never read John Patrick’s play (based on the novel by Vern J. Sneider) and I’m sure that productions are few and far between for this once celebrated Tony and Pulitzer Prize winner, so I decided to watch it on a whim. I shared this info on Twitter as I started watching, but soon found myself distracted by the unexpected responses I received regarding the failed 1970 musical adaptation of the play called Lovely Ladies, Kind Gentlemen, which played three weeks on Broadway. (The musical’s title comes from the first line of the play).

When the original play opened in 1953, David Wayne won Best Actor in a Play Tony for his portrayal of the Okinawan Sakini (and was replaced by Burgess Meredith and Eli Wallach). The 1956 film star Marlon Brando in the same role. For the musical, Kenneth Nelson (The Fantasticks) was hired. The musical featured a cast of 45 actors, 12 of whom were Asian American. The Oriental Actors of America picketed the theatre on opening night, accusing the production of discrimination and incensed that no Asian actors were auditioned for the role of Sakini. (Miss Saigon went through something similar when Jonathan Pryce was cast as the Engineer).

The score was written by Stan Freeman (I Had a Ball) and Franklin Underwood (his sole Broadway credit), with a book by playwright Patrick. Marc Breaux supplied the choreography to Lawrence Kasha’s direction. Clive Barnes wrote in the New York Times, “If the music of a musical doesn’t work, if the lyrics don’t sing, and if the book is best left unread – you have an awful lot of strikes against you.” Barnes unintentionally caused a bit of chaos by opening his review by stating “Oh dear, I come to bury Lovely Ladies, Kind Gentlemen, not to praise it.” which led to a picketing of the NY Times building by the cast and crew.

With the reviews mostly negative, a closing notice was posted immediately but taken down when the cast and crew agreed to a pay cut. The creative team dispensed with royalties while the Shubert Organization offered assistance in the form of a reduced rental rate for the Majestic Theatre. Producer Herman Levin wrote a lengthy letter to the editor chastising Barnes and blaming the show’s inevitable failure on the critic.

The show eked out a run of 19 performances. Nelson moved to England and never returned to Broadway. David Burns died onstage a mere two months later in the Philadelphia tryout of 70, Girls, 70. Burns, an audience favorite who received raves, would receive a posthumous Tony nomination for Best Actor in a Musical, one of two Tony nominations Lovely Ladies, Kind Gentlemen received (the other was for Freddie Wittop’s costumes). No cast album was made.

Here is “Simple Words,” a lovely duet between Ron Husmann and Eleanor Calbes and the second act musical comedy turn “Call Me Back,” a rare glimpse into a long forgotten musical:

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Ginger Rogers as Mame

While watching this clip, I realized that Angela Lansbury never transferred any of her Tony award winning performances to London’s West End. She starred in the original London production of Gypsy in 1973, but that production transferred to Broadway the following year. Sheila Hancock would be the West End’s first Mrs. Lovett in Sweeney Todd. While Lansbury was appearing on Broadway in Dear World, an Oscar winning Hollywood legend was opening in Mame in the West End: Ginger Rogers. A few years earlier, Rogers had been a Broadway replacement in Hello, Dolly!

The production ran for a little over a year at the Drury Lane Theatre. Lawrence Kasha restaged Gene Saks’ direction while Onna White recreated her own choreography. No original London cast album was made (though there are rumors that one was recorded but never released, as singing was never Rogers’ strongest suit). The show was less rapturously received in London than it was on Broadway, with many of the critics agreeing that the evening hinged on Rogers’ personality and star quality (for better or for worse). Margaret Courtenay was Vera, Burt Kwouk (from The Pink Panther films) was Ito and Julia McKenzie was Gloria Upson. Ms. Rogers was supposed to star in a French version of the show, but that fell through. She later appeared in the role again in Houston (in the round, no less) in late 1971, about the same time she toured in Coco.

This is a performance of the show’s famed title song on the Royal Variety Performance. Ginger doesn’t sing or speak a single word, but dances up a storm. She brings glamour and beauty to the part, even if it’s not quite the real thing.(Special thanks to Steven C. Cates for bringing this clip to my attention).

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Here’s a short newsreel covering the pre-production and opening night, with some color film of Ginger looking quite stunning in Robert MacIntosh’s fabulous costumes.

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Funny Women: Patricia Routledge

One of the joys of Netflix (and possibly its downfall as well) is finding shows streaming in their entirety. One of these shows is the British hit Keeping Up Appearances starring the one and only Patricia Routledge as the one and only Hyacinth Bucket, the irrepressible social climbing snob. While the writing is rarely up to the quality of the cast, the show is often quite funny with Hyacinth getting carried away with herself and foiled by her down-to-earth relatives and friends. One of my favorite episodes is the one where she was desperate to get a part in a local production of The Boy Friend and spontaneously burst into song at the drop of a hat.

Routledge was the subject of an episode of the BBC series Funny Women, which profiled some of the funnier female stars of British stage and television, including Maureen Lipman and Prunella Scales. I relish in every opportunity I have to see Routledge’s film and TV work, as I was not yet born when her stage career was at its peak in the mid-70s and early 80s. Even if the shows themselves failed (as was the case with her Broadway career), critics and audiences fell in love with the vivacious comic soprano. She won a Tony for Darling of the Day, which lasted 31 performances in 1968 (and should be the next Jule Styne score heard at Encores!). The star could have taken the audience home in her pocket after her memorable “Duet for One” in the otherwise loathed 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue (which ran only 7 performances).

The half hour episode briefly touches on her whole career, but focuses mostly on her TV work featuring interviews with the Ms. Routledge, Alan Bennett, Michael Frayn, Nigel Hawthorne and TV leading men Clive Swift and Dominic Monaghan. One of the things I especially loved was that people came up to Hawthorne after a gala performance and exclaimed “I never knew Patricia Routledge could sing!” I’ve had the same conversation myself many, many times. (And I would just love to have the entire clip of her singing “I Want to Sing in Opera”). Enjoy.

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Three from the “Applause Libretto Library Series”

While the American musical was at the peak of its popularity, the publishing industry took notice and would publish libretti, especially Random House. Released in hardcover editions, the books presented the entire text of the musical play (spoken and sung) with simplified stage directions to help maintain the narrative. I have a few of these – and in some cases (Candide, Follies), these editions are the only window original script.

It didn’t seem to matter whether the show was a mammoth or minor success, and in some cases even a failure. I have copies of Gypsy, New Girl in Town and The Apple Tree and whenever I can find these vintage copies I pick them up. When I was in college I got to read Anyone Can Whistle’s hot mess of a book thanks to the published copy sitting in the stacks of our library. Many of my first experiences with a stage musical’s text came from these editions. While I was introduced viscerally through film adaptations, I was curious enough to venture to my library to find the book form. The first libretti I read were The Music Man and The Sound of Music and as someone who was unaware of how a show was adapted (and in some cases bowdlerized and bastardized – I’m looking at you Freed Unit), I was surprised to see how different the shows were in their original stage incarnations. Having not seen some of the productions myself, these texts filled in the gaps between songs on many an original cast album.

As the musical fell out of vogue, it seems that the major publishers lost interest. Where Random House has lost interest (major publishers tend to take on smash musicals in lavish and expensive special coffee table editions), Applause Theatre and Cinema Books and Theatre Communications Group have taken up the effort. Between the two of them, many contemporary musicals have been published in text form. (Dramatist’s Play Service and Samuel French also publish libretti, but those are more detailed copies specifically designated for actors).

Recently Applause released three new editions. Classic Rodgers and Hammerstein shows Oklahoma! and The Sound of Music have rarely been out of print, but receive new trade paperback editions as part of the Applause Libretto Library Series. There are new introductions from R&H’s Ted Chapin, who comments that the text is taken verbatim from the original Random House editions. While Oklahoma! will continue to be performed as it was originally written, it is not the same for The Sound of Music, as all subsequent revivals have been influenced by the immensely popular film adaptation and incorporating those changes. Rereading The Sound of Music, there is one way in which the stage show intrigues me – there is no rivalry between Maria and Elsa. In the stage show, Elsa (not a baroness, but a shrewd, stylish CEO) has far more interesting dimensions and for one thing actually likes Maria. The break-up has more to do with the differences between her and the Captain over the impending Nazi takeover. Both editions contain photos from their various productions, revivals and film adaptations.

The third entry is the recent smash Avenue Q, the little off-Broadway musical that could (and did). The 2004 Best Musical winner was previously published as part of a lavish (by puppet standards) hardcover book, but this new edition is text only and a little easier on the budget. The tongue is still planted firmly in cheek, even in book form: there’s a Puppet Police warning in lieu of the regular disclaimer about performance rights (which, incidentally, are available from MTI). Librettist Jeff Whitty has written an afterword in which he discusses the changes that have been made since the show’s original off-Broadway run, including those for the London run, the aftermath of Gary Coleman’s untimely death and the famous George Bush shout out in “For Now.” More enigmatically, Whitty mentions that he deleted one word from this published script, but won’t elaborate what it is. (Perhaps there are some Q aficionados out there who could figure out what it is?)

The Libretto series continues with two more contemporary entries: The Last Five Years and Memphis. I can tell you, it makes this musical theatre nerd a happy camper.