Ernest in Love

I’ll never forget the first time I heard Ernest in Love, the musical adaptation of Oscar Wilde’s The Importance of Being Earnest. The cast album CD had just been released by DRG in 2003, and I was familiar with the play from high school and college readings so I was curious to see how it fared on disc. Aside from its overture and two songs, most of it didn’t stick and I didn’t listen to the recording again for some time.

However, once word came that the Irish Repertory Theatre was going to revive the obscurity, I made it a goal to head down to catch a performance. As my Irish luck would have it, I received an invitation from the group itself to cover it. (Add to it, Charlotte Moore, director of the production and Artistic Director of the organization handed me my tickets!) I admit I was excited too because I was bringing Ms. Roxie along with me, Anglophile, Earnest enthusiast and all-around musical theatre fan.

The musical, written by Lee Pockriss and Anne Croswell, was originally an hour long TV musical called Who’s Earnest? which aired on the US Steel Hour in 1957. The expanded version of the show opened off-Broadway in 1960 to positive reviews but closed after 103 performances. (In contrast, The Fantasticks opened off-Broadway the night before… just saying). An original cast album was made, and the show has been available for licensing so it hasn’t fallen completely off the radar.

The major problem with Ernest in Love is that it’s a completely unnecessary musical. There are some songs which are quite good, and others which are quite dull. More importantly, none of the songs has anything to add to one of the most important comic plays of the last hundreds years or so. Pockriss came from the world of pop music with one hit song “Catch a Falling Star” and Croswell was in advertising jingles. Their work is admirable, if nothing that really stands out. The duo would later reunite for the 1963 musical Tovarich (which I admit, I listen to more than Ernest) which won Vivien Leigh a Tony award, but whose offstage drama was more memorable than the show itself.

The Irish Rep is presenting a most charming, elegant production of the show (now playing through February 14) with a cast headlined by Tony nominee Beth Fowler as the imperious Lady Bracknell. Things got off to a it of a shaky start with a sung overture a la Night Music featuring some excessive “swayography,” but once the actual play was up and running, things settled in rather nicely for a warm, enjoyable evening.

Song-and-dance man Noah Racey was a little out of place as Jack Worthing, but managed to overcome his stiffness in the second act. Ian Holcomb is appropriately infuriating as the foppish Algernon Montcrief, who both resembles and channels Wilde himself in his flamboyantly arch characterization. Fowler’s arch Lady Bracknell (always the crowdpleaser) uses the character’s stoicism to great comic effect, and soars with a near showstopping rendition of “A Handbag is Not a Proper Mother” (and yes, she had an excellent delivery of “A handbag?”). Annika Boras was absolute perfection as Gwendolyn; while Katie Fabel scored major laughs as Cecily, though her singing voice didn’t seem quite up to the demands of her major song (“A Wicked Man”).

Moore’s direction is strong, making great use of the venue. I have never been inside the Irish Repertory Theatre before, but it’s a beautiful space perfect for chamber musicals, much like this one. In a larger space, the show couldn’t and mostly likely wouldn’t work as well as it does here. The sets and costumes are charming, even if Algernon’s robe is a trifle too Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat for a period musical. The orchestration consisting of piano, harp and string sits off stage right, is perfection; complementing both the material onstage as well as the performance space.

There aren’t many folks out there clamoring for a production of Ernest in Love, so it’s fortuitous that the Irish Rep has given theatre fans (especially cult musical enthusiasts like myself) the opportunity to see a full-scale production. However, don’t be surprised if you find yourself anticipating the book scenes during the musical numbers – the best of the evening still belongs to Mr. Wilde.

It’s Enough to Make a Fellow Fall in Love


Here’s a press shot of Patricia Routledge in her Tony-winning performance as Alice Challice in the failed Jule Styne-Yip Harburg musical Darling of the Day. The show lasted 31 performances at the George Abbott Theater (now the site of the Michelangelo Hotel) in 1968. In spite of the musical’s fast failure (which lost an astronomical $750,000), there are many merits within the show and score; friends and fellow bloggers know that I have long championed a revival.

Alice Challice is something of an unsung heroine of the musical theatre. She’s warm, vibrant, vivacious and pragmatic – a young widow living quietly in Putney who refuses to conform to the loneliness of widowhood. Endeavoring to get married, she uses a marriage broker to establish a correspondence with a nobleman artist’s valet. The role calls for a sensible, yet fun-loving comic soprano, “youngish,” whose material runs the gamut from tender ballads to raucous music hall numbers. There aren’t too many theatre fans familiar with Alice, but if they were it’s likely they would fall madly in love with her.

The show, which was a troubled vehicle for Vincent Price (!), failed rather miserably. It was based on Arnold Bennett’s comic novel Buried Alive about a shy British artist (Price) who switches identities with his dead valet “get out of the world alive” In doing so, he also takes up the deceased’s association with the Widow Challice, with whom he falls in love. An expectedly convoluted farce ensues where he paints under his pseudonym and is found out by snobbish art dealers, when all hell breaks loose.

Out of town reception was rather bleak, with critical pans in Toronto and Boston (in the latter city, Peter Filichia said it was one of the worst musicals he had ever seen, but much improved when he saw it in NY). There was a lack of steady direction, with four directors, two choreographers and five bookwriters. (Nunnally Johnson removed his name prior to opening night leaving the libretto without a credit). In spite of all this trouble the musical actually received a surprising amount of positive reviews. The only full-out pan was the estimable New York Times. Clive Barnes opted out of reviewing the show for the paper and it went to second stringer Dan Sullivan instead, who filed his wholly negative assessment. Barnes himself actually visited the show shortly thereafter and looked on it favorably. The Times also had Walter Kerr in the show’s corner, offering his Sunday column as a valentine to her many abilities. Kerr gave the leading lady one of my favorite pull-quotes of all time: “If you don’t catch her act now, you’ll someday want to kill yourself.” (He immediately added “I’ll help you.”)

Lying in the rubble of the show was Routledge’s Tony win (an award she shared with Leslie Uggams of Hallelujah, Baby!) is the show’s original cast album, which is a charming delight and showcases two major assets – Routledge and the elegant and vibrant score by Styne and Harburg (Styne considered this his “Lerner & Loewe” score and his second favorite of his own musicals behind Gypsy). The show has been rather well-received recently in a couple of engagements at Mufti, which saw revisions made to the book and score in an attempt to refurbish the vehicle. Those revisions were supervised by Erik Haagensen, playwright and Backstage critic, who also made an attempt to fix Routledge’s other failed Broadway musical, 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue in the early 1990s.

There was a shoddy live recording made of the show’s opening night performance which plays like a raucous hit. The audience lapped up the stars, doling out entrance applause for the two above the title, as well as character actress Brenda Forbes. The most vociferous reactions were reserved for Routledge, who stopped the show with her first number “It’s Enough to Make a Lady Fall in Love, as well as her reflective “That Something Extra Special” towards the end of the first act. The actress all but reduced the theatre to rubble with her eleven o’clock number “Not on Your Nellie.” During her ovation for the latter (which lasted a full minute), she can be heard very faintly asking incredulously “Is this all for me?” then after a beat pleading the audience “Ladies and gentlemen, if you please.” The audience took this as a cue to give one more cheer before allowing the company to the continue.

As I sit here writing, I realize that the musical opened on this day forty-two years ago. It’s a show that isn’t licensed for stock/amateur performances and has had very few revivals, the RCA cast album has been out of print for many years, but has resurfaced recently via ArkivMusic. The show remains off the beaten path, a lost gem that has brought me a great deal of joy.

Should Encores! (as I want to hear those vibrant orchestrations from Ralph Burns) take up the show, there is only one person in my estimation who should play Alice Challice (and I have Ken Mandelbaum’s agreement on this front) and that is Victoria Clark. What strikes me the most about this particular press shot is the uncanny resemblance between Clark and Routledge, as they share a similar voice type, sensibility and the honor of the Best Actress in a Musical Tony. By extension, I think David Hyde Pierce is ideal for the artist. Then I’d toss in Gavin Lee for the music hall numbers, and Edward Hibbert and Judy Kaye as the noblesse-oblige for good measure.

Darling of the Day is a gem just aching for rediscovery.

The Barn Dance


Seven Brides for Seven Brothers was a rather small-scale film that came out of nowhere in 1954 to become one of the biggest hits of the year. Produced by MGM, the musical found its budget cut and studio bound as the musical unit decided to put its money into lavish film versions of Brigadoon and Rose Marie. Filmed on the soundstage with painted backdrops and a shoestring budget, filming wrapped in 48 days, the suits convinced they had a solid B picture on their hands. What they really had was an unstoppable blockbuster.

Based on Stephen Vincent Benét’s short story “The Sobbin Women,” itself an update of Plutarch’s story of the Sabine (Sabine, Sobbin’, get it?) women in Lives of Romulus, the story deals with seven backwoods brothers in Oregon who take an interest in getting a wife. When eldest Adam hurriedly marries feisty but warm Milly, he inspires the others to get their own wives – by kidnapping their lady friends and holding them at their remote cabin until the winter thaw.

Howard Keel and Jane Powell were signed on for the leads. Gene De Paul supplied the music, Johnny Mercer wrote the lyrics. The film was directed by Stanley Donen, who’d gained clout for his co-direction of On the Town and Singin’ in the Rain with Gene Kelly. Michael Kidd, who won Tony Awards for his choreography of Guys and Dolls and Can-Can, and also supplied dancing for the MGM hit The Band Wagon, was signed on to provide musical staging. Kidd’s choreography on this picture would prove to be some of the most noted of his film career, particularly the Barn Dance during the first half of the picture.

After Milly has cleaned up the men, and taught them how to politely and properly court a girl, they show up at a Barn Raising and there is a dance off between the six remaining brothers and the suitors of their prospective lady friends. (The other six brothers were played by Jeff Richards (professional baseball player), Russ Tamblyn (acrobat), Matt Mattox, Jacques d’Amboise, Marc Platt and Tommy Rall (all dancers). The brides were all professional dancers, the notable standout being young Julie Newmeyer, who change her last name to Newmar and find great success as Catwoman on the 60s Batman series. Kidd’s dancing is legendary. Here is the result:
Seven Brides for Seven Brothers-Barn Dance –

The film became a sleeper hit of the year, outgrossing both Rose Marie and Brigadoon. It ended up a leading contender at the Academy Awards, surprising the studio when it was nominated for Best Film Editing, Best Cinematography, Best Screenplay and, of all things, Best Picture. It won for Best Scoring of a Musical Picture.

The property has maintained its popularity over the years – a stage version was commissioned in the late 70s with Lawrence Kashka and David Landay supplemented the score with some new numbers. Powell and Keel reprised their roles for this initial tour, but when the show moved to Broadway Debby Boone and David-James Carroll were in the leads. The musical was a noted flop on Broadway, lasting a mere 5 performances at the Alvin Theatre in 1982. A London company in 1985 was met with considerably more success, and even produced a cast album of the stage score. The stage version was overhauled in 2005 and is currently licensed. The film also inspired a TV series that ran on CBS from 1982-83.

London audiences were quite taken with the stage adaptation, and it has already received a West End revival. This past August, during the broadcast of the famed Proms, conductor Jon Wilson wanted to present some lighter music for audiences from American film musicals. In performing “The Barn Dance,” he find himself at an arduous task for MGM threw out orchestrations for their films once recording was completed. Wilson reconstructed Conrad Salinger’s original orchestrations by piecing together short scores and parts, and even drawing aurally from the film soundtrack. Here is their performance from August 3, 2009:

"Tovah: Out of Her Mind"

Tovah Feldshuh, last seen on Broadway in Irena’s Vow, has a touring show that she has done in concert and cabaret venues. Her musical theatre experience is well documented. She starred in the shortlived Sarava in 1979 (where she sounded exactly like Joan Diener – it’s uncanny) and a few years back in the Paper Mill Playhouse revival of Hello, Dolly! Here’s Tovah living up to her title.

John Wayne loved Noel Coward?

Dick Cavett in today’s NY Times recalls a conversation with John Wayne on the set of The Shootist, the Duke’s final film in which the rugged star of war films and westerns talks about his love of Noel Coward’s work:

Wayne: Wasn’t he great?

Me (Cavett): Who?

Wayne: Coward.

Me [startled, realizing now that the tune was Noel Coward’s “Someday I’ll Find You”]: Yes.

Wayne: I’ve always loved his stuff. Remember the scene in “Private Lives” when they realize they still love each other?

Me: Yes, and did you know there’s a recording of Coward and Gertrude Lawrence doing that scene?

Wayne: Gee, I gotta get that. I guess I’ve read most of his plays.

Me [still not convinced there isn’t a ventriloquist in the room]: I’ll send you the record.

Wayne: Well, thank ya. I like the line [he switched to quite passable upper-class British], “You’re looking very lovely you know, in this damned moonlight.”

Me: I did a show with Coward and, as he introduced them, “My dearest friends, Alfred Lunt and Lynn Fontanne.”

Wayne: I sure would love to have seen them in “Design for Living.” [Mentally I reach again for the smelling salts.] And, damn, I’d love to see that show of yours.

Me: I’ll see that you do. [Jesus! Did I? Oh, I hope so.]

Wayne: That’d be awful nice of ya.

Me: Did you ever think of doing one of his plays?

Wayne: Yeah, but it never got past the thought stage. I guess they figured that maybe spurs and “Blithe Spirit” wouldn’t go together. Can’t you see the critics? “Wayne should go back to killing Indians, not Noel Coward.”

Tyne Daly: "The Second Time Around"


Early in her set at Feinstein’s at the Regency, Tyne Daly takes a moment to reflect on the puns that have been made on her name in various songs and quotes, etc. She insists there isn’t one she hasn’t heard – and dared the audience to try and stump her. She uses this moment as a thematic stepping stone for her latest cabaret act, “The Second Time Around” as the actress has been brought back to the venue by popular demand. It exemplifies her wit and somewhat quirky sense of humor and self. Ms. Daly then proceeds to offer a master class in lyric interpretation, imparting sincerity into every single word and phrase she speaks and sings.

I’ve known of Tyne for many years – my first exposure being, of all things, her role as Clint Eastwood’s partner in The Enforcer, the third of the Dirty Harry features. She is probably best known for her TV work, but she is also a Tony-winner for her performance as Rose in the 1989 revival of Gypsy. My first opportunity seeing Ms. Daly onstage was two months ago in the fantastic off-Broadway production of Love, Loss and What I Wore at the West Side Theatre. (It is here that I admit that unfortunately, no we are not related).

Daly, sophisticated and real, charming and genuine, winsome and wizened, starts her evening with “The Hostess with the Mostes'” from Irving Berlin’s Call Me Madam, a song she first sang at Encores! in 1995 with new lyrics specially written for the occasion (even a nod to the Berlin estate for having a sense of humor). She apologizes in advance for a missed lyric, or a note sung off-key. She needn’t have worried – the actress is so at ease in cabaret that if you’d think she’d been doing this sort of gig all her life. And while her voice is not quite her strongest asset as a performer, she sounds better here than I have ever heard her before.

The theme of the evening becomes time, as Ms. Daly uses her song set to explore her (and our) conceptions and obsessions with time – how one moment it can be suspended, then suddenly speed up. She ruminated on how life is in warp speed, and the events and incidents that can impact our lives (which makes for a lovely parallel with the concept behind Love Loss and What I Wore). One moment she’s reliving her high school dream to be a cheerleader, the next she’s wondering when her grandson got to be thirteen years old (and have his heart broken by Hannah in the 7th grade) and ruminating on heartbreak, joy, love, sorrow, etc.

While sitting at my table in Feinstein’s it dawned on me halfway through the performance that I had forgotten that there was anyone else in the room. On more than one occasion I felt as though Tyne was singing to me and me alone, heightening the intimacy of an already intimate venue, whose 10th anniversary she was also celebrating (“Where else in NY can you hear two Rudy Vallee songs in a row?” she deadpans).

The selections are eclectic, ranging from the popular to obscure. She sings popular standards, a cheer-leading rally, a devastatingly simple tribute to her mother with the 13th century folk ballad “O Waly, Waly.” She recalled her dream of being a cheerleader with a real obscurity – “Betty Co-Ed,” which contains “one of the worst puns in history.” She was exceptionally memorable with Bessie Smith’s blues classic “Send Me to the ‘Lectric Chair, a song juxtaposed with “That’s Him Over There” co-written by Marilyn Bergman.

For her grandson, she offers “Sonny Boy” combined with a fabulous rendition of Bill Withers’ classic “Ain’t No Sunshine.” She also paid homage to the “second girls,” those musical theatre sidekicks that get the laughs but not the guy. Her “Adelaide’s Lament” was a comic highlight; it’s the first time I’ve ever seen Adelaide portrayed as a real girl who happens to be ditzy – and not the comic cartoon that we’re used to. She also combined “Ooh, My Feet!” from The Most Happy Fella and “I Can Cook Too” from On the Town in dedication to the wait staff.

An example of her seamless segues, she talked about all the French references to food in the latter song, and it brought about her revelation that she has an imaginary friend (or rather alter ego), who dreams of being a French chanteuse a la Piaf. Tyne delivered – in flawless French – a stunning, understated rendition of the Hoagy Carmichael standard “Stardust’ which culminated in a piano solo with shades of Debussy by pianist John McDaniel (The Rosie O’Donnell Show).

But just when you thought she couldn’t take it further, she espouses her alter-ego’s desire to revive Jerry Herman’s Dear World, a short-lived musical adaptation of The Madwoman of Chaillot. Ms. Daly brings her cabaret to a shattering climax with a medley of “Each Tomorrow Morning/And I Was Beautiful” and “I Don’t Want to Know,” creating a carefully constructed and delineated character to the proceedings. If there are any risk-taking producers with chutzpah or the folks from Encores! out there reading this, you do not want to pass up that opportunity. The evening was capped off with her encore (Tyne saved herself a trip to and from the kitchen) of Sonny West’s “Oh Boy.” Probably best known from Buddy Holly’s upbeat cover, Tyne’s was slower, introspective and devastating.

Kudos to musical director and occasional harmonist John McD, who guided the band and supported the star with considerable poise. The orchestra, as Tyne loving called them, consisted of Tom Hubbard on bass, Ray Marchica on percussion, Rick Heckman on woodwinds and Peter Sachon on cello. I couldn’t imagine a better group or better arrangements to accompany the star. Tyne Daly is every inch a star, and she radiates the confidence and grace that comes from being one. But she is also a reflection of maternal dignity and warmth. The combination is a knockout.

“The Second Time Around” is playing at Feinstein’s until January 30. Her show runs Tuesday through Thursday at 8:30PM and Friday and Saturday evenings at 8:00PM with a second how at 11:00PM. There is a $60 cover ($75 premium seating) and a $40 food/drink minimum. Also, Feinstein’s is introducing a new policy with select seats going for a $40 cover no food/drink minimum (subject to availability).

"Duet for One (The First Lady of the Land)" – 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue

1600 Pennsylvania Avenue opened May 4, 1976 on Broadway at the former Mark Hellinger Theatre following a tumultuous out of town period in both Philadelphia and Washington DC. The musical, starring Ken Howard, Patricia Routledge and Gilbert Price, was met with critical derision and subsequently closed four days later, after a total of 13 previews and 7 performances in NY.

The show was the first and only collaboration between Leonard Bernstein and Alan Jay Lerner. In spite of the tepid response by both audiences and critics, this particular song caught the audience’s attention in the middle of the second act. Patricia Routledge starred as First Ladies from 1800-1900; in this particular song she was both outgoing Julia Grant and incoming Lucy Hayes at the 1877 inauguration of Rutherford B. Hayes. The comic soprano delineated the two characters with the flip of a trick, double-sided wig and change in voice. The nine minute tour-de-force received thunderous applause, and even some lengthy mid-show standing ovations; an incredible feat considering the show’s reception.

This is from the Broadway opening night performance, at which the audience cheered for a full minute and eight seconds (the ovation has been trimmed on this particular recording). It’s remarkable to hear the audience, which up until this point had been mostly polite in its applause, come alive in this one song. There is a slow build to total euphoria which is almost as fascinating to hear as the actual performance.

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Opera en el Mercado

Much like that exuberant display of The Sound of Music in the Antwerp Station in Belgium last year, an opera company in Valencia went guerrilla theatre on an unsuspecting group at the largest covered market in Europe. This took place about two months ago and it took that long for it to come to my attention. Palau de les Arts Reina Sofia, a new opera center in Valencia, sent some of their singers out to promote their season. The opera singers were disguised as employees, and burst into song for the crowd. Fragments of Verdi’s La Traviata were sung culminating in that perennial favorite “Brindisi,” with the singers handing out glasses of champagne to and dancing with the amused bystanders. It’s not as polished as some of the other videos of this ilk, but it’s hard not to be charmed by the joy being shared by this group of strangers.

Truth be told, I’d actually look forward to food shopping if I had Renee Fleming selling me a canteloupe. Enjoy:

I’m with Coco


Lots of brouhaha over the late night talk shows this week (talk of a sequel to The Late Shift? yikes!) and I might as well declare myself Team Conan. I’ve been a fan since ’98, when my older brother introduced me to The Late Night 5th anniversary special. For years, I’ve found his humor smart, offbeat and strangely endearing. My brothers and I were excited to see him take on The Tonight Show, and looked forward to seeing the new direction the show would take with Conan’s sensibility over the next few years. One of those insufferable yet banal life choices was whether to watch Conan or Craig Ferguson, as I am a big fan of both. Having Conan on the Tonight Show made it easier – one right after the other. It’s also amazing to look at the executives who seem to be acting as if they’d never worked in television before. This has to be one of the biggest PR nightmares in recent TV memory. Now with Jay returning to his old timeslot and Conan leaving NBC (and Jimmy Kimmel pwning Leno like it was nobody’s business last evening) it will be interesting to see how this unending drama plays out.

Back in 2001, the producers of the Broadway revival of The Music Man were looking for a replacement for star Craig Bierko. While Will & Grace star Eric McCormack assumed the role for his summer hiatus, one of the original choices they approached was Conan O’Brien. The soon to be former Tonight Show host is a fan of the musical; he famously used it as an inspiration for the classic “Marge & the Monorail” episode of The Simpsons from back in that series’ early years. (It also featured a Harold Hill crowd-rouser type song called, simply, “Monorail!”). The talk show host was very much interested, but due to his TV commitments they just couldn’t work around the scheduling.

I hope Conan is back on TV – and soon. I also hope he moves back to NY, as I think this city is more his groove. For a trip down memory lane, here is his opening number from the 2006 Emmy telecast to the famed “Trouble” from that aforementioned Meredith Willson classic. Enjoy: