An Open Letter to the Drama Desk Awards

To Whom It May Concern,

Four years ago, a beautiful production of Rodgers and Hammerstein’s South Pacific opened at the Vivian Beaumont to acclaim and plaudits all around. One of Lincoln Center’s boasts was the full size orchestra in the pit.  The first of many thrilling moments came about one minute into the show’s overture. During a thrilling swell of the “Bali Ha’i” motif, the Beaumont stage retracted to display 30 musicians. I was fortunate enough to be at the opening night of this production, and witnessed for myself the cheers and tears (my own included) from an appreciative house. As the final notes played, the audience roared their overwhelming approval. While the melodies are the creation of Richard Rodgers, the man ultimately responsible for this stirring overture was the brilliant orchestrator Robert Russell Bennett.

It was brought to my attention earlier today by Drama Desk-winning orchestrator and arranger Stephen Oremus via Twitter that the Drama Desk committee has unceremoniously dropped the Best Orchestrations Award from this year’s honors. I can’t help but express my great displeasure at this decision. No official reason was given, and I can understand that, because there is no discernible excuse for this short-sighted and disrespectful snub.

I admire orchestrations. I admire orchestras. I love hearing how a melody is colored by instrumental arrangement, whether it be the romantic sweep of South Pacific or, say, the buoyant percussiveness of Irma La Douce or the big brassy “Broadway” sound of Mame. There is craft and artistry involved here. A composer doesn’t just hand a song to the conductor and the musicians can just magically play it. That might be the sort of thing that passes muster in ancient movie musicals, but the reality is that a song goes through a considerable gestation between the composer’s pen and the orchestra pit (with a nod to vocal and dance arrangers as well; other unsung heroes).

Orchestrators must understand the size, the scope, the intent and the economy involved in building a show from the ground up. Some composers know precisely how they want their show to sound, and may even be gifted in orchestrating themselves, and some may not know a quarter note from a hole in the ground. Orchestrator Hans Spialek likened the task to painting: “with the exception that in musical theatre one man (the composer) furnishes a sketch from which another man (the arranger) paints the musical picture the audience actually hears.” It is rare that a composer does his or her own orchestrations. Arranging a score for an orchestra is hard work, it is time-consuming and a composer generally must be free to revise and write new songs as a show develops.

While I have had varied reactions to the musicals of this season, I didn’t have any complaints with the orchestrators. I’ve heard work by the likes of John McDaniel, Larry Hochman, Doug Besterman, Michael Starobin, Martin Lowe, and Bill Elliott, among many others. We have seen show orchestras get smaller and smaller. More and more, it seems that musicians are hidden offstage or in another room (or building) entirely. Many of these orchestrators are forced to make less sound like more, itself a marvel of invention and craft. I can’t help but feel that this snub is just another step in the marginalization of live music in musical theatre.

Orchestrators are artists. They deserve the recognition and respect they have earned through their hard work. I do hope you reconsider this egregious decision.

Sincerely,

Kevin D. Daly
Theatre Aficionado at Large

PS: Every one of you would benefit from reading Steven Suskin’s essential The Sound of Broadway Music, a meticulously researched and informative book on musical theatre orchestration.

“The Sound of Music” – Carnegie Hall

Carnegie Hall presented the Rodgers and Hammerstein classic The Sound of Music on Tuesday evening as a gala fundraiser for the venue. In previous years, the Hall has presented similar concerts of Carousel and South Pacific. While this evening’s presentation of the score was not as memorable as those two previous outings (that Carousel wasn’t recorded is simply a crime – it was a dazzling success), it was a pleasure hearing those gorgeous songs performed live with the Orchestra of St. Luke’s.

Inspired by actual events, The Sound of Music was originally a stage vehicle for Mary Martin and later a blockbuster film starring Julie Andrews. It tells the story of a young postulant who becomes governess to seven children under the stern command of their Naval officer father. Throw in some feisty nuns and some evil Nazis and you’ve got the ingredients for a spectacular audience favorite.

The orchestrations in the program are credited solely to Robert Russell Bennett, but there were several pieces that sounded like Irwin Kostal’s arrangements for the film, including main title which was used as an overture for the evening (the stage show begins promptly with the haunting “Preludium”), “Do-Re-Mi” and the lower key version of “Climb Ev’ry Mountain.” I was pleasantly surprised to see the score presented in its original 1959 order. Maria and the Mother Abbess shared “My Favorite Things” in the Abbey, while Maria sang “The Lonely Goatherd” during the thunderstorm, etc. For the concert, “I Have Confidence” was added and “Something Good” replaced “An Ordinary Couple.”

Laura Osnes made for a sweet if somewhat bland Maria, singing well but without the spark that has made others so indelible in the role. Tony Goldwyn was a vocally weak and colorless Captain. Met Opera mezzo and fan favorite Stephanie Blythe gave the evening’s master class in singing, with a stirring rendition of “Climb Ev’ry Mountain.” Brooke Shields couldn’t quite handle the vocal demands of Elsa, but carried herself with grace and glamour, earning exit applause. (Fans of the film may be surprised how much more politicized and nicer the character is on stage). Patrick Page practically purred his way through Max’s lines. Veanne Cox, Cotter Smith and Reed Birney were on hand for smaller roles, while Daniel Truhitte, Nicholas Hammand, Kym Karath and Heather Menzies (of the film) made brief cameos. Special mention to the Women of the Mansfield University Concert Choir, who supplied breathtaking renditions of the liturgical music in the show.

Gary Griffin staged the concert (performed completely off-book), but while the evening was well-paced, the energy was inconsistent. David Ives provided the concert adaptation of Howard Lindsay and Russel Crouse’s original book, which didn’t make much of a case for a full-fledged revival. Joshua Bergasse provided the small amounts of choreography seen throughout the evening, most notably the “Laendler.” A misstep was using projections of Austrian pictures and site specific locales from the film against the back wall of the Stern Auditorium’s stage. These pictures, presented in a sort of widescreen panorama distracted from the performers. The cast wore concert attire that suggested at character; the only dirndls to be found were those audience devotees who dressed up.

“Nice Work If You Can Get It”

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Nice Work If You Can Get It isn’t particularly groundbreaking and it feels like the sort of show you’ve seen time and again (fans of My One and Only and Crazy for You will probably agree), but the new musical (a loose overhaul of the 1926 musical Oh, Kay! with a new plot and characters) for all its old-fashioned sensibilities, is much to my surprise, delightful. One of those fizzy champagne (or in this case, gin), check-your-brain-at-the-door comedies with gorgeous costumes, scenery and (most especially) songs.

The book (by Joe DiPietro) is chock full of 20s silliness. The plot is negligible; something about bootleggers hiding their stash at a ritzy 47 room Long Island mansion. Farcical complications ensue with lots of colorful characters along the way. Like those period shows, the scenes are a breezy set-up for one knock-out song after another. In this instance, they are the songs of George and Ira Gershwin (with one DeSylva lyric tossed in for good measure) and the evening becomes a daffy trip through the American songbook, with 20 or so of their tunes represented.

Matthew Broderick is playing the milquetoast millionaire playboy at the center of the story. The star has a certain stiffness and drollness that at first struck me as odd, but I soon warmed to the performance. Mr. Broderick has a meager singing voice which works well with the period, while his dancing leaves something to be desired. Surprisingly, I rather enjoyed him (and faithful readers will recall the last time I saw him on stage). Kelli O’Hara plays the gorgeous tomboy Billie, who gets to sing “Someone to Watch Over Me” (with a subversive twist) and “But Not for Me.” While the role has Sutton Foster written all over it, Ms. O’Hara is a gem. I particularly enjoyed her disastrous attempt at seduction “Treat Me Rough” and her masquerade as a Cockney maid (Which reminds me: Ms. O’Hara’s next Broadway outing should be My Fair Lady, not the Lincoln Center production of The King and I). I also enjoyed seeing her and Broderick recall 30s musicals with an extended dance all over the set in “S’Wonderful.”

Estelle Parsons makes an eleventh-hour appearance as Broderick’s deus ex machina Mother, in a brief but winning cameo. Jennifer Laura Thompson makes vapidity irresistible, particularly in her clever bubble bath production number “Delishious.” Michael McGrath scores big laughs as the bootlegger turned butler, while the always-reliable Stanley Wayne Mathis plays a genial police officer. Robyn Hurder and Chris Sullivan are on hand as a comic couple with a combined IQ of 45. While the twosome are funny, their duet of “Blah, Blah, Blah” is unnecessary. The scene-stealer of the night is Judy Kaye. The Tony-winning soprano plays the Duchess Estonia Dulworth, a temperance-pushing battle-axe who sets speakeasies on fire in the first act, and swings drunkenly from a chandelier in the second (in the evening’s funniest scene and biggest showstopper).

Derek McLane’s sets and Martin Pakledinaz’s costumes are the best kind of eye candy. Bill Elliot’s orchestrations are the best I’ve heard in quite some time  and are very much of the period and a joy to hear. If a cast album is recorded – and one should be – I hope they record the exit music. David Chase has supplied some glorious vocal arrangements. Kathleen Marshall directed and choreographed, her musical staging very much in vogue with the period (and not a tap shoe in sight). There are no big production numbers like Anything Goes or Crazy For You, but her best work is in the smaller, more intimate pieces.

While not as dazzling as the Encores! No, No, Nanette (still the best production of a 20s/30s musical comedy I’ve ever seen), there was enough crowd-pleasing charm and style in Nice Work If You Can Get It to keep me smiling from start to finish.

At Large Elsewhere: The “Leap of Faith” Unofficial Street Team Edition

April has been an incredibly busy month for me, but Patty and Emily asked if I would help them out with another video for their website and I dropped everything for the opportunity to work with them again. (I was a tourist on their Newsies walking tour about a month or so ago). This is the latest entry in their new series “Unofficial Street Team,” in which the girls become ebullient if somewhat overzealous champions for their favorite shows. In this latest entry, I play high-strung Jujamcyn executive Jacob Cohen who needs to correct some misinformation the girls are giving out about Leap of Faith.

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“Clybourne Park”

The Pulitzer and Olivier winning new play Clybourne Park now finds itself on Broadway for a sixteen week engagement at the Walter Kerr. Taking his cue from Lorraine Hansberry’s A Raisin in the Sun, playwright Bruce Norris explores racial attitudes in America before and after the Younger family inhabit the house on Clybourne Street.

The first act is set in 1959, and depicts the residents of the neighborhood trying to convince the departing couple from selling their home to a black family (the Youngers of Raisin in the Sun). The second act moves the action forward 50 years, with a tacky white liberal couple moving into the now predominantly black neighborhood. The structure reminded me of Norman Lear’s  classic All in the Family and its forgotten short-lived 90s follow-up 704 Hauser, a sitcom which found a liberal African-American couple living at Archie Bunker’s home.

The ensemble is quite strong, especially Christina Kirk, Annie Parisse, Jeremy Shamos, and Frank Wood. Pam McKinnon’s staging is exceptionally sharp, mining the nuance and humor for all she can. Special mention, too, to Daniel Ostling’s excellent set (which undergoes an exceptional transition during intermission).

Though entertaining and thoughtful, Norris’ play isn’t as devastatingly funny or cutting as it either wants to be or should be. There are some great moments and a series of intentionally shocking racist jokes in the second act, but I couldn’t help feel that the play fell short. Don’t get me wrong, issues regarding racism in a “post-racial” America must be addressed, but Clybourne Park feels more like an assignment for a dramatic writing class than a fully realized play.

“The Mikado” – Collegiate Chorale

The Collegiate Chorale offered a starry and exceptionally well-sung concert staging of The Mikado at Carnegie Hall on April 10 under the direction and baton of Ted Sperling. This marked my first time seeing the classic Gilbert and Sullivan operetta, though I am familiar with some of the more famous songs (and am a fan of Mike Leigh’s essential Topsy-Turvy, which details the fascinating gestation of the original production).

The Mikado is set in Japan, but in reality the characters and situations are a direct send up of mid 19th century England. The silliness of the show, its delightfully flippant point of view on death and execution and farce make for a pleasant evening. The concert staging doesn’t lend itself well to the comic nature of the libretto, so the opening was a bit slow. But after a bit, everything clicked and the audience was treated to an engaging comic romp.

Kelli O’Hara and Jason Danieley were in top form as Yum-Yum and Nanki-Poo. O’Hara held the audience rapt with her gorgeous rendition of “The Sun Whose Rays” Chuck Cooper was a well-sung Mikado, while Steve Rosen added some laughs as “Pish-Tush.” Jonathan Freeman was delightfully droll as Poo-Bah. Amy Justman and Lauren Worsham added stellar support, especially when they joined O’Hara for a spirited rendition of the famous “Three Little Girls.”

However, the evening belonged to Christoper Fitzgerald and Victoria Clark. As Koko and Katisha, they all but leveled the house with the climactic “There is Beauty in the Bellow of the Blast,” capping off an evening of mass hysteria from the two actors. Fitzgerald sang an updated version of the famed “A Little List, with references to tweeting, Kardashians and Newt Gingrich. This ruffled the feathers of a few purists who grumbled about it during intermission (and incidentally were also added to the list), but in spite of their misery, it was highly entertaining. He later scored major laughs with “Tit-Willow.” Clark entered like a harridan, with garish makeup, tussled hair held back from her eyes with chopsticks, and walked away with the show in her pocket. Her entrance was such a surprising contrast to the stately concert attire, she stopped the show before she even opened her mouth. Then she opened her mouth and proceeded to steal every single scene she was in.

The only unfortunate aspect of the night: that the Collegiate Chorale didn’t record this wonderful concert, with its illustrious chorus. It deserves to be heard again.

“Sweeney Todd” – West End

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There is a revival of Sweeney Todd currently playing London’s West End. If that news alone isn’t enough to get you on the first plane to England, let me explain further: there is a astounding revival of Stephen Sondheim & Hugh Wheeler’s epic Grand Guignol musical currently playing the Adelphi Theatre starring Michael Ball and Imelda Staunton.

Sweeney Todd is in my top three shows of all time; and I’m excited to see any production. And if I could, I would get on the next plane back to London to see this Jonathan Kent directed production again. Dark, unnerving and anchored by two strong central performances, this is a West End revival not to be missed, and a transfer to Broadway should be a no-brainer. The 1979 musical, considered by many (including yours truly), to be Sondheim’s masterpiece tells the story of a vengeful barber who transforms into a blood-thirsty killer, along with his enterprising accomplice and lover, Mrs. Lovett.

Ball is virtually unrecognizable as the deadly barber, both physically and vocally. In fact when he made his first appearance I wasn’t sure whether or not I was seeing an understudy. Admittedly, he wasn’t the draw for me to see the show and my expectations were low but I was more than surprised: Ball is astonishingly good. In the first scenes, we see the “bleeding nobody” brooding with rage, making his mental snap at the end of the first act quite chilling. His “Epiphany” was so intense that for the first time I wasn’t so sure if Mrs. Lovett was going to live to the end of the first act.

Peter Polycarpou plays the Beadle as a social climbing kiss-up rather than some bizarro creep. Peter Howe offers an unsettling portrait of warped piety and deviant sexuality as the Judge. James McConville is absolutely devastating as Toby. Gillian Kirkpatrick scores big as the Beggar Woman. Less effective are Lucy May Barker (think about the name) and Luke Brady as Johanna and Anthony, with lackluster renditions of “Green Finch and Linnet Bird” and “Johanna.”

However, for as good as Ball is in the title role, it is Imelda Staunton who makes this production a must-see. I knew we were in for something different when Staunton whipped out a dirty, empty glass bottle to use as a rolling pin in “The Worst Pies in London.” Her Lovett is unlike any other I’ve ever seen, more naturalistic and pragmatic. She didn’t play up the more comic aspects of the character, but still managed to be funny and find laughs in the most unexpected places. I know the show by heart, and Staunton kept surprising me right to the very end; a performance so indelible I can vividly replay it in my mind. Moments come to mind: her reaction to opening the trunk (which made a delighted audience applaud), the terror on her face during “Epiphany,” the chilling look on her face at the end of “Not While I’m Around,” and the master class of her final scene.

The dynamic between Staunton and Ball was extraordinary, with their scenes together the most memorable. Charged with sexual energy, their showstopping rendition of “A Little Priest” was less music hall romp than full out foreplay. This chemistry makes the finale all the more tragic. When the orchestra played the final chord, I sat there in awe for a good beat before bursting into euphoric applause.

Director Jonathan Kent has set this Sweeney in the 1930s. I’m not sure that the change in time period really adds anything to the piece, but it definitely doesn’t detract. The staging is much more traditional than John Doyle’s recent revival, but I knew as the opening “Ballad” was sung among the characters to each other as working class workplace gossip around London, that we were in for an stellar evening. His production is dark, stark and deliciously violent. Anthony Ward’s set is appropriate dark and eerie, and places the famed factory whistle right on stage. Ward’s costumes evoke the dirt and grime of a seedier side of Fleet Street, and serving the director’s vision quite well.

This production is billed as a strictly limited season, running six months through September 10th. It must be seen to be believed.

A cast album was recorded before performances start and was released in the theatre at or around opening night. Since it wasn’t available anyplace else, I made it a point before seeing the show to pick up a copy. It’s an impressive account of the production, specifically preserving many of Staunton’s finest moments – both spoken and sung. The recording sounds incredible, with some of the show’s sound effects audible (particular the furnace crackling in the final scene, and some truly hair-raising throat slittings). The major flaw is that for some reason the album is one disc. That’s unfortunate, but it doesn’t prevent the album from being a must-have.

Rebecca Caine: “No, No, Cosette!”

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What becomes of a light lyric soprano when her personality is, shall we say, a bit darker than that of her repertoire? This was the premise behind Rebecca Caine‘s new cleverly titled cabaret No, No, Cosette!, which played The Pheasantry in London. Caine, who famously created the role of Cosette in the original company of Les Miserables, is a noted singer who has had a hybrid career bouncing back and forth between opera and musical theatre. She is arguably most famous for her performances in Les Mis as well as The Phantom of the Opera, having played Christine Daae in both London and Toronto. However, these two roles are the tip of the iceberg when it comes to the soprano’s diverse career.

Ms. Caine started the evening on a literal high note with the tango “Jealousy,” her second note a D above top C. It set the standard for the evening – flawless technique and crystalline tone matched by a coy, subversive sense of humor. In her opening remarks, Caine commented on the disparity between the roles she’s played and who she really is before launching into spirited renditions of Harper and Zippel’s “The Ingenue” and “The Diva’s Lament” from Spamalot (hilariously tossing the line “I’ve no Tony awards!” at her close friend and former Les Mis co-star, Tony-winner Frances Ruffele, in the front row).

The repertoire was eclectic, from operetta to contemporary opera, musical theatre (both British and American) as well as specialties. Among the composers heard were Sondheim, Coward, Novello (someone I feel I need to know more about), Ricky Ian Gordon, Frank Loesser, Maury Yeston, Jerry Herman and Marc Blitzstein. (Ms. Caine also spoke of her admiration for Blitzstein’s Regina, and is perfect for the role of Birdie if anyone should have the forethought to produce this underrated opera).

Following a complex aria from Gordon’s My Life with Albertine, Caine treated the audience to “The Song is You,” one of my favorite Kern-Hammerstein songs (from Music in the Air). An effective pairing of “So in Love” from Kiss Me Kate with “Losing My Mind” from Follies was delivered to devastating effect. Similarly, she combined “I Saw Him Once,” Cosette’s cut number from Les Miserables with a ravishing “Somebody Somewhere” from The Most Happy Fella. Her rendition of Vernon Duke’s “Words Without Music” was utterly enchanting.

Ms. Caine was accompanied by Nathan Martin, who performed “I Hold Your Hand in Mine.” As a team they had great rapport, as he helped her on various numbers throughout the evening. The soprano’s cheekier side shown through with Blitzstein’s “Modest Maid,” Tom Lehrer’s “Masochism Tango,” and infamously, the Lapdancing Aria from Anna Nicole Smith: The Opera. She finished her set with Carlotta’s number “This Place is Mine” from Yeston’s Phantom, culminating in a thrilling high C finish.

The applause was deafening, drawing Ms. Caine and Mr. Martin for an encore, Coward’s “If Love Were All.” If anything, the applause was even more thunderous than before, bringing the duo back out on stage. For a second encore, Caine joked that her husband told her to “sing something they all know,” before the pianist started playing the vamp to “Think of Me,” Christine’s first song from The Phantom of the Opera. I admit, I have very little time for POTO, but will sit up and take notice when Ms. Caine is singing the score. If anything, Ms. Caine’s mellifluous soprano is sounding better than ever, and it was a pleasure to hear such stellar singing.

“Matilda” – West End

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Ladies and gentlemen, Matilda the Musical is a hit. A big, beautiful smash hit. The sort of intelligent, literate musical comedy that makes you want to throw your hat in the air and cheer. This is the kind of show that comes around once in a generation, and will likely run into the next one. Simultaneously touching and subversive, Roald Dahl’s story of an unloved prodigy who learns to stand up to the bullies in her life has become a beautifully realized stage property. Matilda is, to quote from its opening number, a miracle.

A child of exceptional mental faculties, Matilda has taught herself to read and has an unlimited capacity for mathematics.  Her weekly reading list could fill a college syllabus, and her imagination is limitless. But her garish, vacuous parents think she’s a freak, and her head mistress, Agatha Trunchbull, would rather Matilda went to prison for life without parole. The young child must use the extraordinary gifts of her mind to fight the bullying adults, and in that conflict librettist Dennis Kelly and composer-lyricist Tim Minchin crafted a deliriously tuneful and clever musical with astonishing élan, though I do think there should be a musical button to end the first act. (For my thoughts on the score, here’s my post on the original cast album).

Matilda is far more sophisticated than those other musical theatre children who have come before her (Oliver and Annie come readily to mind), and much to my relief – and key to the show’s triumph – is that the role is written and directed to be played like a normal child, minus all trappings of the affected, cloying child actor. The charming, takes-no-guff Sophia Kiely played the role the night I attended. (Ms. Kiely rotates with three other actresses). The role is exceptionally large, with huge monologues, musical soliloquies and exhausting choreography. Ms. Kiely was utterly superb; I was in her corner from the moment she critiqued Romeo and Juliet for having a “touch of stupidity” in her establishing song “Naughty.”

Bertie Carvel is astonishing as Miss Trunchbull. Playing the enormous bully in panto tradition, Carvel finds so many surprising shades: we see not only her villainy but the insecurities, the craving for attention and her femininity. Almost every line and gesture is laugh inducing, with a distinctive speaking voice that only adds to the overwhelming impact of his performance. His second act number “The Smell of Rebellion,” is a physically grueling showstopper, built around a rigorous exercise regimen complete with a trampoline vault. Carvel executes the number without missing a single breath. It’s a marvel, and I hope Mr. Carvel will be brought over to delight Broadway audiences next year.

As for the rest of the adults, Paul Kaye is Matilda’s father, a dimwitted mean-spirit who espouses the pros of “Telly” during interval. Josie Walker decked out in a garish wig and pink fishnets plays Matilda’s narcissistic, dance-happy mother (and is joined by Gary Watson’s deliriously sleazy Rudolpho for a tribute to vapidity, “Loud”). Lauren Ward is warm and endearing as Miss Honey, the meek teacher who, thanks to Matilda, develops a spine and learns to stand up to the oppressive Trunchbull. Peter Howe was hilarious as Matilda’s dimwitted older brother, punctuating scenes with his inane comatose utterances. Melanie La Barrie adds humanity and humor as Mrs. Phelps, the kind librarian who encourages Matilda’s love of reading and story-telling.

Peter Darling’s choreography is inventive and engaging, from the cleverness of “School Song” to the swings of the irrepressibly nostalgic “When I Grow Up” to the Spring Awakening send-up of “Revolting Children.” Matthew Warchus, who was responsible for my beloved revival of The Norman Conquests several years back, is in peak form with a staging that will rank among his best work. Rob Howell’s set, made up of wooden blocks and offbeat, oversize scrabble tiles that spill into the house is a visual delight, a perfect arena for his off-the-wall costumes.

I was so taken with the musical, I bought a ticket for the Saturday night performance. The second viewing allowed me a closer look at the nuances in the staging and choreography, as well as the details of the set. It also gave me a chance to see an entirely different cast of children, with a witty and wise Eleanor Worthington-Cox as the title character. Comparisons would futile, as both young ladies were equally effective in their distinctive interpretations. Also, Paul Kaye was out and I saw understudy Peter Howe offer his own unique, effective portrayal of Mr. Wormwood. I’m quite impressed how the production celebrates performers’ individuality. No matter which cast you see, the show will be in excellent form.