Tag: Retrospective

One of my favorite musicals of all time is On the Twentieth Century with book and lyrics by the legendary team of Betty Comden and Adolph Green (On the Town, Singing in the Rain, The Will Rogers Follies).  Cy Coleman (Sweet Charity, City of Angels) composed the lush operetta-like score.  The original 1978 production won five Tony Awards, including for lead actor (John Cullum) and featured actor (Kevin Kline).  The show also won for its book, score and art deco set design by Robin Wagner which director Hal Prince described as his favorite of all the musicals he staged.  Set in the 1920’s aboard a luxury train, the show was based on a play and film of the same name.  The musical is perhaps best classified as a screwball romantic comedy farce.

For this entry into the Retrospective Series, I viewed two tapings at the New York Public Library’s Theater on Film and Tape archive.  The first was fifteen minutes of excerpts from the post-Broadway 1979 road tour in Chicago with Rock Hudson replacing John Cullum (Shenandoah, On a Clear Day You Can See Forever) and many from the Broadway cast including Judy Kaye (a later Tony winner for Phantom of the Opera) and Imogene Coca.  Mr. Hudson was a passable singer but seemed to be a fun stage presence.  The second taping was on May 27, 2015 during the first Broadway revival with Kristen Chenoweth (Wicked, You’re A Good Man Charlie Brown).  This version confirmed my earlier memories that the show in its entirety is one of the musical comedy greats.

Madeleine Kahn (The Sisters Rosensweig) opened the show during the original run but quickly began missing performances and Judy Kaye took over the part in a real-life understudy gets to be a star story.  On the cast album, Ms. Kahn is her typically hilarious self –  with a beautiful voice – and her version of Lily Garland comes across brilliantly as almost self-parody.  Kristen Chenoweth seemed more aggressively driven as Lily with every minute on stage venturing between musical comedy perfection and gorgeously sung introspection.  It was a bravura performance on every level.

“New York in sixteen hours, anything can happen in those sixteen hours” proclaims the title song of On The Twentieth Century.  With a John Barrymore flair, stage director Oscar Jaffe (Cullum, Hudson and a scintillating Peter Gallagher in the revival) has just closed another failed theatrical production out of town in Chicago.  He hears that his former discovery, ex-lover and now Hollywood star Lily Garland will be on the train.  With his minions, he plots to get her to sign a contract to revive his career.  As can be expected there are a slew of quirky characters adding to the larger than life leads singing bombastic and witty songs.

Jokes are everywhere in this score.  Oscar’s opening number “I Rise Again” in which he announces he’s “full size again” gets the plot machinations in motion.  Recollecting his discovery of Mildred Plotka sets the stage for her first triumph as renamed star Lily Garland in the character of Veronique whose spurning of Otto von Bismarck’s sexual advances precipitate the Franco-Prussian War. In this number, Comden and Green’s lyrics equally combine literary and lowbrow humor.  “She close the door, she start the war, she won’t say yes, won’t lift her dress.”  All of this is done in Mr. Coleman’s operatic throwback style.  In the revival, Ms. Chenoweth equally combines her natural go-for-the-jugular humor along with her spectacularly big and rich vocals.

Lily has a boy toy with her on the train.  With his “brutal thighs” the character of Bruce Granit won a Tony Award for Mr. Kline in the original and a nomination for Andy Karl in the revival.  In both versions, they stopped the show with narcissism and precision physical comedy.  As the religiously inclined Letitia Primrose, the legendary Imogene Coca had a role of a lifetime with the comedic masterpiece “Repent.”  She knows “there’s dirty doings going on.”  Act II’s “She’s A Nut” was complete with a series of onstage moving trains.  The original even had a full size engine barreling straight toward the audience.  The revival was not nearly as grandiose but still very good.

The train motif and clickety-clack score keep the proceedings rolling along until the very end.  The overture, best represented on the original cast recording, is probably my all-time favorite.  The two disc recording of the revival, however, is much longer with much more detail, providing a great opportunity to experience the show, its witticisms and gorgeous score.

One of the many peaks of this musical is Act II’s “Babette.”  Lily is deciding between two roles, Mary Magdalene and Babette.  Mary sings “our sins shall be forgiven” while Babette laments that “the gin is never strong enough.”  Back and forth between the two diametrically opposed characters results in “my cigarette is…. saved.”  Babette loves her “loving, boozing, dancing, cruising.”  There is all of that and more in On the Twentieth Century, an exquisitely constructed, gleamingly elegant exercise in Broadway musical comedy genius.

 

Long before Hamilton transferred from the Public Theater to a triumphant Broadway run, there was A Chorus Line.  Also developed at the Public Theater, Michael Bennett was given space for a year to work on his celebration of Broadway dancers.  This musical went on to break the record as the longest running show in Broadway history.  I saw A Chorus Line three times during that original run.  For this entry in my Retrospective Series, I viewed two tapings preserved in the New York Public Library’s Theatre on Film and Tape Collection:  the off-Broadway Public Theater taping on July 12, 1975 and the then record-breaking 3389th Broadway performance on September 29, 1983.

Writing this blog has been illuminating as a chronicle of my personal experiences, an opportunity to communicate with theater companies and as a chance to voice an opinion which hopefully adds to the theatrical discourse.  Before the internet, certainly in the time of A Chorus Line, the print and television critics had much more influence than they perhaps do today.  I decided to first examine what was said about this classic, possibly perfect musical.

On May 22, 1975 in the New York Times, Clive Barnes started his review of the Off-Broadway production by stating, “The conservative word for A Chorus Line might be tremendous, or perhaps terrific.”  An excellent review except for the score:  “Mr. Hamlisch is not such a good composer as he was in the movie The Sting when he was being helped out by Scott Joplin, but he can pass.”  By the time the show opened on Broadway in October, Mr. Barnes had a change of heart:  “The music by Marvin Hamlisch (which I have now got to know from the recording) is far more vital to the proceedings that I first thought, and far better.  It could easily become a classic.”

After having viewed these two tapings, the score is definitely a classic.  A band of dancers at an audition to see who gets hired.  The critics at the time were mixed on the “quasi-group therapy” of James Kirkwood and Nicholas Dante’s book.  I found the show’s storyline to be a rich mining of the dancer’s soul.  What drives their passion to excel?  Why commit to this hard life of rejections?

Sheila’s nearing the end of her career and says, “I’m going to be thirty real soon and I’m real glad,” dripping with sarcasm.  What motivated her?  In the exceptional “At the Ballet” she tells us “I wanted to be a prima ballerina.”  In the same song, Bebe confronts her appearance, “different is nice but it sure isn’t pretty.”  Maggie deals with her parent’s divorce:  “raise your arms and someone’s always there.”  There’s an abundance of humor in this show (“locked in the bathroom with Peyton Place” and “to commit suicide in Buffalo is redundant”).  But the serious moments and vocalized introspection from these dancers takes an audition and turns the proceedings into a celebration of tenacity and talent.

In the mid-1970’s, Broadway was starting to slump.  The character Paul has a heart wrenching monologue about how he transformed from a homosexual kid dismissed from a Catholic school to eventually becoming a legit dancer.  He pointedly notes, “I don’t wanna hear about how Broadway’s dying, ’cause I just got here.”  A Chorus Line was a major shot in the arm prior to the impending AIDS crisis and its devastating impact on the theater over the next two decades.  A Chorus Line was Hamilton big.  West Side Story big.  Oklahoma! big.

When the show celebrated its 3,389th performance, many companies were invited to perform on stage at the Schubert.  The show opened with the original cast and the following companies appeared throughout the evening:  the International, National, Bus and Truck, Las Vegas, Chicago and members of various foreign companies.  Near the end of the show, Zach asks the dancers, “what do you do when you can’t dance anymore?”  Here the responses were ingeniously presented in different languages, further binding the dancing community together as a kindred soul of people regardless of national origin.

Arguably the single greatest moment of this taping, however, was Diana’s superlative song, “Nothing.”  “Ev’ry day for a week we would try to hear the wind rush…”  If you can read that sentence without singing it, then you are overdue to see this musical.  This song was performed by the actress from the Japanese company entirely in her native language.  Since everyone in the audience presumably knew all the words, the effect was beyond entertaining.  It was both thrillingly hilarious and a testament to the universality of this “singular sensation.”

Michael Bennett was the genius who conceived, directed and choreographed A Chorus Line.  The sheer fluidity of the show is remarkable, never so much as when the dancers step up to the line in their famous poses.  The white line painted on the stage is the touchstone for these “Broadway gypsies.”  They repeatedly return to the line before spinning out with extraordinary dancing coupled with the heart, sweat and tears of passionate artists living their dream.

In the finale, the lyrics for “One” include the awesome, nervy lyric:  “loaded with charisma is my jauntily, sauntering, ambling shambler.”  In the mining industry, a shamble is one of a succession of niches above one another that ore travels from platform to platform, thereby raising it to a higher level.  In the land of musical theater, A Chorus Line rises to such starry heights as to be a shamble extraordinaire.

theaterreviewsfrommyseat/retrospectiveseries/annie

In April 1978, I saw the Tony winning Best Musical Annie which had opened the previous year.  Every principal in the original cast was still in the show except for Andrea McArdle who played the title character and had the audacity to grow up and out of the role.  For this entry in my Retrospective Series, I viewed the video recording at the New York Public Library’s Theatre on Film and Tape Collection.  This particular taping of the final Broadway cast was captured two weeks before the original run had closed.  As a middle schooler, I had a fond remembrance of the show and score, especially Act I.  In 2002, I saw Annie again at the Paper Mill Playhouse in New Jersey.  At that time, I felt I may have outgrown the material.

Annie was a musical developed from the comic strip character Little Orphan Annie which ran from 1922 until, remarkably, 2010.  Living in an orphanage, she is routinely abused by cold, sadistic matrons named Miss Asthma and Miss Treat.  She meets Daddy Warbucks who takes a liking to her but she finds herself cast off (by Mrs. Warbucks) and has adventures.  Early stories had Annie conquering political corruption, criminal gangs and corrupt institutions, a thematic bullseye in 1920’s America.  By the time the Great Depression hit, the formula changed.  Daddy Warbucks lost his fortune and died in despair at the election of Franklin D. Roosevelt.  Annie’s 1930’s adventures became more international in flavor given Europe’s struggles and the approaching World War.  In 1945, Daddy Warbucks was reunited with Annie.  Apparently he did not die but was in a coma all those years!

Thomas Meehan wrote the book for this musical which used elements of the comic strip but had its own story.  Beginning the creative process, he chose the mood of the Great Depression which he felt was contemporarily reflective of the then current era of Nixon and Vietnam.  In this show, Oliver Warbucks and FDR are, despite rival political affiliations, close friends.  When FDR is invited to dinner, Warbucks instructs the staff to “call Al Smith and find out what Democrats eat.”  The political jokes are musical comedy light and funny.  When Annie runs away, she is befriended by homeless citizens from a Hooverville tent city.  In “We’d Like to Thank You, Herbert Hoover” they sing about the President’s famous chicken in every pot plan with the lyric:  “not only don’t we have the chicken, we ain’t got the pot!”

Harve Presnell was the final Daddy Warbucks and his performance was impressive.  One of the clear high points from this taping is the chemistry between him and Annie (Alison Kirk) in the Act II numbers, “Something Was Missing” and “I Don’t Need Anything But You.”  That’s the good news.  The show normally shines brightest with the orphans and Miss Hannigan.  June Havoc did not have the maniacal edge that won Dorothy Loudon a Tony Award.

When Annie is not hitting on all cylinders, this bright and shiny upbeat cartoon can seem flat and two-dimensional.  “Easy Street” is one of the show’s great numbers moving the plot along and firmly establishing the harmlessly evil motives of Miss Hannigan, her brother Rooster and his ditzy dame, Lily St. Regis.  With Ms. Havoc’s version of Miss Hannigan, she’s simpler and sweeter.  You laugh and feel sorry for her but the saccharin content in a show full of “Little Girls” needs a healthy dose of a playfully dark edge.  Since that doesn’t happen here, this version lagged in what is normally the far stronger first Act.

The show’s famous anthem “Tomorrow” solidifies Annie’s score by Charles Strouse and Martin Charnin as a memorably excellent one.  There are duds, however, notably “A New Deal for Christmas.”  For Annie to be one considered of the greats though, it seems to require a superlative cast.  Sweet has to be balanced with sour.  For a good look at the original cast, I’ve attached the You Tube link to the Annie cast’s Tony Awards performance.  The clip is over ten minutes long and excels in presenting the case for Annie.  From my seat, I’m placing Annie firmly in the very good musical category.  Apparently for theatrical greatness, “It’s A Hard Knock Life.”

youtube/annie1977tonyawards

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theaterreviewsfrommyseat/retrospectiveseries/annie

Set in Virginia during the Civil War, Shenandoah was a musical based on a 1965 Jimmy Stewart movie.  Opening in 1975, the show played for 1,050 performances on Broadway.  While it lost the Tony for Best Musical to The Wiz, John Cullum won for Best Actor and it also won Best Book.  For this Retrospective Series, I was able to view a 1994 production at the Goodspeed Opera House (East Haddam, CT) which has been preserved in the New York Public Library’s Theater on Film and Tape.  Having just recently revisited The Wiz, I believe Shenandoah is the better musical.

“Raise the Flag of Dixie” opens this show with Confederate and Union soldiers setting the action.  We quickly go to the Anderson’s 500 acre family farm.  Charlie Anderson is a widower with many sons and a couple of daughters.  As to why the family is ignoring the war despite its proximity, Charlie sings “I’ve Heard It All Before” noting “they always got a holy cause that’s worth dying for.”  In the local church, the preacher condemns the northern barbarians and clearly states that the congregation’s duty is to God, to our neighbors and to the state of Virginia and our way of life.

Shenandoah’s plot then takes off with the family visited by some Confederate soldiers attempting to recruit Charlie’s sons into the war.  An excellent scene is punctuated by “Next to Lovin’ (I Like Fightin’),” as the sons sing “next to smelling me a rose, I like thumpin’ on some toes.”  Famous horseplay choreography follows with a recognizable nod to Seven Brides for Seven Brothers.  As this story unfolds, the Anderson’s are drawn into the conflict which surrounds them and threatens their family and farm.

There are two meditations in this show, one in each Act.  Charlie talks to his dead wife Martha.  “Virginia’s gone crazy, ma.  Everybody’s screaming state’s rights, war.”  In the song “Meditation” we hear that “this farm don’t belong to Virginia…. my sons bleed, but not for the South.”  While Shenandoah is definitely a period piece, its messages still have relevance today: “there’s always one trouble with the truth, once you see it you’re stuck with it.  And it’s always in the middle, right between two angry ideas.”  Given our current political climate, it would seem that now is exactly the right time to revive this show.

Shenandoah is a well-written story.  There are romances, newborns and friendships.  The strength of the book is this juxtaposition of family, values and a war which does and does not concern them.  The youngest son Robert has a black best friend Gabriel who gets to sing the show’s most famous number  “Freedom” with Robert’s sister at the start of Act II.  Things get darker while Charlie tries to convince his grown children that “Papa’s Gonna Make It Alright.”  In the final meditation, Charlie summarizes “it’s like all wars, the undertaker is the winner.”

The critics were a bit mixed in their reviews of Shenandoah ranging from dumb story to very likable to first-rate.  This Goodspeed production makes a strong case for this show.  The family relationships, in particular the nearly grown adult children, come across organically.  That is obviously a credit to the actors and director.  Because of that, the story picks up emotional depth and dimensions on the path to its climatic ending.

As a musical, I’d say The Wiz has far better tunes than the country and western tinged score of Shenandoah.  As an evening’s entertainment, I’d say that Shenandoah is the stronger piece overall.  This story about civil rights, family values, states’ right and war remains relevant.  A show primed and ready for a new generation of theatergoers to experience.

theaterreviewsfrommyseat/retrospectiveseries/thewiz

The retrospective series is my attempt to revisit shows that I have seen in the past.  Many of these have been video recorded and are part of the research archives in the New York Public Library.  In this initial entry, I begin with the first Broadway show I attended in middle school, The Wiz.

I have a very strong memory of The Wiz, the all black update of The Wizard of Oz.  This show won seven Tony Awards including Best Musical.  I was sitting in the last row of the balcony in July of 1975 (Playbill verified, with Ben Harney understudying Tiger Haynes’ Tony Award winning Lion).  I remember a vibrant technicolor set and a pile of entertaining songs including the breakout hit “Ease on Down the Road.”  The show ran about three years and had two brief revivals.  This videotaping occurred in April of 1993, the last Broadway outing, with both Stephanie Mills and Andre De Shields reprising their roles as Dorothy and the Wiz.  Even if Ms. Mills was in her thirties by this point, her Dorothy was a lot less naïve and edgier than the Judy Garland version.  Plus, this actress is tiny framed and was in great voice so it all seemed to work for me.

How does the Wiz look today?  First, this production ran less than a month and appeared to be a dressed down version similar to a road tour staging.  The tornado dance remains an ingenious piece of choreography.  A dancer encircles the stage with an enormously long piece of black cloth emerging from her headdress.  She creates a stage sized twister through dance and when it’s all done, Dorothy and her house have landed in Munchkinland.

Obviously, L. Frank Baum’s original story is well known.  The Wiz urbanized the characters and their dialogue, quite of bit of which is now dated.  Attapearl is the self-proclaimed feel good girl, also known as the Good Witch of the North.  How does she know that Dorothy has killed the Wicked Witch of the East?  “I’d know those tacky panty hose anywhere.”

We meet the Scarecrow first who wants brains “so I can be President and ride on Air Force One and get my picture on a food stamp.”  The lines are that big.  At least the Air Force One prediction happened fifteen years after this performance.  Our Tin Man describes how he lost all his limbs chopping trees to be asked, “Did it never occur to you to get a new axe?”  In “Mean Old Lion,” we meet our coward who is “in therapy with a high priced owl three times a week.”

Up until this point, strong character songs move this piece swiftly as the men playing the Yellow Brick Road dance them from place to place.  The highlight of Act One is the duet between Dorothy and the Lion where she encourages him to “Be A Lion.”  The song is a big, belty Broadway masterpiece.

When we get to the Emerald City, Andre De Shields gets to strut his stuff in an amazing white cape lined in sparkly green while wearing a white, bell-bottomed pant suit.  His big entrance song is “So You Wanted to Meet the Wizard.”  Ever observant, he tells Dorothy, “I can understand a girl like you wanting to go to Brazil, Mozambique, Harlem, but Kansas?”  This section is a great book scene.  It’s very funny and possibly better than the movie.  Why does the Wiz think Dorothy is up for her assigned task?  “You’re the best wicked witch killer in this country!”

The last song of Act One is the Tin Man’s beautifully introspective “What Would I Do If I Could Feel.”  Act Two opens with the monstrous Evillene bellowing to her subjects, “Don’t Nobody Bring Me No Bad News.”  Her disturbing punishment for offenders:  “hang that sucker.”  Dorothy gets hold of a water bucket resulting in “don’t tell me I’ve done it again!”  The citizens rejoice with “Can You Feel A Brand New Day,” here a song with pedestrian choreography, a Rockettes kick line and much better in memory.

When our friends return to the Emerald City, they hear the Wiz has moved:  “it has something to do with urban renewal.”  Throwaway songs like “Who Do You Think You Are?” continue to slow down a second Act which can in no way compete with the tighter first half.  And then we get to the Wiz’s sermon which is way too long.  Essentially we learn “you don’t only have to know where you’re going, you also have to know where you’re coming from.”

I recently read Isabel Wilkerson’s phenomenal book, “The Warmth of Other Suns:  The Epic Story of America’s Great Migration” which covered the period from 1915 up to when this show was originally written.  She documented the travels for many who escaped from the Jim Crow South but then encouraged their children to visit their heritage.  The Wiz nicely touched on this theme.

As a side note, in its original review, The Wall Street Journal noted that the book was undistinguished and suggested that The Wiz was “performed by blacks for blacks.”  I’ll let that quote speak for itself.

In a show filled with enjoyable ballads such as “The Feeling We Once Had” and “If You Believe,” Dorothy manages to get the greatest one for her 11:00 number.  I vividly remember seeing “Home” from the back row of the enormous Majestic Theater.  I remember the audience sort of disappearing from view and the performance grabbing me directly in a tunnel-like manner.  It was, and remains, a magical moment that solidified early on my love of live theater.  I don’t get the same level of intensity from the best in movies or television.  Perhaps it’s the immediacy of the moment.  Perhaps I’m old-fashioned.  Or perhaps it’s just a more intensely personal experience.

In retrospect, The Wiz is a bit of a period piece now.  The songs, however, are strong enough to encourage a book update and heed these lyrics from Home:  “Time be my friend.  Let me start again…”