February 10, 2016

"Fiddler on the Roof" is a Bit Off-Key for Me

Some roles become so identified with one actor that others shy away from doing them. Here I'm thinking of Fanny Brice in Funny Girl (although the British actress Sheridan Smith recently dared to step into Barbra Streisand's shoes and I'd love to see Lady Gaga give them a try). But other roles have been marked so indelibly that succeeding actors can't resist imitating the original. In that category stands Tevye the dairyman in Fiddler on the Roof. 

Lots of actors—Herschel Bernardi, Topol, Theodore Bikel, Alfred Molina, Harvey Fierstein—have played the poor milkman since Zero Mostel originated the role in 1964 and each has raised his hands aloft, wiggled his shoulders and shaken his hips just as Mostel did when he performed the iconic "If I Were A Rich Man (click here to read more about some of their experiences)."  

Danny Burstein does them too in the revival of Fiddler that is currently playing at The Broadway Theatre. But although Burstein has a fine voice, he's also a very fine actor and he brings lots of other things to the role as well. 

Burstein is smaller than most of the men who have played Tevye but that makes an unexpectedly good fit for the character. For circumstances are constantly threatening to overwhelm Tevye, a God-fearing Jew living in a turn-of-the-last century Russia filled with volatile anti-Semites and a tradition-proud man who is father to five rebellious daughters. 

Without sacrificing the humor that the Yiddish writer Sholem Aleichem built into the stories on which the show is based, Burstein layers his performance with the disappointment, anger and resignation Tevye experiences as he confronts a changing world (click here to read more about the actor). 

The result is precisely the kind of darker interpretation that director Bart Sher likes to excavate when he revives classic musicals as he's done with South Pacific and The King and I. But in this case some of it works (Burstein's performance) and some of it doesn't. 

Sher frames Joseph Stein's classic book with a silent modern-day prologue and coda that link Tevye's eventual exile from his beloved village of Anatevka to current refugee crises around the world, which struck me as unnecessary and even Sheldon Harnick, the sole survivor of the original creative team, has expressed some doubts about it (click here to read more about his thoughts).

The milkman's daughters have also been made more feminist. As the matchmaker approaches their home with a proposal for the eldest sister Tzeitel, the girl and her sisters turn the song "Matchmaker, Matchmaker" from the usual playful fantasy about the kind of man each hopes to marry into a plaintive lament about how poor girls like them have so little choice in the matter. 

I might have been more accepting if the singing had been better. Jerry Bock and Sheldon Harnick's score is chocked full of some of the most beautiful and beloved show tunes in the Broadway songbook (click here to read more about the public's longstanding love affair with the show) but, with the exception of Burstein's numbers, they simply aren't performed well this time out.

To be fair, the actresses playing two of the sisters were out the night my husband K and I saw the show but that doesn't explain the weak showing of some of the others. 

Jessica Hecht is pitch perfect as Tevye's no-nonsense wife Golde, except when it comes to her singing. Whenever she can, this otherwise feisty Golde softens her voice, as though seeking refuge behind that of her singing partner. 

Meanwhile, the exuberance of "Miracle of Miracles," the song the village tailor Motel sings when he summons up the nerve to claim the woman he loves is undercut by another tentative performance.

I wasn't crazy about the dancing either. Jerome Robbins made the dances he created for the original production as expressive of the characters' emotions as the songs Bock and Harnick wrote for them. Previous revivals have reproduced the Robbins routines but Sher recruited the Israeli choreographer Hofesh Schechter to come up with new ones (click here to read more about him).

Schechter's work is looser-limbed than Robbins and, for all I know, may even be more authentic, but it's not as clever—or as emotional. Or maybe, like those other Tevyes, I'm just too stuck on the old way of doing things.

February 6, 2016

Turning on the Ghost Light

Health problems (nothing dire but serious enough to have screwed with my schedule) are keeping me from posting today. So as I usually do when I can't write here, I'm putting up the ghost light that theaters turn on when they're temporarily dark. And also just like them, I'm hoping that you'll return when I'm back in action.

February 3, 2016

"Tappin Thru Life" is Light On Its Feet

Maurice Hines and his younger brother Gregory were barely out of diapers when they started in show business. Known as The Hines Kids (and later as Hines, Hines and Dad when their drummer father joined the act) they were passable singers, terrific dancers and irresistibly entertaining. And that pretty much describes what you'll find in Tappin Thru Life, the genial show that Hines, now 72, has been touring around the country over the last couple of years and recently opened at off-Broadway's New World Stages.

The show is basically a cabaret act disguised as a musical memoir. Hines, a charming raconteur, recalls how he and his brother started dancing, were mentored by the Nicholas Brothers and other tap masters, worked their way up the marquee and onto Johnny Carson's show (appearing 37 times) and eventually into the clubs on the Las Vegas strip, where they were the opening act for such legendary entertainers as Judy Garland and Sammy Davis Jr.

As he recounts his tale, Hines sings some standards, performs a few dance numbers and ties it altogether with amusing anecdotes about the old days. He and director Jeff Calhoun have also had the very good sense to illustrate the reminiscences with projected photos of the brothers from their adorable baby pictures straight through to a video clip of the last time they dance together in the 1984 movie "The Cotton Club,"  (click here to see the number).

The act had broken up in the '70s and the brothers didn't speak for nearly a decade. They had long since reconciled by the time Gregory, who established a celebrated solo career in movies ("White Nights" with Mikhail Baryshnikov) and on Broadway (Sophisticated Ladies, Jelly's Last Jam) died from liver cancer in 2003 but Hines stages a nightly reunion with his baby brother when he recreates one of their old routines, which always ended with a handshake. His empty outstretched hand is meant to tug at the heart and it does.

Hines has more corporeal help too. There's a revolving cast of his tap dancing protégés to carry on the hoofing legacy. First among equals are the Manzari Brothers, whom Hines discovered six years ago when they were still in high school and who have since worked with everyone from gospel singer BeBe Winans to American songbook singer Michael Feinstein. Like the Hines before them, the Manzaris are very cute and very fast on their feet (click here to read more about them).

They're all backed up by the all-female Diva Jazz Orchestra, nine women who really know how to swing. This is the rare show where the audience doesn't rush out after the curtain call but hangs around to listen to the band jam on the exit music.

My husband K, a former pit musician, who (full disclosure) is friends with several Diva band members, has seen the show twice. Each time he struck up a conversation with a woman in the audience who talked about growing up as a fan of the Hines brothers.

For them—and for me—this 90-minute revue is a link to those days when performers considered it a priority to give the audience a good time, which Hines, dapperly dressed by T. Tyler Stumpf and still able to pull off a fast bombershay, definitely does.

Still, this isn't a show for everyone. People looking for an edgy evening or some sense of where musical theater is headed should look elsewhere. But others will, like me, enjoy this trip back to the past. There's a thin line between "dated" and "classic" and through the force of his personality and the finesse of his artistry, Maurice Hines lands Tappin Thru Life on the right side.

January 30, 2016

Why "I and You" Isn't For Me

Just a couple of days ago I was yapping on in another post about how "as long as a show is well made, it's OK with me even it if isn't what I think of as 'my kind of show.'" So I suppose I've got to give some props to Lauren Gunderson's I and You, the two-hander that opened at the 59e59 Theaters this week. For even though the show practically put me to sleep, it so earnestly accomplishes what it sets out to do that it has already had 20 productions around the country and won the American Theater Critics Association award for the best play of 2014.

Here's the setup: a teenage girl has a life-threatening liver disease that keeps her at home and a classmate unexpectedly shows up in her room to enlist her help with a homework assignment in which they have to analyze the use of pronouns in Walt Whitman's poem "Song of Myself."

They spar (he's sensitive and black; she's spunky and white) and share (he's into classic jazz; she likes vintage rock) and talk a lot (I mean really a lot) about Whitman. She sometimes yells for her mom who never appears. Then, right before the end of this 90-minute drama, there's a startling revelation that hurls everything that's gone on between them in a wholly different direction.

Under the direction of Sean Daniels, the young actors Kayla Ferguson and Reggie D. White, display an easy rapport with one another but they've been given a big job to do: embody the everyday angst of regular teens, lay the groundwork for the pivotal twist and deliver such highfaluting meditations on Whitman as "So Whitman's 'you' started out as the reader, then became his own soul, then a friend, then the entire planet."  

Despite the fact that both actors are reprising performances they've given in previous productions of the play and that Gunderson actually wrote the part for White (click here to read a Q&A with the playwright), they're only partly successful, struggling with the subtext of the piece and compensating by trying too hard to be ingratiating, as though sensing the restlessness of the audience.

Two women, who apparently hadn't read, as I had, that a surprise was coming, actually stood up and walked out during the middle of the performance I attended. Staying might have given them something to debate over a post-show dinner but I'm not sure it would have left them any more satisfied.

January 27, 2016

Standing Up for the Old-Fashioned Fun of "On Your Feet" and "School of Rock"

Theater snobs complain that Broadway has become too focused on shows that will appeal to the tourist trade. But the populist in me doesn't have a problem with that. As long as a show is well made, it's OK with me even it if isn't what I think of as "my kind of show." Which is why I have no trouble giving thumbs-up to the big eager-to-please musicals On Your Feet! and School of Rock. Neither show is advancing the art form but they're both great fun.

On Your Feet! is the bio-musical about the singer Gloria Estefan and her producer husband Emilio. The couple have been together since Gloria was 19 and have now been married for 37 years. Together they've won nearly two-dozen Grammys and had the first Latin-music album to top the Billboard charts. Both from working class families that fled Castro's Cuba, they have accumulated an estimated net worth of $700 million and last year President Obama awarded them the Presidential Medal of Freedom.

These achievements may be impressive but there's not a lot of drama in them so book writer Alexander Dinelaris squeezes what narrative juice he can from Gloria's mother's unhappiness about her daughter's decision to go into show business, Emilio's battles to move Latin music onto the mainstream and the 1990 tour bus accident that injured Gloria's spine and threatened to leave her in a wheelchair (click here to read a Q&A with the real-life couple, who are also lead producers of the show).

But the real reason for making (and seeing) On Your Feet! is its feel-good music and this jukebox musical is filled with such hits as "1-2-3," "Conga," "Turn the Beat Around," and, of course, "Get On Your Feet," all exuberantly played by an onstage band that includes members of the Estefans' Miami Sound Machine.

The result is like a big dance party and director Jerry Mitchell, who is always up for a good time, cranks the festivities up high. The sets and costumes are vibrantly colored and the 30-member cast (almost all of them, in a nice change to see on Broadway, Hispanic) is constantly whirling around the stage.

Choreographer Sergio Trujillo knocks himself out with one hip-shaking dance after another (click here to read an interview with him). There's even a conga line that snakes through the Marquis Theatre, with the dancers beckoning audience members to join in. 

A mohawk-haired man in the row in front of my sister Joanne and me was so inspired to answer the call that he actually stepped on the laps of the four people between his seat and the aisle.

The leads are great. In her Broadway debut, Ana Villafaña looks and sings just like the younger Gloria but brings her own charisma to the part. Josh Segarra, who plays Emilio, leans a little heavily on his innate sex appeal but it works cause he's got plenty of it.

Stage vets Andréa Burns and Alma Cuervo provide heart as Gloria's disapproving mother and supportive grandmother. And little Eduardo Hernandez almost steals the show when he breaks into his dance routine. By the end, Joanne, a big jukebox musical fan, and I, not normally so, were up on our feet and moving to the music right along with everyone else.

We stood up for School of Rock too. It's the other genre that purists pooh-pooh even more than they do jukebox musicals: a musical based on a hit movie. In this case the move is the 2003 comedy about a failed heavy metal rocker named Dewey Finn who becomes a substitute teacher at a fancy prep school where he secretly turns his grade-school students into a kick-ass rock band.

The movie, written by funnyman Mike White and starring Jack Black at his most manic and charismatic, featured songs by Kiss, The Clash, AC/DC and Metallica. Which made the pedigree for the musical seem somewhat dubious when I first heard about it.

The book for the stage version is by Julian Fellowes, who has written all the episodes of TV's British country-house drama "Downton Abbey." And the music is by Phantom of the Opera's Andrew Lloyd Webber, with lyrics by Glenn Slater, who has specialized in Disney productions like the movie "Tangled" and the stage version of The Little Mermaid.

But what doubters like me forgot is that Lloyd Webber started his career with rock scores for shows like Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat and Jesus Christ Superstar and so knows his way around a guitar riff.  And that Fellowes knows how to craft a narrative that commands attention even when the storyline is as silly and predictable as it is here. 

Fellowes is also unafraid of schmaltz, which allows him to underscore the anxious relationships between the kids and their helicopter parents (straight and gay) that the movie only glossed over (click here to read an interview with the writer).

As the show's lead producer, Lloyd Webber also had the good sense to hire Alex Brightman, until now a Broadway ensemblist, who turns in a high-energy performance that pays homage to Black's Dewey while making the character wholly his own. 

Brightman reportedly gained weight to play Dewey and it's a marvel how he keeps it on as he throws himself around the stage at the Winter Garden for two hours at each performance (click here for a piece about him).

Sierra Boggess plays the by-the-books principal of the school who, only in a musical, becomes Dewey's love interest but she only has a few chances to show off her crystalline soprano. 

Spencer Moss is nerd-perfect as Dewey's best pal Ned who is trying to put his rock days behind him. But poor Mamie Parris has the thankless task of playing Ned's shrewish girlfriend

They're all backed up by a hard working ensemble that, under Laurence Connor's sure-handed direction, takes on triple duty as Dewey's old band mates, the kids' parents and other teachers at the school, helpfully distinguished by Anna Louizos' sly costumes.

But the true key to the show's appeal is the multi-ethnic group of kids, none of whom have yet hit puberty, who make up Dewey's band and its crew. They're augmented by an offstage adult band but there are many moments when the kids are actually playing and when they let it rip, they're equal parts fierce and adorable.

Your irony-obsessed cousin may not care for this show but both your hip grandma and your tween goddaughter are likely to enjoy both School of Rock and On Your Feet!, regardless of what the theater snobs say.

January 16, 2016

Turning on the (Vacation) Ghost Light

My husband K and I are off for a no-Internet-access vacation so I've put on the ghost light that theaters set up when they're temporarily vacant. But I'm leaving plenty of good stuff for you to read and watch while I'm away:

The Flipboard site allows people who are obsessed with a subject (like me with theater) to collect articles they've read about that subject in a single spot so that they can share them with other similarly obsessed people (like a lot of you). I often refer you to The Broadway & Me Magazine and the stories put there currently range from rundowns of the various theater festivals playing around New York this month to a look inside the dressing room of Tim Pigott-Smith, who's giving a terrific performance in the title role of King Charles III, the play, closing Jan. 31, that speculates about what might happen when the current Prince of Wales succeeds his mother to the throne of England. Click here to see those pieces and others.

I've also honed in on a few specific obsessions with a Flipboard collection on Shakespeare in honor of this year's celebration of the 400th anniversary of his death (and you can find that one here) and another on everything I can find about the phenomenon that is the musical Hamilton (which you can find here).

And speaking of Hamilton, I hope you'll also read the Q&A I recently did for Playbill with Ron Chernow, the guy who wrote the biography on which Lin-Manuel Miranda based Hamilton. You can find it by clicking here.

But this isn't all about me. The actor and writer Eric Bogosian recruited a bunch of his friends to create "100 (Monologues)" a collection of videos in which such terrific actors as Dylan Baker, Jessica Hecht, Marin Ireland and Michael Shannon sit on a simple set and perform short soliloquies that Bogosian wrote between 1980 and 2006. One with Brian D'Arcy James, currently on a roll with his performances in the musical Something Rotten and the movie "Spotlight," raised the hair on my arms it was so damn good. You can check them all out by clicking here.

And although its connection to theater is slight, I got such a charge out of the video that mashes up the catchy Bruno Mars song "Uptown Funk" with dance sequences from the Golden Age of Hollywood musicals. I defy you to watch without smiling. Click here to find it.

Enjoy them all and I'll see you in a couple of weeks.

January 13, 2016

"Misery" Isn't Completely Miserable

Everything I've read about Stephen King suggests he's a really nice guy. He's been married to the same woman for 45 years. He gives away about $4 million a year to worthy causes. And he works hard, having published more than 50 novels and four times as many short stories. But I haven't read much by Stephen King or seen the movies based on what he's written because his books are designed to creep people out and I'm a notorious scaredy cat.

That means I've never seen "Misery," the movie that won Kathy Bates an Oscar for her portrayal of a crazed super fan named Annie Wilkes who rescues a famous writer from a car crash and holds him hostage in her isolated farmhouse until he agrees to resurrect the heroine he's killed off in her favorite romance series.

It also means I had trepidations about seeing the new stage adaptation, even though it was written by the much revered William Goldman (yep, the same guy who wrote the classic theater book "The Season," as well as the screenplays for "Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid," "All the President's Men"—and "Misery").

Reviews, to be kind, have not been kind for this production. The combined grades of the professional critics averaged just 48 on Show-Score (click here to read some of the withering remarks)

But to my surprise, and relief, I actually ended up not minding the show at all. Although that's probably for the very reason that others didn't like it: it's not scary. 

In fact, Misery is so tension-free that I never had to hold my hand in front of my eyes and peek through my fingers at any point during its 90-minute running time, not even when Bruce Willis, playing the writer, wheels through the house while Annie is out, a scene made almost cinematic by David Korins' nifty revolving set and Michael Friedman's spooky interstitial music (click here to sample it).

Elizabeth Marvel was originally supposed to play Annie but dropped out before rehearsals began and Laurie Metcalf stepped in. At home in all kinds of roles, Metcalf is probably a better choice than the often-eccentric Marvel. I mean if you were doing a production of The Wizard of Oz, you'd cast Metcalf as the always-supportive Scarecrow, while Marvel might make more sense as the leader of the Winged Monkeys.

And indeed Metcalf commits fully to the role of Annie. She makes it clear that the woman is a nut case and she doesn't back away from the campiness that has developed around the character over the decades. But she also taps into the pathos of a lonely woman who becomes enthralled with the fantasy life she's found in a series of books because her own life is so barren.

Misery also marks Willis' Broadway debut and is the first time the movie star has been on a New York stage since he understudied Ed Harris in the 1983 off-Broadway production of Fool for Love.

Since his character spends most of his time in a bed or a wheelchair while plotting his escape, Willis doesn't really have all that much to do. And although he still tripped over the occasional line seven weeks after the show opened, he did his part well enough. In fact, I'm giving him points for being smart enough to pick a piece that couldn't embarrass him too much (click here to read an uncomfortable interview he did with The NewYork Times).

However the bad word-of-mouth has been keeping theatergoers away and the show, which started its run at the Broadhurst Theatre with standing room only, has seen its audience dwindle to houses only two-thirds full and is now limping toward a close on Feb.14.

But Willis super fans and those of the movie (I could tell who they were at my performance because they not only had grins on their faces both before the show and after but squealed during Misery's most infamous scene) may have a good time.