42nd Street at Theatre Under the Stars

After skipping last year, Richard and I returned to Malkin Bowl last night for our annual pilgrimage to Theatre Under the Stars. The production we were seeing was the classic Depression-set toe-tapper 42nd Street, one of Richard's all-time favourites. Despite the era in which it is set, 42nd Street was only first produced on Broadway in 1980, directed by the legendary Gower Champion, who dropped dead on opening night; and in terms of current trends on the Great White Way, it is interesting to note that 42nd Street is both a jukebox musical and an adaptation of a movie. That would, of course, be the famous 1933 film directed by Lloyd Bacon (based on the novel by Bradford Ropes), and with its eye-popping choreography for the camera by Busby Berkley. Those routines are hard to reproduce on stage, but nevertheless one of the signature pleasures of watching this musical remains its mostly all-tap dancing, and in this TUTS production veteran choreographer Shelley Stewart Hunt finds a number of innovative ways to showcase the hoofing chops of director Robert McQueen's very talented cast.

The musical's star-is-born plot concerns would-be chorine Peggy Sawyer (Paige Fraser), who after initially missing her audition finds herself cast at the last minute in director Julian Marsh's (Andrew Cownden) latest blockbuster entertainment, Pretty Lady. The work is meant to be a vehicle for the aging star, Dorothy Brock (a very fine Janet Gigliotti), whose mobster boyfriend is bankrolling the production, but who is also seeing Pat Denning (Matthias Falvai) on the side. When Dorothy injures herself in an out-of-town tryout, she blames Peggy. Marsh immediately fires her and announces that the production will close and that audience members will have the cost of their tickets (a whopping $4.40) refunded, a nice meta-theatrical moment that brings us to intermission. In the second act, Peggy's fellow chorus girls (all splendid, especially Jolene Bernadino as the polkadot-wearing Annie) hatch a plan to avoid unemployment and the bread lines, scheming with the show's junior tenor lead, Billy Lawlor (the velvety-voiced Blake Sartin) to get Peggy rehired as the show's replacement lead. Peggy has only 36 hours to learn all of Dorothy's songs, dialogue, and dances, with Marsh reminding her at every turn that the fate of the show, 100 jobs, and a one-hundred thousand dollar investment are resting on her tiny shoulders.

Of course, she triumphs and the climactic title number is, in McQueen's and his designers' hands, a rousing spectacle of eye-popping colour (the costumes are by Christina Sinosich) and razzmatazz movement. Interestingly, the lyrics of "42nd Street," the song, are all about the mixing of different classes and social demographics ("where the underworld can meet the elite") and in a little bit of subtle stage business off to the side, McQueen makes it clear that Marsh still depends on mob money to make the confection-within-a-confection that we are watching fly. And while Marsh is a mostly benign and soft-hearted impresario who just wants to make the best musical he can, it is interesting to consider his bullying of Peggy in light of our present #MeToo era. No matter their singing and dancing talents, the chorus girls in Pretty Lady fundamentally owe their jobs to their abilities to match that description, and whether or not they are able to eat very much depends on the whims of men like Marsh and Dorothy's mobster boyfriend. Which is why the scene that is most affecting for me in the show is the one in which Dorothy, hobbling but now happily married to Pat, confers with Peggy in her dressing room just before the curtain of Pretty Lady is set to rise. Here we get not the usual Hollywood scene of bitter female rivalry, but rather a tenderly shared duet ("About a Quarter to Nine") between two assured professionals.

As always, the TUTS orchestra was in excellent form, with the hard-working music director and conductor Christopher King here doing double duty as the on-stage pianist Oscar. And while I missed hearing the musical's usual penultimate number, "Shuffle Off to Buffalo" (despite it being listed in the program), the production--and the splendid open-air summer evening--more than lived up to my expectations.

P

West Side Story at TUTS

It took us a while, but Richard and I finally made to the venerable Malkin Bowl for this year's iteration of Theatre Under the Stars. Eschewing all things Disney for the classic idiom of American musical theatre, we chose to see West Side Story, and we certainly had beautiful night for it.

I've seen the 1961 film adaptation of West Side Story, but never a live production of the musical, not even the version staged by the Vancouver Opera a few years ago. Leonard Bernstein's score is certainly operatic, not least in the signature numbers Maria and Tonight and Somewhere. But the orchestrations also draw as much, if not more, from jazz, with Bernstein ably distilling that form's polyglot influences into a story about the tragic consequences of a cross-cultural love affair. That said, under musical director Chris D. King (who also, somewhat mysteriously, doubles as the racist detective Schrank, requiring him to vacate his conductor's box for long stretches), the playing last night seemed a little underwhelming, even slow. Many of the jazzier numbers lacked pep to my admittedly untrained ears.

Notwithstanding all the glorious music (supplemented of course by the wonderful lyrics of Stephen Sondheim), it is the dancing that has always set West Side Story apart. The great Jerome Robbins (who also conceived and directed the musical's Broadway premiere) was responsible for the original choreography, which has become so iconic--all those finger snaps and high-flying leaps--that it continues to be quoted everywhere. Local dance artist and choreographer Tara Cheyenne Friedenberg was given the unenviable task of creating a completely new movement score for this production (she had to sign a waiver from the Robbins estate attesting to this), while also providing enough of an homage to encourage buy-in from audience members familiar with the musical's choreographic pedigree. She succeeds brilliantly, drawing on period street dance idioms, contemporary acro, and her own take on classic mambo and waltz steps (especially in numbers like America and I Feel Pretty). She is aided immeasurably by her talented cast, especially the boys who make up the rival Jets and Sharks gangs, who are able to get so much air in the opening prologue (a musical theatre movement sequence that, when it first appeared, was as groundbreaking as Agnes de Mille's famous dream ballet in Oklahoma!) that one would think they were experts parkourists (Brian Ball's brilliant set of moveable scaffolding aids immeasurably in this regard). The second act number Gee, Officer Krupke is also a terrific showcase for the movement talents of the Jets half of the male ensemble, with William Edward Hutchinson (as Action) and Kurtis D'Aoust (as Big Deal) demonstrating admirable strength and flexibility respectively. (An interesting side note: for all the progressive social politics regarding the treatment of Puerto Rican immigrants embedded into Arthur Laurents' book to West Side Story, it is noticeable just how much less stage and singing time the Sharks get throughout the production.)

Not that the women in the show are slouches in the dancing department. Friedenberg's update of the shimmying salsa steps and kicks accompanying America requires speed and precision and, above all, abundant personality. The women, led by a terrific Alexandra Lainfiesta as Anita, more than deliver. I also very much appreciated those moments when Friedenberg slowed things down, as when Tony and Maria first spot each other at the school dance, with the rest of the cast swaying in place as the doomed lovers move towards each other from across the room, pulled by a force they are unable to resist. During the dream sequence in Act 2 Friendenberg also features some interesting partnering, suggesting in her same-sex pairings that the right to choose whom one loves extends beyond cultural difference.

I have spent so much time talking about the dancing in this production because, frankly, the singing was only so-so. Jennifer Gillis, as Maria, and Matt Montgomery, as Tony, make a winsome couple, but vocally they failed to impress. Montgomery can hit the high notes, but he needs greater depth and projection in the lower range to make a song like Maria truly soar. Gillis certainly has power, but her soprano often lacks nuance and without the right control comes across as a bit shrill in the upper register. When she is forced to reign things in a bit, as in the delightful I Feel Pretty, the results are quite pleasing. By contrast, Lainfiesta's Anita and Daniel James White's Riff, are standouts in both their singing and their acting, which in turn points to one of the central paradoxes of this work: pace Shakespeare, the secondary characters are far more interesting than the leads.

And speaking of folks in the background making an impression. Director Sarah Rodgers chooses to end the show with a reprise of Somewhere, but this time sung as a solo by Daren Dyhengo, who plays the otherwise mostly anonymous Shark Luis. Dyhengo has a beautiful tenor and his rendition of the song was perhaps the single most electrifying musical moment in the whole production. Which begs the question: why wasn't he front and centre from the beginning?

P

The Broadway Chorus' "Dunce Upon a Time"

A brief shout-out to Broadway Chorus's just-concluded Dunce Upon a Time, the local musical rep company's 26th hilarious show built around existing show tunes, and featuring the inestimable talents of Artistic Director Ashley Lambert-Maberly, musical director Sarah Jaysmith, and an ensemble of incredibly talented amateur performers who just love to sing.

As with the past BC show I saw, last year's There's Something About Fairy, I am amazed at how Lambert-Maberly is able to craft a story around songs from musicals as diverse as Once, Into the Woods, Sister Act, and The Book of Morman (the duet to "I Believe" by Gil Jaysmith and Theo Wiersma is a show-stopper). In this case, our plot at first glance seems to unfold like a Vancouver riff on The Stepford Wives, as formerly homeless couple Brandon and Jane find themselves as fish out of water in the leafy upscale neighbourhood of West Shaughnessy Dale. But eventually we discover there may be more than just Cold War political and gender ideologies in the water as the musical climaxes in a Wagneresque "Twilight of the Gods" moment atop the penthouse at the Shangri La Hotel.

In between we get BC's trademark potpourri of musical theatre hits, with virtually everyone in the 30+-member ensemble getting a chance to shine in the spotlight. A special mention, however, to PuSh Festival Development Manager Jocelyn MacDougall, who plays Jane. In addition to singing, dancing, and acting her pants off, Jocelyn also plays the viola (!), and sports a bad-ass black wig that makes her look like Frida Lyngstad (the brunette from ABBA).

Last night was a riotous good time that also had Richard and I looking forward to our annual trip to Theatre Under the Stars.

P.

Music Man at TUTS

Last night was our annual pilgrimage to Theatre Under the Stars in Stanley Park, something of an extra special outing this year not just because the weather cooperated, but also because we were introducing my sister and niece (visiting from Ontario) to Vancouver's venerable open-air institution. We chose The Music Man rather than The Titanic, because Richard and I have a special fondness for the Robert Preston/Shirley Jones film. And also because it's a meta-musical, the huckster Harold Hill literally striking a chord with the residents of River City, Iowa, despite knowing nothing about music himself.

What is so striking about writer/composer/lyricist Meredith Wilson's first Broadway outing (he also is the brains behind The Unsinkable Molly Brown, in addition to writing classical symphonies and composing numerous film scores) is how varied is the mix of musical styles and idioms, many of them seemingly antithetical to the musical theatre genre itself. For example, he builds much of the narrative around recitative and counterpoint and "in the round" orchestrations--which must be incredibly demanding to sing. Then, too, there are multiple moments of barbershop crooning from the quartet formed by Harold of the bickering school board men. It's both a bold and ego-busting mood for a composer, especially in a musical about forming a marching band, to leave off with all of the instruments in the pit and give things over entirely to a cappella harmonies for significant stretches at a time. Happily, in all cases the company was in excellent form and up to the tasks set for them.

And, to be sure, all of these seemingly "non-musical" elements are offset by the big production numbers, including "Seventy-Six Trombones," and of course the classic "(Ya Got) Trouble." As with that number, so too with the entire musical: its success depends, like his character's proposed swindle of River City's residents, on the charisma of the actor in the lead role of Harold Hill. Robert Preston's film version is, in most respects, unsurpassable. But LA and Toronto veteran Daren Herbert comes close. On stage for almost every number, Herbert's Hill is as effortless in his dulcet tones and nimble steps as he is in the guile behind each. It is a credit to Herbert that we not only believe in him in the role, but also in Hill's crazy scheme--first to dupe River City, then to seduce its uptight and on-to-him librarian, Marion. Samantha Currie provides fine support in the latter role. As does the entire cast, especially the many child actors.

As with past TUTS offerings, the evening did not disappoint.

P.

Anything Goes at TUTS

Jacqueline Breakwell (center), as Erma, surrounded by flapping chorines in the TUTS production of Anything Goes

As we have for the past several summers Richard and I made our way to Stanley Park's Malkin Bowl last night to catch Theatre Under the Stars' production of Cole Porter's Anything Goes, on in repertory with Bye Bye Birdie until the end of next week. We picked a perfect night for it: clear skies and warm (I only added my last layer toward the end of Act 2), no wind, and also hardly any bugs.

As a musical, Anything Goes shouldn't work: its featherweight book (co-written by P.G. Wodehouse) is a farce that turns on a sequence of contrived coincidences and barely believable disguises (not to mention heaps of Orientalist stereotypes); the male and female leads are not a couple; and Porter blows his musical wad, as it were, in the first act, which contains the hits "I Get a Kick Out of You," "You're the Top," "It's De-Lovely," and, of course, the rousing title tune and its signature tap accompaniment.

But in Reno Sweeney, the chanteuse-revivalist, who gets all the big numbers, and whose open sexuality and lusty appetites offer a trenchant commentary on social and religious repression and hypocrisy, Porter has created one of the great female musical theatre roles. Indeed, I think it is fair to say that the success of any production of Anything Goes hinges on the successful casting of Reno. Ethel Merman filled the bill in the 1934 Broadway premiere, and her full-throated vocal stylings, caustic comedy, and imposing physical presence have to a certain extent established the template for all Renos to follow, including Patti LuPone in the acclaimed 1987 Broadway revival (interesting side note: Merman and LuPone would also both go on to star as Mama Rose in Gypsy). Most recently, the incomparable Sutton Foster has stepped into Reno's shoes in the current Broadway revival, and judging by the hoofing she did on the Tony Awards in June, those shoes are on fire. In Irene Karas, Vancouver now has its own memorable Reno, big-voiced, warm-hearted, light on her feet, adept at physical comedy, and always leading (or shooting) from the hip.

Granted, I'm no musicologist, but Porter's songs have always struck me as delicate, even ethereal confections, dependent on clever rhymes (most filled with abundant sexual innuendo) and lots of alliteration. With rare exceptions, one would not classify him as a someone who writes songs to be belted. Which is why I was so surprised by Reno's first big second act number, "Blow, Gabriel, Blow," as it sees Porter mining blues spirituals and swing, and allows Karas to explore the rich lower registers of her vocal range. Equally riveting in her two solo numbers is Jacqueline Breakwell as Erma, the seductive moll to gangster Moonface Martin (a terrifically funny Andrew Cownden). Breakwell (pictured above) has a background in burlesque, and it shows in terms of how she is able to put over her songs with just the right combination of sex appeal and comic swagger. Indeed, watching Karas and Breakwell last night, it struck me that through Reno and Erma, Porter was channeling some of his own sexuality; in the frank display of their sexual desires, their unapologetic promiscuity, and the worship they receive from a bevy of handsome sailors, Reno and Erma can partly be read as gay men in drag (and, here, one can also reference the legendary alternative lyrics to songs like "You're the Top," in particular).

Many of the other performances in this production are also winning, including the fleet-footed Todd Talbot as the besotted Billy Crocker, Lauren Bowler (Cathy in last year's production of Singin' in the Rain) as his inamorata Hope Harcourt, and Seth Little as Lord Evelyn Oakleigh, the buffoonish Englishman to whom Hope is disastrously betrothed, and whose rediscovery of the Gypsy within (aided, of course, by the Carmen-like Reno) eventually sets all aright, resulting in a traditional comic closure that features almost as many nuptials as As You Like It, playing across the water at Bard on the Beach.

I'm always amazed at the audiences who turn out for TUTS shows: they represent a cross-section (tourists and locals, old and young, ethnically diverse, etc.) you don't see at other shows. My only complaint last night was that we were too quiet. Everyone on stage was giving 110%, and for the most part our applause was polite and restrained. More whooping and whistles are needed for the final shows.

P.

Singin' Under the Stars in Stanley Park

It seemed appropriate that on Friday night, nearing the end of what has been the driest July in Vancouver in nearly a decade, Richard and I should be at the Malkin Bowl in Stanley Park for Theatre Under the Stars' 2010 production of Singin' in the Rain. As TUTS producer James Cronk announced just before the start of the show, the only rain we'd be seeing over the next two hours and twenty minutes would be on stage.

And, indeed, the classic Gene Kelly title number from the MGM film is reproduced faithfully to close out Act One, with Lindsay Sterk's Don Lockwood exuberantly tapping out his love for Kathy Selden (Lauren Bowler) as the rain pours down and he uses his umbrella to whirl himself from puddle to puddle rather than to keep himself dry. A reprise of the song, featuring the entire company in bright yellow slickers and hats was a fine send-off to a very enjoyable evening. TUTS's more than 40-year commitment to staging the classic American musicals in this spectacular outdoor setting is one of the highlights of late summer in Vancouver, and there's nothing like walking out from the trees surrounding Malkin Bowl to rediscover the downtown skyline twinkling in the distance. It's one of the great city vistas, made all the more spectacular (quite literally) when one approaches it humming and dancing to a classic Broadway tune.

Singin' in the Rain, enacting like many a backstage movie musical before it, a dialectic between stage and screen, is made all the more self-reflexive by its focus on Hollywood during its transition from silent to sound cinema. The silent movie partnership between Don Lockwood and Lina Lamont (a note-perfect Cailin Stadnyk in this production) is about to be eclipsed, the plot-lines and outsized acting of their costume melodramas as unsuitable as Lina's grating Brooklyn accent to the new realism demanded by the talkies. Enter Kathy Selden, a bit player at the studio where Lockwood and Lamont work, whose free spirit and melodious voice captivate Don and set the wheels in motion in the mind of Don's piano-playing buddy Cosmo Brown (Neil Minor, who seems to channel the spirit of Donald O'Connor from the film to an uncanny degree here). Cosmo has a plan for how they can rescue Lockwood and Lamont's first talking picture: turn it into a musical and dub Kathy's voice over Lina.

Singin' in the Rain is interesting as well for the way in which it conforms to what Robert Altman, in his book The American Movie Musical, has identified as the doubled marital/entertainment telos of the genre. That is, Don and Kathy's romance not only provides the requisite heterosexual ephithalium, but in this case also saves Don's studio from going under. In the Hollywood musical, marriage and entertainment are good business.

Except that in the case of Singin' in the Rain, and other backstage musicals like it (including many starring Ginger Rogers and Fred Astaire), there is as part of this equation also usually some sort of homosocial remainder, the buddy like Cosmo who at once orchestrates and oversees the progression of heterosexual romance and cannily inserts himself within its menage. Remember, there are three people who go over that couch in that famous scene at Don's house where Cosmo first hatches his scheme to save "The Dueling Cavalier" by turning it into "The Dancing Cavalier"--just as there are three people in the famous poster for the 1952 movie (see above). Remember, too, that Lina, as the face to Kathy's voice, and in her steadfast belief in the truth about what the gossip magazines print regarding her relationship with Don, likewise remains a spectral celluloid presence in the lives of our stage couple.

The TUTS production subtly played up these homosocial elements, with Cosmo and Don's "Moses" number (in which they parody the elocution lessons the studio requires of Lamont and Lockwood) providing for me not just the musical highlight of the evening, but also the telling evidence that, after studio boss R.F. Simpson (Fred Galloway) and his simpering assistant Rod Steele (a very charismatic Daniel White), these two bachelors are the real old marrieds on this studio lot. This was mirrored in the bosom (again, quite literally) relationship between Lina and her best friend Zelda (Lori Zondag), whose shared air kisses were a marvel to behold.

Don and Kathy might be the ostensible stars of the show as it unfurls on stage, but it's Cosmo and Lina we remember long after in our screen memories.

P.