Recent Broadway Nights: 11/7/05
The hero's dead sister in heaven, twelve-year-old Vera, sings, "The world is spinning with imperfect rhymes." One wonders if this is a reaction to the woeful, empty lyrics, filled with platitudes about life and love. But even with Brooks' score of relentless, interchangeable ballads for the young lovers many of them reprised, the show is too bizarre to be boring, and is therefore more fun to sit through than any number of saner but drearier duds.
There are any number of treasurable moments. Of course, there's the number "Secrets," with angel Winston commenting on the hero's health problem by removing a skelton from a closet and dancing with it, then extracting from the skeleton's skull a ball representing a tumor; God in the person of bike-riding, baseball-cap-wearing Al auditioning for his own opera by singing Brooks' pre-existing commercial jingles for Volkswagen and Dr. Pepper; and, of course, the wedding of lovers J.T. and Jenny in front of a giant lemon, a word that represents happiness for J.T., but perhaps no longer does for Brooks.
It would be unfair to fault anyone in the cast; they all deserve credit just for getting through it. In fact, leading man Christopher Hanke does an impressive job of making hero J.T. likable. And Jessica Boevers hurls herself into the role of love interest Jenny. The advance publicity promised us a leading-lady character with OCD, but that promise, except for a mention near the beginning, goes unfulfilled.
As opera-producing angel Winston, David Turner appears to be having all the fun, and his "we're-all-in-this-together" spirit is understandable. As the deceased Vera, young belter Chiara Navarra is mechanical, while Roberta Gumbel displays a fine soprano. She's the hero's dead mother, who, in another characteristically weird moment, sings an operatic aria in Italian.
It's amusing to comtemplate the elaborate, obviously costly physical production that has been expended on this hopeless property. Also amusing is the fact that In My Life was deemed to be in such good shape that it was not granted an out-of-town tryout of any sort, a tryout that might very well have resulted in the lack of a Broadway incarnation.
A number of critics felt that In My Life was not the jaw-dropping catastrophe it was expected to be. But I beg to differ; I sat in amazement through much of it. In My Life seemed to this observer a singular musical-theatre event, and one that won't soon be forgotten. And making it all the more unbelievable is the fact that it's still running, and that money is still being poured into it.
Make no mistake, though, In My Life represents a singular artistic vision, one that has made it to the stage pretty much unimpeded and one that collectors are likely to treasure. At the very end of the evening, Winston asks "Might there be a sequel?" Can't wait.
In the '60s, caricaturist Al Hirschfeld drew a series in Playbill on unlikely casting, depicting celebrated Broadway stars in roles they were guaranteed never to play. Had Hirschfeld resumed that series in the '90s, he might have included Harvey Fierstein and Rosie O'Donnell as Tevye and Golde in Fiddler on the Roof.
After nine months in the role of Tevye, Fierstein's performance remains spontaneous, eccentric, and extravagant, full of warmth, spirit, and personality. One now barely notices the vocal peculiarities of his "If I Were a Rich Man," so well does he perform the number.
More relaxed than before, Fierstein has allowed even more of his customary mannerisms into the performance. Some moments have been substantially embroidered, while others are a bit rushed. Still, this is a poignant and magnetic star turn, and one that does justice to a great part and a great show.
O'Donnell offers a restrained, diligent, honest performance that's never entirely believable. Her first Broadway musical role, Rizzo in Grease, didn't require much acting. In Seussical, O'Donnell stood outside the action as narrator and, for that matter, as a Cat in the Hat. In the ultra-realistic Fiddler, she is less comfortable. Her performance does evince sufficient understanding of the character and the piece. But she overdoes her reactions to the dialogue of others and adopts an unidentifiable accent to cover her own, charming one. And it can't be said that there's much sexual chemistry between this Tevye and Golde. Surprisingly, O'Donnell is best in the most demanding, most dramatic moments of the role. And for an admitted non-singer, her singing here isn't bad at all.
Far more naturalistic than his predecessor, Michael Therriault is a most appealing Motel, while Paul Anthony Stewart is a pleasing Perchik. Sally Murphy, Laura Shoop, and Tricia Paoluccio continue to do good work as Tevye's eldest daughters, while Nancy Opel has never quite made the role of Yente her own.
Although Brooke Shields received excellent reviews for her recent takeover in the Broadway revival of Wonderful Town, her more recent stint as Roxie Hart in Chicago wasn't covered by New York critics. That's probably because the engagement lasted only eight weeks, during which time Shields did strong business. But I happened to attend one of Shields' Chicago performances, six weeks into her run, and enjoyed checking out the other new principals as well. It was the first time I had caught the revival since Melanie Griffith played Roxie in 2003; now approaching it tenth year, the production continues to play well and satisfy the crowd.
Shields, who previously played Roxie in London, is innately classy. Being trashy doesn't come naturally to her, so she had to work very hard to seem as tough, cheap, and desperate as the part demands. Shields came most alive in her amusingly extended "Roxie" number. And she executed the choreography well enough. But in general, it was a glamorous, enthusiastic performance that was never entirely persuasive. One of the biggest names this revival has ever welcomed, Shields got her own, separate-from-Velma, final bow, something even Melanie Griffith wasn't granted.
As Velma, Luba Mason isn't one of the role's better dancers, but her singing is strong, and she has just the right look and sardonic manner. Clarke Peters, who was the second Billy Flynn in the London revival following Henry Goodman, was slick, slippery, and icy. A far more adept actress-comedienne than many of her predecessors in the revival, Debra Monk is a brassy, sassy, witty Mama Morton, and fine in the music. Monk co-starred in another Kander and Ebb show, Steel Pier, that evicted this Chicago revival from its first home, the Richard Rodgers Theatre. R. Lowe sings Mary Sunshine quite well. And P.J. Benjamin remains solid as Amos.
I doubt that Neil Simon's The Odd Couple can ever again have the impact it had when it was new, on Broadway in 1965. By now, its celebrated set-up is probably familiar even to those who've never actually seen the play on stage. And in addition to repeats of the TV series, there's a perfectly fine film version, with Walter Matthau, the peerless original stage Oscar, repeating opposite Jack Lemmon.
I made the mistake of viewing that film just prior to attending the revival. Simon's play is loaded with characters spouting one-liners, so it requires actors who can play their parts for real. Matthau and Lemmon have the effortless ability to become their roles, and the comedy flows from their rooting everything in reality.
Things start off well at the Brooks Atkinson, where the opening scene with the card players promises an evening of nostalgic delight. But Nathan Lane and Matthew Broderick are not fully credible in their roles as Oscar and Felix. Broderick is about as mannered as he was in Brighton Beach Memoirs, How to Succeed..., The Producers, and the recent The Foreigner. Those mannerisms worked well in Brighton Beach and The Producers, but here they get in the way of Broderick creating a fully-dimensional character. Somehow Broderick seems to turn into a different actor in films, where he has given superb, manner-free performances in such films as Election and You Can Count on Me.
Lane is, as always, an expert comic player, but one never totally buys him as relaxed, horny slob Oscar Madison. Brad Garrett, who is very winning as Murray the Cop, understudies Lane, and might make a better Oscar than Lane.
The energy of that opening scene dissipates the first time Lane and Broderick are left alone together on stage. But then these stars were better in The Producers, an evening-long cartoon that needs no grounding in reality.