The Theater Blog

It’s ironic that the two most entertaining new shows on Broadway this year so far are a musical based on a failed movie from 1980 and a straight comedy written in 1898. Both Xanadu and Is He Dead? are original productions. And both are layered with a sense of irony, kitsch, and simply, undeniable theatrical pleasure.

Is He Dead? is one of those shows that is loaded with an unexpected parade of emerging Broadway stars. It is a particular surprise that there are so many musical theater stars in this non-musical farce. The show is led by Norbert Leo Butz, who was last seen on Broadway winning the Tony for Dirty Rotten Scoundrels. In support are the legendary John McMartin, Spamalot’s Michael McGrath, Tarzan’s Jenn Gambatese, The Lion King/Sunset Blvd’s Tom Alan Robbins, and the amazing David Pittu, who was the very best thing to be found in the short run of LoveMusik.

Also in this formidable cast from the non-musical world are Byron Jennings, Patricia Connolly, the great Marylouise Burke (Miles’ mom from Sideways), Jeremy Bobb, and the Broadway-debuting Bridget Regan.

Michael Blakemore, the director who became hot on Broadway for his production of the backstage farce Noises Off, directs the farce that was written by Mark Twain and intended for production in 1898, in the spirit of real old-school theater. The stage is mic’ed, but not the actors. The stage is simple and brightly lit, relying on the actors to move the proceedings along. And that script!

Maybe, if this was a script of this era, one might wonder why it lingers in classic modes of farce. But walking in without thinking too much about what we were about to see, the show jumps in, feet first, and never really lets you go.

Butz is, at least at first, the straight man to a trio of men of different nations; American, Dutch, and Irish. The show is so light-hearted about it, the modern notion of “oh no, three ethnic groups with the stereotypes,” is just not a factor. Butz’ Jean-Francois Millet is based on the real French artist… and France is where the show is set. But the great stereotypical Frenchman of the show is the arch-villain, Bastien Andre, played wonderfully by Byron Jennings. He is the evil landlord… and they can’t pay the rent… but they gotta pay the rent.

Millet, a starving artist amongst starving artists, is doing amazing work, but it is not cheerful enough. They realize how artists like him are better appreciate after they die. And so, a plot is hatched… he will die in public… and not only will they pay the rent, but hope to get rich.

Of course, this is a big ol’ farce and there has to be at least one big twist to the proceedings… and it is the twisting of Millet, who can’t stand being in hiding. How will he be out in public without being caught not being dead?

And away we go…

The secret to Is He Dead?’s success is great performances – almost every actor gets at least one showstopping moment – tight, tight direction, and a simple, obvious, delightful play. Every time you decide one character is “the best one,” another one comes along with a great bit. You have the two gorgeous sisters, looking for happy, aesthetic marriages… and the two apparent spinster sisters. You have the trip of sidekicks, right out of Twain and reflected in the films of Preston Sturges… they are scoundrels, but righteous, but selfish, but charming as hell. You have the good older man and the evil older man, both considering younger women. And of course, you have the very talented struggling artist, hoping as we do with him, to overcome the fate of so many legendary artists… hoping to enjoy his success while still alive. (You also have David Pittu in five roles, killing each of them, a real character acting star waiting for his Shaloub moment.)

I couldn’t have had more fun… well, at least not without roller skates. I have no idea how the show will be reviewed. (One major critic grimaced his way through the matinee… likely the only person in the intimate Lyceum Theater.) But audiences will be hungry for this great couple hours of old school, big laugh, sweet spirited theater. It will not be the best new play of this year. (Rock-n-Roll is in the lead there.) But this show has the spirit that made Noises Off and Avenue Q such successes. Simple, smart fun. Go.

Posted by poland at 12:40 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Ever hear someone talk about a theater actor “playing to the back row?” Last night, playing to the back row only reached the front row on Broadway.

Almost exactly three months after having visited Mel Brooks’ new musical of an old movie, Young Frankenstein, in Seattle, we returned to the show on Broadway to see what changes had or had not been made. Expectations were that there would be minimal adjusting, given that a few who have seen it in both venues indicated that Mr. Brooks, Mr. Meehan (his co-writer on the book), and director Susan Stroman had not changed much from Seattle. More striking were the pans of the show coming from various corners of erudite New York.

The rough reality is… the critics are not insane or recklessly brutal. The show, which I thought was at about 80%/85% in Seattle has actually been improved in some areas. But what critics in NY could not have known, having not been to Seattle, is that the problem with Young Frankenstein is not so much the show… it’s the theater.

I could understand harsh reviews in light of the ubiquitousness of The Producers and the inevitability of backlash. But the harshness was overwhelming. And now I know… the stage is overwhelming.

There was talk about the Hilton Theater being a frickin’ barn when Brooks & Co decided to book that theater instead of the St James, where The Producers played so well. But you can’t begin to understand just how delicate the balance of a show and a theater unless you have witnessed this abuse to one of the great physical stage productions I have ever witnessed… reduced to a wailing infant in the massive bosom of this hall. It was stunning.

I don’t know the actual dimensions, but it seemed that the stage was 30 feet wider, 20 feet deeper, that the front of the set was set 10 feet further away from the front row of the theater, and that the proscenium was at least 15 feet higher than in Seattle. The gut feeling was like watching The Tonys set in Radio City Music Hall, which is so much bigger than any stage for most any show on Broadway… or like a touring company of a Broadway show, which play multi-purpose venues that hold over 2000 people so that they can make a mint when a show comes to town for a week or two. (I grew up with the Theater of Performing Arts in Miami Beach, which was so huge that it became a real problem and they had to design ways to cut off large portions of the theater when straight plays came to town.)

It is also not unlike watching a wide-screen movie on a 15” television.

As a result, the one performance that I really felt was too big and unsophisticated for the Seattle run, Andrea Martin’s, is now the absolute showstopper… because she is the only one big enough – and that includes The Monster – to play to the back row effectively. Everyone else, as the reviews keep saying, is lost on that damned stage. Beautiful subtle bits that the audience – and I – loved in Seattle have that touring company hackneyed feel now… not because of the performances, but because of the stage swallowing the subtleties. And the modern convention of amplifying everything makes it worse, because now everyone sounds like they are in this giant television and we are hearing the audio from speakers.

There were some positive changes. Megan Mullally stopped trying quite so hard with the through-the-nose accent and lets loose while belting… to great effect. The first act curtain is much stronger than it was. Some of the chorus stuff was cut down. And most effectively, the narrowed the “Join The Family Business” number and, it seems, hired a stronger performer – or at least gave him more room to be a fuller character – to Victor Frankenstein, played her by Kevin Ligon. It makes a big difference.

But the pain of watching stuff that worked so well get lost on that stage… agony. Please, please, please Mr. Brooks… spend whatever it costs and move the show to another house that won’t swallow it whole! You will be paid back with extra years – really, years – of patronage.

And though I hate experiential journalism, I will offer my sister, who lives in the Washington, D.C. area and comes to New York on package tours a few times a year. Her tastes are not terribly sophisticated… this show is PERFECT for her. But she is already wondering, based on the reviews, if it is a good choice. And I have to say, if I didn’t know what I had seen, I would be questioning whether it was worth seeing. When Fredrick and Inga roll, roll, roll in the hay, the moment is true Broadway magic. But not anymore. It is a great song, great performance, great choreography down to the horses, a great visual… and lost on the massive stage of the Hilton. (One cannot be redundant on this point.)

Even the curtain for the show, which is the image from the film of the Frankenstein castle on the hill… it was beautiful in Seattle and looks like crap here. Why? Well, one of the functional problems of a space that large is lighting needs to be brighter. And you see it all through the show. You are looking at big lights trying to do their work… work you are only supposed to see subconsciously. And it’s like filling a cavern.

I have to admit… at first I thought the actors were bored already, which would be shocking so early in a run. But what they were trying to do is to connect… in any way, connect, like they did in Seattle. So Roger Bart really is SCREAMING all of the time… Christopher Fitzgerald lovely vaudeville stuff becomes him jumping up and down to get your attention, Sutton Foster, lanky and lusty, is barely a prop now, and Shuler Hensley as The Monster is shockingly unimposing.

Move the show. Or it will not be alive, alive half as long as audiences would like it to be. In fact, it may be a better road show than a Broadway show… and it deserves better. It’s not the best show ever. But it’s a lot better than this.

Posted by poland at 02:26 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

June 29, 2007

I saw the biggest new hit to land Off-Broadway in years. Unfortunately for the show, it’s opening on Broadway next Tuesday.

Xanadu, which I bought tickets for after a half-price opportunity showed up in the e-mail and have been apologizing for since whenever answering “what are you seeing in New York?,” turns out to be (nearly) the best of all possible answers to the question, “Why the hell would anyone make a Broadway show out of one of the crappiest movies ever?”

Xanadu deserves to be on the list of Broadway adaptations of other media that actually did the job of creating something more than a pale reproduction, along with The Lion King, Wicked (which does a better job of reflecting on The Wizard of Oz than of the novel that is so much smarter than the show) and Avenue Q (which spins Sesame Street). Xanadu takes the insane camp of the film and reflects on not only the film itself but the absurdities of all kinds of cultural ideas, especially on Broadway, and offers no fewer than three show-stealing performances, which is all you can expect from any show.

The rest...

Posted by poland at 01:27 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)