Who said there isn’t any diversity on Broadway?
Here’s a down and-dirty re-cap of a few shows I failed to
review earlier this year.
Bridges of Madison County
Schoenfeld Theatre
Tuesday, January 21, 8PM
The movie version is a guilty pleasure of mine, having bonded
with my now sister-in-law, Val, while watching a rerun on TV and weeping uncontrollably
as we watched Meryl agonizingly clutch the door handle of her truck while both
of us screamed at the TV, “Go! Go with Clint!”
Perhaps it was our youthful idealism (or I’m now just a
jaded, old bitch), but seeing the same scenario play out onstage nearly two
decades later, Francesca’s choice doesn’t seem all that complicated to me. Stay
with your loving husband (yeah, he’s boring, but you chose him) and children,
or drop everything for the hunky drifter you’ve known for all of four days.
I know, it’s a romance and Steven Pasquale, I mean Robert,
is super tasty, but in this case the pragmatist in me over-rides my hormones. Maybe
that’s why I don’t quite buy the “soul mate” argument in this case.
That’s not to say I didn’t enjoy Bridges (the musical). The
score is gorgeous, and filled with JRB’s trademark soaring folk-pop ballads
along with some more – dare I say – sophisticated writing for Kelli O’Hara’s
lovely legit soprano. Sadly, I think her wonderful performance might get passed
over once again at this year’s Tonys for bigger names and showier roles –
always the bridesmaid. Oh well, at least she doesn’t have to compete against
Audra.
Steven Pasquale is the reason the wife-beater t-shirt was
invented. What a voice. And did I mention he’s hot?
My main quibble is with the show’s structure. Opening up the
story gives too much time to secondary characters. I wanted to stay with Robert
and Francesca. Their attraction is obviously sexual at first. But when/how does
it become emotional? What’s Robert’s story (other than having an ex that left
him a guitar that he can’t play)? They have sex and all of a sudden they’re in
love and want to run away together? There are just so many details of their
relationship I wanted to explore, but instead we get a random chorus member clogging
at the state fair.
Kung Fu
Signature Theatre
Tuesday, February 18, 7:30PM
Bruce Lee’s story is fascinating and definitely worth
telling, but this play suffers from multiple personal disorder. It’s sometimes a
by-the-numbers biopic, sometimes a campy homage to Lee, and sometimes a visually
stunning father-son dance fantasy.
That said, Sonia Tayeh (one of my favorite SYTYCD choreographers)
is a goddess. Her choreography and movement (along with fight director,
Emmanuel Brown) are the real stars of Kung Fu. Any time the piece moves –
that includes the intricately choreographed set changes – I was engaged. The book
scenes seemed like filler to get us to the next production number.
The cast, too, is uniformly excellent with Cole Horibe, a
SYTYCD finalist with no previous acting credits, giving a respectable NYC stage debut. Though his thick, cartoonish accent – which I guess the real Bruce Lee
may very well have possessed – often took me out of the moment. What he lacks in
subtlety, he more than makes up for with his dancing, martial arts expertise
and six pack.
Heathers
New World Stages
Sunday, March 30, 7:30PM
Heathers is maybe the gayest thing to hit NYC theatre in years.
It’s a camp musical based on a camp film full of campy performances and campy
catch phrases featuring shirtless young studs. Bring on the gays! I’ll also
wager the producers hope to snag nostalgia driven forty-somethings (like me) longing
to feel cool and relevant. Though the homo sub-plot, snicker-inducing at the
time the movie was originally released, now seems positively quaint.
Heathers is a tad darker than the same songwriting team’s last
stage effort, Broadway’s Legally Blond, but it covers similar ground. I was actually hoping the satire
would be darker, more on the level of their earliest commercial work, Bat Boy.
Oh well, at least we get a fun evening filled with the zinging one-liners that made
the movie an instant classic. I mean, has any movie graced the English lexicon
with a more memorable exclamation than “fuck me gently with a chainsaw”?
Methinks not.
The score is efficient and pleasant enough, with the
obligatory high belting to signify emotion. Not that there’s anything wrong
with that. It’s just so, well, obvious. That said, I found “Blue,” sung by Kurt
and Ram about a certain condition of the male genitalia, hilarious. Yes, my
sense of humor is about on the level of a 10-year-old. And I’m sure the bullied
Martha’s moving 11-o-clock number, “Kindergarten,” will be so overdone at
auditions and cabarets over the next year that I’ll grow to hate it.
The cast is young and pretty and sing beautifully and
loudly.
The unit set looks like the interior of a space ship from a
bad 70s sci-fi movie (except in violet and pink hues) and at no time even
remotely suggests any of the settings within the show.
The direction was adequate but pedestrian – basically moving
traffic on an off the stage.
As a whole, the show felt like a Broadway musical banished
to an off-Broadway house. The material and story cried out for a bigger venue
and large cast.
At the performance I attended, the audience was peppered
with annoying superfans that squealed and screamed at every familiar line or
scene.
But did I enjoy myself? Yes.
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