Broadway’s Revival of “My Fair Lady”: I Could Have Watched This Shit All Night, Every Nightby Randi / May 31, 2018It’s Theatre Thursday! We’re talking about “Carousel” at Broadway’s Imperial Theatre.
When the current revival of “Carousel” was announced last year, everyone was beside themselves with excitement. With a cast including Jessie Mueller as Julie Jordan, Joshua Henry as Billy Bigelow, and opera diva Renee Fleming as Nettie Fowler, it ranked among the most incredible Broadway news in recent memory. Finally a phenomenal leading role for Josh Henry! Jessie Mueller never disappoints! Renee f-ing Fleming! This cast singing that wonderful, much-loved score? Hopes were insanely high all across the Broadway community, and of course such expectations could not go unfulfilled, right? I mean, this is “Carousel”, one of Rodgers and Hammerstein’s most beloved works and the musical that many (including Time Magazine in 1999) consider the best of the 20th century. Bring this shit on!, we all thought expectantly. Well, a word in that previous sentence applies to this production more than I ever could have guessed.
Despite having some pretty tough-to-fork-up material, director Jack O’Brien does just that, by presenting a lackluster, perplexing version of the musical that is somehow completely devoid of emotion. Is boredom an emotion? Devoid of most emotions. I heard a lot of the complaints on the boards that this production cut a few songs and scenes for no good reason and made some changes that die-hard fans of the musical objected to, but since I had actually never seen a full-fledged production of “Carousel” before, I figured that I wouldn’t know enough to be upset about any changes. So I went in assuming that I would adore this production. I did not. Turns out there is plenty wrong that doesn’t require intense fandom or deep knowledge of the original to recognize.
From the start, I knew someone had some ‘splaining to do. It’s forking called “Carousel” because a lot of the important action centers around one at a carnival (and life is like a merry-go-round too I guess such symbolism) and so when a Broadway production doesn’t actually have a carousel on stage – or virtually anysets at all – you’re asking for disappointment. True, the contraption that came down from the rafters – a sort of cardboard origami light fixture that expanded into a very pretty circle that acted as the suggestion of a carousel (or at least the top section of it) – was an impressive moment of stagecraft and it is a pretty lil bit of paper funtimes that would be excellent decoration in a backyard barbecue, but as the main set piece in a Broadway production it made my stomach hurt like Chidi when making a small decision. It doesn’t help that the show I saw before this was “My Fair Lady”, which has some of the most impressive and imposing set design I’ve ever seen, but seeing the barest of stages here at the Imperial was beyond dissatisfying.
The show begins with the Carousel Waltz, sort of an overture and an introduction to the setting and the story. We’re in coastal Maine in the late 1800s (the show was written in 1945), and we see Billy Bigelow exaggeratedly miming his duties as carnival barker (the “step right up!” job) as the ensemble dances for more than 10 minutes. Choreographer Justin Peck of the New York City Ballet is one of the most famous and esteemed, so in this production it’s clear that O’Brien just let him run wild with SO MUCH BALLET. If you’ve read my past reviews of musicals and ballets, you know that I always want more and more ballet in anything. Even full-on ballets sometimes haven’t had enough dancing for me. This production has too much. It’s not that it isn’t impressive; the problem is that it rarely is doing the job that dance should be doing in musicals: helping to tell the story. Instead, all the excessive ballet seems to be there just for its own sake instead of to further the story.
The first singing comes from Carrie Pipperidge, a role I know well because Audra McDonald won her first Tony for it. The Tony-nominated performer (who is likely to win it this Sunday) playing the role now, Lindsay Mendez, was out, so she must have been pretty darn sick or exhausted considering I was there two weeks before the awards, when voters are coming out in droves. Her understudy, Scarlett Walker, was very impressive, but I am disappointed to have missed probably this production’s best shot at an acting Tony. Anyway, Carrie sings to her best good friend Julie (Mueller) “You’re a Queer One, Julie Jordan” and you’re like this is how the show starts, mmkay. Julie was just yelled at by Mrs. Mullins, the mean old widow (Margaret Colin (Eleanor Waldorf from ‘Gossip Girl’ lolz)) who runs the carousel, because Julie let Billy put his arm around her when she rode the carousel. Mullins is bitter that no one’s putting his arm around her and also it’s the 1800s so I guess it was improper but it all seems a bit silly. After Carrie tells Julie how queer she is, Carrie sings about her new engagement in one of my favorite songs, “Mister Snow”, which is her fiancé’s name. At this point Julie hasn’t really sung and you’re like…is Carrie really the main female character? In this production, she really seems it. Even with an understudy on, Carrie shone much brighter than Julie and seemed to have MUCH more to do. Somehow O’Brien made Julie Jordan seem like the supporting character. That takes effort to make the leading lady seem so unimportant and inconsequential, especially when you have the usually divine Jessie Mueller playing her. But Jessie seems incredibly miscast here. The thought she always puts into her characters seems to be misleading her here (along with her director) and the performance is simply awkward.
Mueller’s unsuitability for this role is amplified like someone was shouting about it with a bullhorn when Billy comes to join the girls. Joshua Henry is a great performer and I’ve loved many of his performances. This is not one of them. Individually, Mueller and Henry are miscast, but thrown together, with all their lack of chemistry and tension and really anything, they’re a disaster. They just don’t work as a couple. I’m sure it must be an extremely big ask to turn down even one of these esteemed performers when you could have both, but that kind of decision making is required for the good of a show.
Even aside from the poor casting and zero chemistry, this production suffers from…the story of “Carousel”. It’s outdated and problematic, and it really doesn’t hold up in modern times, and instead of refocusing the story or using different direction techniques to reframe it, this production presents the old story straight. After the girls sing, Billy comes to join them and he tells off Mrs. Mullins and subsequently gets fired. He doesn’t seem to care. Carrie tells Julie that they better get home before curfew at their mill-workers quarters or whatever, but Julie wants Billy to think she’s cool, I guess, so she gets fired too. So these two miscast fools who just lost their jobs so they could stay out a little later and ‘flirt’ (talk to each other with zero emotion) tiptoe around awkwardly and sing one of the best musical theatre songs, “If I Loved You”, beautiful but with zero emotion. It’s a real shame that this song is done such a disservice by being given to this pair. Not the miscast Mueller and Henry – they sound lovely and would even if singing the phone book – but the pair of Julie and Billy. They’re revered as one of the important love stories in musical theatre, but really, they and the story of “Carousel” are a mess. A timid, clumsy girl meets an aggressive, cold man at a carnival and gives up everything because she wants him to love her. After they get fired, they…get married?! And Julie gets pregnant. Billy may claim he does eventually but he never, ever shows any sign of it, instead abusing Julie verbally and physically after they marry because he’s so sad he can’t find a job. Julie always defends his actions, understanding that it’s so hard for him to deal with the pressure of being a provider for his family. The biggest problem of all with this revival is that it doesn’t do anything to reframe their relationship in the modern day and age, and presents all these sentiments as not the products of their time, which they are, but as good enough to stand on their own with no new way of looking at it. It’s presented as fine for Julie to excuse her abuser’s actions because he can’t find a job. It’s not. In the second act, when Billy hits another female member of his family and she defends it as feeling like a kiss instead of a slap, it just lies there again. It’s weird.
If you don’t know the rest of the story, I’ll tell you real quick. After they get married and Billy yells at Julie a lot and hits her and everyone is DEPRESSED ALL THE TIME, Billy’s friend Jigger cooks up a hare-brained scheme for the two of them to rob a rich man. Oh and kill him. Billy at first says nah thanks but after he finds out he’s going to be a father and has nothing to give his kid, he decides to do it. Kids are expensive. And Jigger is super persuasive – Amar Ramasar was one of my favorite parts of this production, mostly because he is given the enormous dance solo that actually feels intentional. Amar is absolutely electric in his dancing and it was the most exhilarating scene of the entire production. Well, tied with Billy’s “Soliloquy”, when he thinks about what having a son, or a daughter, will be like. You know this song; it’s the big “My boy Bill” moment. This is where Henry absolutely shines – it’s helped by the fact that he’s alone on stage and just singing, which is what he does best. His version of this 7-minute epic song, one of the best and most challenging for men in musical theatre, is nearly flawless. He’s great here. It’s a shame that the rest of the performance doesn’t get the chance to live up to it (and given how great he is here, I do blame the director and other aspects and not Henry). His final decision, as he sings “I never knew how to make money but I’ll try! I’ll try! I’ll try! I’ll go out and make it or steal it or take it! Or die!” is riveting and you know one of those things is going to come true. Spoilers (for a 1945 show?? really?): it’s the last one. Jigger’s plan goes awry and the mark fights back long enough for cops to arrive, and instead of getting arrested or killed by cops, Billy kills himself. Julie is distraught, and Billy goes into the afterlife. He’s met by the Starkeeper, one of heaven’s administrative assistants or what not. The Starkeeper tells Billy that he has a chance to go back to earth for one day, to try to redeem himself since he has not earned enough points to get into heaven yet. Listen, Billy is an asshole. I don’t know what a mean abusive jackwagon can do in a day to redeem himself enough for entry into heaven, but I do know that what he does – give a pep talk to his now-grown daughter (time moves suuuuper fast on earth when one is off of it) – does not seem like it should be enough, especially since the tiny pep talk comes after he hits her. Yes Dream Ghost Billy goes back down to earth, watches his daughter do the famous Louise Ballet to introduce her character and her troubles, he meets his daughter, doesn’t tell her who he is obviously because she’s be like um what, but he still F-ING HITS HER, and then at her high school graduation he tells her to believe the words of “You’ll Never Walk Alone”, and that’s enough for him to get into heaven? PUH. LEASE. Also, not to beat the dead horse that is my review of this production, but the Louise Ballet was so upsetting for me. It was actually ugly. I was so disappointed. I get having the dance convey the character’s awkwardness as an outcast teenager, but there are ways to do that without having the dancing be so hideous and disjointed and just unenjoyable. At least it was overly long too.
So yeah, while the score is gorgeous and well sung, the book of “Carousel” is not something that such weak directing and producing can help with when revived today. Fortunately, there are enough highlights in this production to make watching the show bearable and often enjoyable, even through my exasperation. As I said, Ramasar’s Jigger is a highlight, as is Henry’s outstanding “Soliloquy”, even if the rest of his performance left me freezing cold. Carrie Pipperidge and Enoch Snow (our understudy Scarlett Walker and the always great Alexander Gemignani) seem like the main characters because they are the only energetic, charming people on that stage (well, at least until Snow achieves his desired level of success and lets it go straight to his head). And our Nettie Fowler is a consistent bright spot on this bare stage, as Renee Fleming is doing a bangup job in her first Broadway musical role, and seems to be carrying the entire show and company in her warm, loving arms. Her “You’ll Never Walk Alone” is as gorgeous as you’d expect, and although she didn’t say anything about the hucka the bejeepers, her “June is Busting Out All Over” was a joyous romp. She even made the weird song “That was a Real Nice Clambake” (real song title) enjoyable. So yeah, there is a lot wrong with this production, and it’s disappointing that we weren’t given a revival for the ages like we are with the current “My Fair Lady”, especially since it will be a while now before we’ll get another one. But there are some good things about this production (thank god), so it’s not a total loss.
INFORMATION
The front row of the rear mezzanine has a big barricade tight
at your knees with a heavy curtain hanging down it, so you can’t just jump up
and go like I thought you could when I bought the seat. If you are limber, you
are able to slither through the bars and through the curtain’s onto the floor
below like I did instead of waiting for my row to get up because IDGAF what
anyone else thinks (they thought I was bananas though for sure).
Run time is about 2 hours and 40 minutes.
STAGE DOOR
The ensemble comes out pretty quickly and everyone is very
friendly (except Eleanor Waldorf, actually, who was kind of a b word to me).
Renee Fleming actually took selfies which was amazing and she was absolutely
lovely. I called it after an hour waiting for Henry and Mueller, the longest
I’ve ever waited, but I could not defend wasting any more time waiting for
them. I mean I was going to lie to them anyway, so it’s for the best.
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The Inheritance Part 1: A Provocative, Poignant Epic for Modern Times
It’s Theatre Thursday! Today’s show is The Inheritance, Part 1, which has transferred from the Young Vic to the West End’s Noel Coward Theatre, playing there until January 19.
I have put off seeing The Inheritance for actual years now. It’s not that I didn’t want to see it, but Matthew Lopez’s two-part, sweeping look at today’s culture of gay men, and how they grapple with their position in life compared to the generation that came before them and paved the way, is…long. It’s really long. And it’s in two parts, so you have to go back to the theatre another night to finish the story. And I got things to do! So I put it off. If I’m going to sit through two plays at nearly four hours each, I said to myself, about gay men and AIDs and stuff, I’m going to see Angels in America. (It might sound pretty narrow-minded to compare to the two works, like ‘oh they’re both about gay men so you’re going to compare them, you bigot’ but please, tell me of another eight-hour play in two parts, I’ll wait.) Also, the hype was ludicrous. I assumed there was no way this is ‘the best play of the year, and of next year too, probably’, to quote a mainstream critic (one of those). But I finally decided to bite the bullet and start this epic journey into hours and hours of theatre, and you know what? It’s probably the best play of the year, and of next year too.
I have put off seeing The Inheritance for actual years now. It’s not that I didn’t want to see it, but Matthew Lopez’s two-part, sweeping look at today’s culture of gay men, and how they grapple with their position in life compared to the generation that came before them and paved the way, is…long. It’s really long. And it’s in two parts, so you have to go back to the theatre another night to finish the story. And I got things to do! So I put it off. If I’m going to sit through two plays at nearly four hours each, I said to myself, about gay men and AIDs and stuff, I’m going to see Angels in America. (It might sound pretty narrow-minded to compare to the two works, like ‘oh they’re both about gay men so you’re going to compare them, you bigot’ but please, tell me of another eight-hour play in two parts, I’ll wait.) Also, the hype was ludicrous. I assumed there was no way this is ‘the best play of the year, and of next year too, probably’, to quote a mainstream critic (one of those). But I finally decided to bite the bullet and start this epic journey into hours and hours of theatre, and you know what? It’s probably the best play of the year, and of next year too.
Granted, I have only seen Part 1 so far. You can see both parts in one day if you want, but ain’t nobody got time for that. (Or energy. How do the actors do it? are they spidermen?) I’m really glad I scheduled this extra time in between so I can sit with and think about Part 1 and give it the due it deserves. As a standalone play, Part 1 was sensational, and I’m honestly wowed. I really can’t believe that I would be willing to see it again. For the first time in my life, I bought the script of the play instead of the programme. It’s that good. I made a sort-of joke about Angels in America above, but The Inheritance is truly the clear successor to Angels, not just because they are about the same demographic, but – and gird your loins, people who hate tautologies – because it is a successor to Angels. That’s what it’s about – what gay men living today have inherited from the generation before and what they have to do to honor their memory and their sacrifice. So REALLY, it’s like a four-part 16 hour play. Just kidding. But it’s important to know where gay men of the previous generation have been in order to understand what these gay men of our generation are thinking about when they think about honoring those who came before them. Both plays bear crucial witness to the gay culture of their time.
The idea of honoring the past without getting trapped by it runs through all the multiple layers and character arcs in this play. Not only are there so many vibrant layers to the story that all seem compelling in their own right, there’s also an homage to the novel Howards End woven into the frame of the show. It begins with a group of male writing students bouncing ideas off of each other, guided by their teacher Morgan, a representation of Howards End author E.M. Forster (the M was for Morgan), who hid his homosexuality from the public (his famous works about homosexual themes were published after his death). Morgan and the students brainstorm ways to start the story, eventually focusing on one student’s idea and snowballing. As an opening gimmick, this kind of annoyed me at first, but it really does pay off. We delve into the story and just when you forget that it’s anything but real, it returns to Morgan leading the writing process.
The story being written tells of Eric Glass (Kyle Soller, wonderful) and Toby Darling (Andrew Burnap, my choice for a supporting actor Olivier), a gay couple living in New York in Eric’s Holocaust-surviving grandparents’ great apartment. If you take that central idea and think of it like a small glass sphere, the play is like taking a hammer to that glass and watching all the thousands of shards shower away from it. There is so much happening and it all is part of the same whole, all kinds of side stories you think maybe should have been cut for time, until you realize they are all necessary to add to this realistic, vivid world they’re creating onstage. Eric is an actually decent guy, the kind you root for even without knowing him too well. He’s a better person than he believes himself to be, a sensitive, thoughtful soul. Toby is vivacious, hilarious, and altogether Too Much. He’s written a well-known book that is getting transformed into a Broadway play, because his head needs to get bigger. A chance meeting with a younger gay man, Adam (Samuel Levine, responsible for the ‘male nudity’ warning), throws a wrench into Eric and Toby’s happy life together, especially when Adam is cast in Toby’s play.
While Adam and Toby workshop the play out of town, Eric befriends Walter, an older gay man who was previously an acquaintance but becomes one of the most important people in Eric’s life. Walter lived through the ‘80s AIDs epidemic and tells Eric, in probably the longest (and most moving) monologue in theatre history, what it was like. And not just ‘what it was like’ like ‘oh, it was awful,’ but opening up and really showing the history to Eric like it’s a tangible thing you can hold and show someone. In a brilliant move, Walter is played by the same actor as Morgan (Paul Hilton), guiding the young men and helping them as much as he can. At the end of Act 1, Walter explains to Eric that his partner, the billionaire Henry Wilcox (John Benjamin Hickey, one of my faves), wanted to run away from the city during the epidemic and ignore it, along with their friends. But Walter in his kindness and empathy couldn’t, and so while Henry traveled, Walter opened up their country house to let their friends, and friends of friends and whoever needed to, have a serene place to die.
Walter’s friendship, guidance, and memories clearly make Eric even more thoughtful and considerate of (to quote another of this year’s ‘best of’(TV Edition)) what we owe to each other, and what we owe to the past and to the future. The inheritance of the title is that recognition of the importance of memory and respect in the culture. In a whole new layer to the story, it also refers to a Howards-End inspired deathbed bequeathment of important property that, like in its source material, gets infuriatingly disregarded. And as part of that property, it refers to the responsibility that these young gay men have inherited from the previous generation, the responsibility that every demographic or culture or race owes to their forebears: to recognize their struggles and understand what they went through so that you can live the life you’re living and make things better for the next group.
I know, it sounds like a lot of heavy material. And it is, and you’ll forking SOB, especially at the final scene of Part 1. Or, if you’re like me, you’ll save your hardest cries for what’s supposed to be a kind of funny moment – Eric’s friends’ 2016 Election Returns Watch Party (sigh (too real)). But you also laugh a whole lot, especially at Toby’s lines and his incredible physicality. It’s like he’s dancing through his character’s lines while fully becoming him and it is incredible. The ensemble is wonderful, and even though most have not much to say in Part 1, the cast remains onstage the entire time. Stephen Daldry’s direction has truly never been cleverer or sharper. It’s his best work yet. There is absolutely no set, other than a raised platform in the middle. No painted backdrops, no nothing. There are barely any props (save for the frequent wine glasses, the odd chair, the Hillary balloon). Yet the stage pulsates with life. The ensemble sits around the platform and watches the action, sometimes chiming in with suggestions to the author (reminding you of the framing device, which I still don’t know how I feel about). Most importantly, the ensemble moves with the story in a way I have never seen before. When you react internally to a line reading, the ensemble will react physically in a way that makes complete sense. They seem to be constantly moving but not in a distracting way, rather in a totally natural, necessary way that adds to the import of every scene. It’s like a reminder of something, maybe that your actions affect lives around you, or that you’re never alone.
Going into Part 2, I’m eager to see more of John Benjamin Hickey’s Wilcox, who was only in Part 1 for a portion of the time, and of course I’m excited for the ‘cameo’ by Vanessa Redgrave. But even more than seeing these stars, I can’t wait to get back into this world. I’m honestly still shook by the story and anxious about where things left off. This play felt like a long book that becomes important to you as you read along, the kind where you feel it in your soul and worry about the story and the characters for life, even though you know it’s not real. That the Inheritance Part 1 accomplished that is a testament to the genius of Matthew Lopez, as well as the pitch-perfect direction and the great acting that brought me fully into their world.
INFORMATION
The Inheritance ends its run at the Noel Coward Theatre on January 19 so hurry, or wait to see it on Broadway because it is definitely going.
Tickets are pretty easy to get, especially using TodayTix (which runs their rush ticket system). I got a £15 ticket (talk about value for money) in the Royal Circle, fifth row in and on the right side of center, and it was a perfect view. Too far to the extreme sides will be okay but a little restricted. The audience was pretty good, but actually the staff was awful. I could hear them talking in the lobby really loudly, proving my opinion that Delfont Mackintosh theatres and staff have to undergo a whole rehaul.
The idea of honoring the past without getting trapped by it runs through all the multiple layers and character arcs in this play. Not only are there so many vibrant layers to the story that all seem compelling in their own right, there’s also an homage to the novel Howards End woven into the frame of the show. It begins with a group of male writing students bouncing ideas off of each other, guided by their teacher Morgan, a representation of Howards End author E.M. Forster (the M was for Morgan), who hid his homosexuality from the public (his famous works about homosexual themes were published after his death). Morgan and the students brainstorm ways to start the story, eventually focusing on one student’s idea and snowballing. As an opening gimmick, this kind of annoyed me at first, but it really does pay off. We delve into the story and just when you forget that it’s anything but real, it returns to Morgan leading the writing process.
The story being written tells of Eric Glass (Kyle Soller, wonderful) and Toby Darling (Andrew Burnap, my choice for a supporting actor Olivier), a gay couple living in New York in Eric’s Holocaust-surviving grandparents’ great apartment. If you take that central idea and think of it like a small glass sphere, the play is like taking a hammer to that glass and watching all the thousands of shards shower away from it. There is so much happening and it all is part of the same whole, all kinds of side stories you think maybe should have been cut for time, until you realize they are all necessary to add to this realistic, vivid world they’re creating onstage. Eric is an actually decent guy, the kind you root for even without knowing him too well. He’s a better person than he believes himself to be, a sensitive, thoughtful soul. Toby is vivacious, hilarious, and altogether Too Much. He’s written a well-known book that is getting transformed into a Broadway play, because his head needs to get bigger. A chance meeting with a younger gay man, Adam (Samuel Levine, responsible for the ‘male nudity’ warning), throws a wrench into Eric and Toby’s happy life together, especially when Adam is cast in Toby’s play.
While Adam and Toby workshop the play out of town, Eric befriends Walter, an older gay man who was previously an acquaintance but becomes one of the most important people in Eric’s life. Walter lived through the ‘80s AIDs epidemic and tells Eric, in probably the longest (and most moving) monologue in theatre history, what it was like. And not just ‘what it was like’ like ‘oh, it was awful,’ but opening up and really showing the history to Eric like it’s a tangible thing you can hold and show someone. In a brilliant move, Walter is played by the same actor as Morgan (Paul Hilton), guiding the young men and helping them as much as he can. At the end of Act 1, Walter explains to Eric that his partner, the billionaire Henry Wilcox (John Benjamin Hickey, one of my faves), wanted to run away from the city during the epidemic and ignore it, along with their friends. But Walter in his kindness and empathy couldn’t, and so while Henry traveled, Walter opened up their country house to let their friends, and friends of friends and whoever needed to, have a serene place to die.
Walter’s friendship, guidance, and memories clearly make Eric even more thoughtful and considerate of (to quote another of this year’s ‘best of’(TV Edition)) what we owe to each other, and what we owe to the past and to the future. The inheritance of the title is that recognition of the importance of memory and respect in the culture. In a whole new layer to the story, it also refers to a Howards-End inspired deathbed bequeathment of important property that, like in its source material, gets infuriatingly disregarded. And as part of that property, it refers to the responsibility that these young gay men have inherited from the previous generation, the responsibility that every demographic or culture or race owes to their forebears: to recognize their struggles and understand what they went through so that you can live the life you’re living and make things better for the next group.
I know, it sounds like a lot of heavy material. And it is, and you’ll forking SOB, especially at the final scene of Part 1. Or, if you’re like me, you’ll save your hardest cries for what’s supposed to be a kind of funny moment – Eric’s friends’ 2016 Election Returns Watch Party (sigh (too real)). But you also laugh a whole lot, especially at Toby’s lines and his incredible physicality. It’s like he’s dancing through his character’s lines while fully becoming him and it is incredible. The ensemble is wonderful, and even though most have not much to say in Part 1, the cast remains onstage the entire time. Stephen Daldry’s direction has truly never been cleverer or sharper. It’s his best work yet. There is absolutely no set, other than a raised platform in the middle. No painted backdrops, no nothing. There are barely any props (save for the frequent wine glasses, the odd chair, the Hillary balloon). Yet the stage pulsates with life. The ensemble sits around the platform and watches the action, sometimes chiming in with suggestions to the author (reminding you of the framing device, which I still don’t know how I feel about). Most importantly, the ensemble moves with the story in a way I have never seen before. When you react internally to a line reading, the ensemble will react physically in a way that makes complete sense. They seem to be constantly moving but not in a distracting way, rather in a totally natural, necessary way that adds to the import of every scene. It’s like a reminder of something, maybe that your actions affect lives around you, or that you’re never alone.
Going into Part 2, I’m eager to see more of John Benjamin Hickey’s Wilcox, who was only in Part 1 for a portion of the time, and of course I’m excited for the ‘cameo’ by Vanessa Redgrave. But even more than seeing these stars, I can’t wait to get back into this world. I’m honestly still shook by the story and anxious about where things left off. This play felt like a long book that becomes important to you as you read along, the kind where you feel it in your soul and worry about the story and the characters for life, even though you know it’s not real. That the Inheritance Part 1 accomplished that is a testament to the genius of Matthew Lopez, as well as the pitch-perfect direction and the great acting that brought me fully into their world.
INFORMATION
The Inheritance ends its run at the Noel Coward Theatre on January 19 so hurry, or wait to see it on Broadway because it is definitely going.
Tickets are pretty easy to get, especially using TodayTix (which runs their rush ticket system). I got a £15 ticket (talk about value for money) in the Royal Circle, fifth row in and on the right side of center, and it was a perfect view. Too far to the extreme sides will be okay but a little restricted. The audience was pretty good, but actually the staff was awful. I could hear them talking in the lobby really loudly, proving my opinion that Delfont Mackintosh theatres and staff have to undergo a whole rehaul.
“Pippin” at London’s Southwark Playhouse: Solid Production of a True Favorite
It’s Theatre Thursday! Today we’re talking “Pippin”, at the Southwark Playhouse in London until Saturday.
“Pippin” is one of my best known, and best loved, shows. It lends itself so well to grandiose ridiculous spectacle, like in the most recent Broadway production, while still having a beating heart, an eternally provocative book, and one of the best all-around scores in musical theatre. So I was intrigued to see what a little almost-black-box of a theatre like Southwark Playhouse could do with the material. It’s been a long time since I saw a production of Pips that wasn’t full-out Cirque du Soleil treats – in fact, the last time was in high school, when I was indeed in a non-circus non-world-class-acrobat version. I couldn’t help but wonder (just a little call out to Miranda running for governor treats!), how strong are the bones of the show? Will it still produce the thrills and astonishment I remember even without all the flying through the air with the greatest of ease? And the answer is, those bones must have read The China Study and learned about how milk really isn’t the answer to osteoporosis and instead they’re eating vegetables and doing resistance training because hell yes, they are strong.
Not that I’m surprised, because it’s such a great show. But it really does lend itself so well to spectacle, so it’s nice to remember that even without mind-blowing choreography and amazement, it’s still solid and enjoyable. Losing the circus tent of Broadway and all the splendor and magic that came inside of it was a bit of a let-down, I’ll be honest, because that production featured some of the most insane stuff I’ve ever seen humans do, and that augmented the show rather than overwhelm it, so naturally I’m gonna prefer that version all other things being equal. But seeing the bare bones of ‘Pippin’ was a great opportunity to revisit what makes it so special, and to remember that it is so special as is. And that even with an average cast, the music shines and the story resonates.
That story is the really not historical tale of Pippin, the son of King Charlemagne, and his coming of age as he tries to figure out what to do with his life in order to find fulfillment. He’s your typical young white male character, having literally all the resources and opportunities in the world open to him but feeling discontented and unsatisfied with this or that. He tries this or that, to continued exasperating dissatisfaction, because he believes himself to be destined for something extraordinary. I mean wow did they nail today’s white male youth or what. So Pippin’s story is told by a traveling troupe of performers, led by the Leading Player, and this performance that we are seeing is the very first with this particular actor playing Pippin. So every now and then we’ll get him doing something different from usual or a different ensemblist messing up, requiring the Leading Player to say something to remind us of that show-within-a-show frame. This is important, because the actor playing Pippin is having the same existential crisis as his character, and he’s subject to the same delusions of grandeur that Pippin is.
That story is the really not historical tale of Pippin, the son of King Charlemagne, and his coming of age as he tries to figure out what to do with his life in order to find fulfillment. He’s your typical young white male character, having literally all the resources and opportunities in the world open to him but feeling discontented and unsatisfied with this or that. He tries this or that, to continued exasperating dissatisfaction, because he believes himself to be destined for something extraordinary. I mean wow did they nail today’s white male youth or what. So Pippin’s story is told by a traveling troupe of performers, led by the Leading Player, and this performance that we are seeing is the very first with this particular actor playing Pippin. So every now and then we’ll get him doing something different from usual or a different ensemblist messing up, requiring the Leading Player to say something to remind us of that show-within-a-show frame. This is important, because the actor playing Pippin is having the same existential crisis as his character, and he’s subject to the same delusions of grandeur that Pippin is.
The Southwark Playhouse always does stellar work, in such a tiny space with pretty much nothing in terms of resources or special effects, or sets, really, so it’s entirely up to the cast and creatives to make magic. I was prepared to be blown away as I usually am here, with this theatre, effectively Off West-End, doing work that often is stronger than the proper West End shows (especially right now, when the favorite British musical winning over unsound audiences is, well, you know I don’t want to talk about that anymore). And while this was the most enjoyable musical I’ve seen in London in 2018 so far, it was heavily due to the material and not really this production in particular. The production was solid, don’t get me wrong, but not as great as I expected. And a few things rubbed me the wrong way. Like, the cast is entirely white, except maybe one ensemblist who might not be. I’m sorry to be making generalizations about her race but I’m trying to give them the benefit of the doubt that this show isn’t 100% white despite being performed in one of the most diverse cities in the entire freaking world, and even so it’s still a real let-down in terms of diversity. It’s weird, it’s obvious, and it’s just not right.
That whiteness means that the Leading Player, the lead role, is played by a white lady, which is JUST WEIRD. Now that was okay to do in my high school because my little suburb barely had Asian kids in drama club let alone black kids, but (Joey’s voice) in LONDON? The Leading Player is historically black, originated by the legendary Ben Vereen and then in the revival by the great Patina Miller, and a white lady just made it I don’t know, it made it like school. She was kind of a school marm. Genevive Nicole, talented as she is, was simply completely miscast, and only in part due to her race. She didn’t have the terrifying, exciting, mysterious, sexual, electrifying qualities that the Leading Player needs. And because her casting fell way short, for the first time, it really seemed like Pippin’s show. Despite being the title role, Pippin has always played second fiddle to the spell-binding Leading Player, whose actors have started illustrious careers on the magic they made in this incredibly meaty role. No matter how great Matthew James Thomas was in the 2013 revival – and he was REALLY great – it was still Patina’s show. I wasn’t lucky enough to see Ben Vereen in the original production, but come on, it’s freaking Ben Vereen. I think we can agree that he made the show. And that’s how it always is – the Leading Player lives up to the name, and Pippin is right up there with her but a little less extraordinarily, which is ironic because of the song he sings. But here, because the LP was weak and the actor playing Pippin (Jonathan Carlton) was actually the strongest one in the cast, the usual dynamic was flipped on its head and it became truly Pippin’s show. I was riveted more than usual in his plight and his growth as a character. The beauty of his songs stood out more. Meanwhile, the Leading Player became like a side character to me, just another of the ensemble except with more lines. She vanished completely into the shadows for me, and not in the good way that you expect the LP to be living in the shadows. It was incredibly interesting to witness this change, unintentional as I’m sure it was.
I was also surprised at the decision to have one actress (Mairi Barclary) play both Berthe and Fastrada. Pippin’s hilarious grandmother Berthe usually steals the show with her comedic bit, while Pippin’s conniving step-mother usually has a thankless song unless performed and directed perfectly. It makes some sense to double up on the roles, when you have a small cast, since they each have one big number and that’s pretty much it. But focusing on such different characters meant that a little was sacrificed from both. While a talented performer, Mairi made weird choices that didn’t work for me. Her Berthe got off easy, because the audience will eat up everything that character throws at you and be sublimely happy doing so, so that’s a hard one to mess up. Kind of like Charles/Charlemagne, it’s written to be adored and hysterical. It was just a little too goofy for me; when all the humor you need is written into the part there’s little need for bared teeth gags. But Fastrada was a mess. Her “Spread a Little Sunshine” is really hard to get anything out of, and it’s thankless unless she makes it obvious that she’s lying about spreading happiness and joy because her main goal is shrewd manipulation. None of that came across here, mainly because the actress was doing a heavy Scottish accent. And I mean heavy. Like worse than Mike Myers in “So I Married an Axe Murderer” when he plays his own grandfather and shouts “HEEEAD. MOVE. NOW!” It made no sense for the woman who is supposed to be gorgeous and sexy, so much so that the king is blinded to her scheming, to instead be kind of vulgar, calling herself a ‘hoosewife’ and letting the heavy accent get in the way of her subtle lines. I mean the whole “I’m just an ordinary housewife and mother, just like all your ordinary housewives and mothers out there” line is only funny because Fastrada clearly isn’t ordinary, and for damn sure isn’t a housewife. But here, yeah for sure she was just a dowdy housewife…so…. It didn’t work at all.
I did enjoy our Charles/Charlemagne, Rhidian Marc, who did a fine job. Like Berthe, that part is written to win over audiences with almost no effort, so any effort the actor puts in just makes it all the better. I particularly enjoyed his famous line, given in a little confidential bit to the audience after his wife asks for more money, when he says “You know, sometimes I wonder if all the fornicating I’m getting is worth all the fornicating I’m getting.” The audience dies every time, for good reason, but this time I was also crying laughing because I remember – someone from high school correct me if I’m wrong but I remember – that our HS production did NOT cut that line. Is that possible?!
Faring pretty well was Tessa Kadler as Catherine, more commonly the thankless role in “Pippin” unless you have someone who knows what they’re doing, and then it can be absolutely sublime. I never knew that Catherine could be the funniest and fullest role in the show until I saw Rachel Bay Jones in the Broadway revival, when she completely reinvented the role and all future interpretations were challenged to keep up. Unfortunately, few can really keep up with her, and even fewer have the comedic brilliance that’s required to make Catherine more than a well-meaning, pretty love interest. I could honestly talk about RBJ’s genius in that truly virtuosic performance for days on end. Needless to say, she ruined me for future performances that fail to mine the lines for all the brilliance they could possess. Tessa’s Catherine fared better than most, and she has a beautiful voice, but none of the nuance was there to make Catherine special. More importantly, it was not clear at all that the actors playing Catherine and Pippin in the show-within-the-show were falling in love, not at all. My husband, seeing “Pippin” for the first time, asked afterwards “wait why would she have left with him?” There was no reason for her to have joined Pippin at the end, at least as far as we saw.
And that ending is always so tricky to get right, because it is so unbelievably dark and sinister. The chorus sounded great on the Finale number, and it was creepy as hell as they tried to get Pippin to take part in the one final act that will make him extraordinary. It’s always fascinating to see how this comes across. Sometimes, the ending tells you that despite the grandest of dreams, a person will only be truly happy living an ordinary life that has real meaning instead of larger-scale meaning. Sometimes, it’s that you can’t expect too much of yourself or your life, and that doing so will probably have the opposite consequences than you intend, and sometimes it’s that you can’t give in to the basest desires that flood your subconscious. And sometimes you think um this is coming across as extra-pro suicide. Here, it definitely felt more along the lines of Pippin having to quiet the visions, the fantasies he always had that told him he was so special and so needed to do something obviously special. He needed to learn to ignore the dark places in his imagination and be content with a normal life, and only then, when he stopped expecting so much of himself, could he be happy. Overall, it worked, although again there was no foundation for having Catherine help ground him. It still was moving as ever, and because of the black box situation, I REALLY hoped we would get the original ending – when Pippin and Catherine just stand there in the dark in their underwear talking to each other, and it ends so abruptly and the audience is like, wait whatttttt? That can’t be the end?? That’s the ending we did in high school and it still makes me laugh so hard to imagine what on earth those poor audiences were thinking. But more recent shows have added a truly remarkable ending, in which the little boy playing Theo starts singing “Corner of the Sky”, and the Leading Player and the troupe come back in to encircle him, having found a new potential Pippin to finish their finale for them. It’s FREAKING DARK, and it works so well because it ends on music but still has the incredibly disturbing troubling mood. BUT, I think it really only works well when it’s a child playing Theo. Here it was just one of the regular ensemble members, adult-sized, playing Theo, so it didn’t pack the normal punch that that ending is good for. Also, when the players remove all the ‘theatre magic’ in a black box theatre, well there’s not much to differentiate it when they come back. There are no sets to begin with, so they kind of just made the lights dimmer. It didn’t work as well. It is the better ending though, so whatever it’s fine, but I just wanted to be able to witness an audience deal with the dissatisfaction of the original ending.
Overall, it was a well done production and definitely worth seeing, if it left me wanting to see a full mounted production again soon. And mostly, it reminded me of how great “Pippin” is, when even down to its bare bones, as here, it’s still enjoyable and poignant.
AUDIENCE
The audience was fine! Huzzah! It helps to be almost in the round in a small room, so everyone knows I’m watching them.
