Indecent at the Menier: A Glorious and Wrenching Jewish Triumphby Randi / September 21, 2021Anything ANYthing ANYTHING GOOOOES at the Barbican is Pure Silly Joy
In 2011, the absolute ledge Sutton Foster gave us the definitive Reno Sweeney in the definitive production of Anything Goes, directed and choreographed by Kathleen Marshall in a way that warned anyone who tried to do it differently in the future to buzz off, Bambadjan. Heeding that warning, I imagine this is what happened to get this production back in action: the peeps at the Barbican were like ‘we want a new production of Anything Goes!’ and everyone was like ‘you can’t beat the 2011 Broadway revival!’ and the Barbican was like ‘so let’s just do that one!’ and everyone was like ‘ok cool but it really needs Sutton Foster too’ and Barbs was like ‘ok let’s get her!’ and everyone was like ‘can she still do it it’s been 10 years’ and Barbs was like ‘let’s ask’ and Sutton and the rest of the conscious world was like ‘of course she can still do it and probably better than ever she’s Sutton Foster for chrissakes!’ and I was like OH MY GOOD GOD I GET TO SEE MY FAVORITE THING AGAIN!!!!!!!!!! /end scene. (Yes I know it was originally supposed to be Megan Mullally and Sutton came in last minute but Megan would have been more of a Patti LuPone Reno and we cannot go back to those tapless days.)
Now I realize if you search ‘this is my favorite thing!’ in the search box at the top of this site, almost every single post of the thousands I’ve written will come up (barring everything from Mongolia and Mamet) but this is truly one of my faves. By ‘this’ of course I mean Marshall’s incredible, jaw-droppingly amazing 10-minute tap extravaganza of the title song that ends Act I. Me and Jonathan Groff are literally the same person (not literally (or figuratively (we just have this in common) and our love of Lin)) because we were both so obsessed with this number that we learned the whole darn thing, step-by-step, day-by-day, hilarious-Sutton-inflection-by-hilarious-Sutton-inflection.
Literally all of this is chiselled in my mind grapes forever. Okay so I can’t actually DO it, mind you, but I KNOW it, okay.
No matter what the rest of the show is, no matter who the rest of this London cast was going to be, I was in. I was going to see Sutton do this again. I remember every time I saw it on Broadway sitting in shocked excited silence as the curtain came down at intermission, which you KNOW is huge because you know I had to pee. So even though it is still a pandemic, which no one at the Barbican seems to realize, I was going to double mask and double down on seeing my favorite tap number of all time.
Even if the rest of the show was garbage and the rest of the cast was weak, it would still be worth it because that number is just as strong as ever. But fortunately the rest of the show is just as good (mostly) and the rest of the cast is wonderful (mostly).
Before we saw this production, husbo asked me what Anything Goes was about, and even though I know it so well, I really didn’t know how to answer besides to say it’s a lot of silly fun and lots of tapping and that’s all that matters.’ And he was like ‘come on’ and I was like ‘okay it’s like a cruise ship and there’s all these characters like gangsters and fake priests and rich old ladies and a boring debutante and Yale men and Richard you’re a Yale man and your father was a Yale man well we want Rory to be whatever kind of man she wants..I’ve gotten off track.’
The Barbican production was funnier than I remember, truly. ‘Anything Goes’ is a classic Cole Porter romp in which Sutton Foster is a famous New York singer (true!) who loves men, and loves-ish one in particular, her good friend who for some reason doesn’t want to marry her (not believable!) but wants instead to marry the most boring drip of a socialite girl named Hope (also not believable! men hate boring!) who is engaged to a rich British man who seems boring but actually isn’t, but Hope and her mom need his money so they aren’t ruined. So there’s like a sort of love triangle in there among the endless comic antics, but it doesn’t truly matter because you’re just laughing the whole time (except when Hope sings). The physical comedy of this production is endlessly hysterical, and the hundo p Porteresque double entendres and asides and references squeezed into every inch of the show are hilarious (and risque!!) as ever. And no matter how often you see this show, you are still (well I am) surprised at just how many classic Porter songs it features. Of course the title song, and the close second-best number ‘Blow Gabriel Blow’, but also “I Get a Kick Out of You’, ‘Delovely’ (I always forget Delovely!), ‘You’re the Top’, so many! At the Barbican, I found ‘You’re the Top’ even funnier and more enjoyable than ever, poss/prob because Sutton has become so much more comfortable and can mine all the humor possible. Her jovial Billy Crocker, Samuel Edwards, was a great match for her and the two were having an obvious blast with the endless Dad joke lyrics of this song. I love this song because I can never remember any of the actual lyrics. When I sing it it’s like, “You’re the Rockford Peaches, that kid from Beaches…you’re cellophane” or “There’s something startin’/It’s John McMartin…you’re cellophane.” That cellophane lyric really sticks. I don’t like that Sutton still has the harmony on the final line because her voice cuts through EVERYTHING so you mainly hear her kind of weird harmony sounding like the leading vocal instead of the melody line but WHO CARES.
Although the 2011 cast (I will never stop regaling this perfect production, sorry) was definitive (that’s the word of the day/show) cannot be beat — you had muhfucking Joel Grey, Jessica Walter (RIPYAL), Colin Donnell, John McMartin (it wasn’t just random before!), Adam Godley, all absolute perfection — this cast was very enjoyable. It’s not definitive in every single way like the prevs were because that’s not possible, but the all did a fine job. I think the show’s pacing would be improved by cutting the gd blue bird song in Act II – if you don’t have Joel Grey doing it there’s no reason to suffer through it (even with Joel it was a stretch!). Haydn Oakley as Lord Oakleigh (omg is that why they hired him??) was good fun but Adam Godley was just a bit more silly and joyous (and made that ‘gypsy in me’ song funnier…which btw they REALLY need to update. Just change it to Spanish or something instead of Gypsy; it’s already totally a Spanish dance). And Hope was fine, perfectly serviceable but not a standout. I am spoiled by how perfect Laura Osnes (RIP) (she’s not dead just dead to me) was in the role, because come on — a beautiful and angelic-sounding but dull as dishwater debutante with zero character development or depth who just has to sound lovely and move gracefully and be as deep as a sheet of looseleaf? OSNES TO A TEE!
It really doesn’t matter what little qualms I have because it’s the best, it’s so much fun, it’s de-lovely. Marshall’s production is a joy to watch. It’s still way too long – like 2 hours 45 which is kind of pushing the rompness of a romp – but it’s hard to know what hilarious bits you could possibly live without (just kidding it’s the blue bird song and the THREATS TO THE DOG, OVVIAMENTE). Sutton has now left, because she has to go be Marion the Librarian on Broadway and I hope prove to everyone (including me) that she actually will be right for that part, and Rachel York has filled her shoes. I guess Rachel can tap? Awesome. Regardless, so fun, so joy, so wow. Loves it.
What is NOT FUN or joy or wow is the Barbican’s compleeeete laaaaack of caring that we are still in a pandemic. This was by far the worst showing for masks/caring we had ever seen (until this past weekend’s show; look out for a post on that later this week). They recommend that people wear masks, but unless and until staffers actually enforce an actual mask mandate, no one is going to wear one. I really wish that ushers would a) be visible anywhere and b) legit kick people out if you can see their noses. I honestly would volunteer my time to do the kicking out. Ugh it was really bad. I especially loved the unmasked family with two teens (too young to be vaxed at that time!) coughing the entire time. I’m not going to say RIP for the third time in this post but you know I’m thinking it. DO BETTER, BARBICAN AND EVERY LONDON THEATRE.
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Amelie the Musical Never Captures the Right Tone (or Tunes)
Musical theatre composers always say the test for what songs make the final score is rigorous and specific: They have to serve the story. The story comes first and the music needs to help tell it, whether by driving plot or developing characters. If the best song you’ve ever written doesn’t serve a purpose in the story, or just doesn’t fit the rest of the show, it needs to be cut. (That’s how we got the Hamilton Mixtape.) (Also how we got the incredible song “Come Down From That Tree” which we only know from Audra McDonald’s own recording of it because they wisely cut it from Once on this Island because it didn’t fit, even though it is a Best Song Ever.) I feel like most new musicals forget this test. Despite having so many productions in so many cities over the past four years, the London production of Amelie is full, packed, of songs that don’t pass the test. And the ones that do serve a purpose don’t fit the rest of the show, as the inconsistent tone only becomes more and more chaotic as the night goes on. It’s overall a poorly constructed show (funny since the actual physical construction/set design is the strongest part) with a confused purpose.
I don’t remember much about Amelie the movie, except that of course it was beyond whimsical and is probably responsible for the onslaught of manic-pixie-dreamgirls in the culture, or at least pale brunettes whose main personality trait is ‘quirky’. (PSA: Quirky/weird is not a personality.) A lot of my criticism of the ridiculous, messy story is likely taken straight from the movie. You might argue then that my problem is with the movie writers, not the creative team of the musical. And to that I’d say, what is this, Pretty Woman? Your job in adapting a film for the stage is not to copy and paste, failing to fix what needs to be fixed in order to work onstage. Whether this jumbled story worked in the film is completely irrelevant for stage purposes. They may have nailed the proper whimsical, eccentric tone in the movie, but trying the same things to achieve the same things in a different medium is bonkers and has resulted in an almost incoherent musical, with no discernible tone, objective, meaning, or intention.
With music by Daniel Messe (who wrote the music for the movie…and that score is excellent…so like…ah) and Nathan Tysen, and a book by Craig Lucas (who wrote one of my faves The Light in the Piazza which is also about a young girl who is, shall we say, not entirely there (so we were like…is that the only character he likes to write about because that’s problematic)), Amelie tells of a young French girl who lives through her imagination after a childhood of seclusion because her parents forking sucked. (Her mom gets killed by a man who jumps off Notre Dame, but he ALSO FIRST SHOOTS HIMSELF? Why? To make sure? What an asshole.) She decides to do a nice thing that makes someone else happy, so then she decides to do more nice things for other people and try to break out of her shell and maybe one day live in the real world. It sounds adorable! Except the things she does FORKING SUCK. Amelie the character is GODDAMN ASSHOLE. Is she supposed to be adorable? Is the whimsy supposed to make up for her assholiness? To quote Chidi-Janet: It does not. Makes it way worse.
The good deeds Amelie does include: finding a box under her floorboards and deciding to find its owner, which she does remarkably easily. To mark this occasion and her decision to do more good things, she…no, she doesn’t sing a song, her neighbor does, about being the old French man version of Samuel L. Jackson’s Mr Glass character.
Then, in the café where she works, there’s a really terrifying man stalking one of her coworkers because they went on a date a year ago. Instead of calling the police and filing for a restraining order, and maybe alerting the French version of the FBI that this is for sure a future incel/supremacist who is going to murder women, Amelie…sets him up with her other friend. For this there is no excuse.
Then there’s the mean old grocer who is mean to the boy who works for him because he…loves figs? This kid gets a little song about figs. Amelie doesn’t get a solo in the entirety of Act I. In Act II, she feeds the old man fig tart and it somehow makes him nice. I don’t know.
At some point, she bumps into a man named Nino, who spends his time going through public photo booths, like the kind where you get a strip of 4 photos in black and white. He collects the discarded ones; it’s his art. It’s love at first sight and Amelie sings about how striking this unexpected feeling is…no, Nino sings a song about the photo booth light. One day he loses his collection of photos, and Amelie finds it. Instead of returning it to him, she plays infuriating games with him and keeps his prized possession from him for literally weeks, but I guess he finds that adorable. I was fuming. Give people their shit back. One of the games she plays includes…going to the sex shop where he works, disguising herself as a nun, and then running away scared when she realizes he’s going to come out and see her?? WHAT DID SHE THINK WAS GOING TO HAPPEN? What is this white nonsense.
Amid all of this is a weird and tacky obsession with the death of Princess Diana. It’s in poor taste. I get that that’s a big thing in the movie but man alive it felt gross. Amelie imagines a big mega funeral for herself, with Elton John performing…and Act I ends with a HUGE rocking Elton John number that again, did not fit the show AT ALL.
I’m going to repeat that Elton John gets a big Act I number but in a musical named after her, Amelie does not have a solo in the entirety of the first act (except for a mini reprise). She doesn’t even seem like the main character at any point. The tone of the show is inconsistent and even contradictory, just all over the place, with big ridiculous silly numbers performed by giant garden gnomes and Elton Johns along with offbeat, artsy introspective songs. I guess with the contrast of styles they wanted to capture some whimsy? But it just feels like nonsense. There’s no magic. There’s one or two great songs in Act II, one with Amelie at the piano, that shows how good this show could have been with more work, and more editing. Or any editing.
Fortunately, along with the wonderful set design, the cast is doing a great job trying to keep this material afloat. Audrey Brisson’s Amelie looks exactly right and gives a great performance. The show takes a memo from the John Doyle playbook and has the actors doubling as the orchestra, which is impressive, and everyone is pretty uniformly good to great. With the solid cast and design, the production is definitely decent, but unlike the Guardian I can’t get past the material.
INFORMATION
Amelie is playing at The Other Palace in London until February 1.
This theatre has one of those horrible no-center-aisle situations so be sure to book seats on or near the aisles if you want to avoid being the last person out. Bathrooms are outside in the bar area but ALSO down in the secrets bowels of the building, accessed via a door directly at the bottom of the stage on the house left side. It took me several visits to learn about these secret and much better bathrooms down in the hallways between the main house and the studio that no one would usually get to explore. So now I like to sit on the house left/stage right aisle.
There is a lot of unnecessary smoking, and whatever herbal cigarettes they are using almost made me pass out. I get that ‘it’s Paris’, but you’ve shown that in myriad other ways. I dare anyone involved in theatre to defend well the use of cigarettes in a show. It’s never really necessary and instead is a health hazard to all and I don’t understand how it’s legal.
There’s also a super loud gunshot that shocked the shirt out of me. There was a small sign with all the trigger warnings on the door to the theatre but the ticket takers were blocking it when we entered, so, great work.
The first act ended at 20:43 and the show ended at 22:15. I felt every minute of it.
Standing at the Sky’s Edge: 2023 Olivier Winner Maybe Deserved It!
I don’t know why we slept so long on the 2023 Best Musical Olivier winner, but better late than never. Actually no, I do know why: it’s because husbo thought it would be ‘too English’ for my liking based simply on his knowledge that I hate colloquial English abbreviations like ‘brekkie’ so he says I’m ‘resistant to becoming British’ but little does he know I sign all my texts with x or even xx sometimes!
‘Standing at the Sky’s Edge’ takes place in Sheffield over three different timelines, telling stories of the people living in one specific flat over three generations, from standard starter home to projects to gentrified little zooplas. The stories of the madly-in-love ’60s newlyweds, the ’80s refugees from Liberia, and the posho escaping dramaz in London in the present intertwine nicely at first and then devastatingly later, all set to Richard Hawley (famous British musician? Pulp?)’s back catalogue and poss some new songs? Is this a jukebox musical? Who can say, but no.
I don’t say this often so gird your loins: the book is good. It’s captivating and the various timelines keep things interesting, and just when someone gets annoying you get to switch to someone else. I was pissed that I could tell early on from the subtle clues (“we got all four of your clues!” “amazing! actually I left more than 1200 clues but I’m glad you got enough to figure it out!”) that there would be a tragedy, and it was obvious which character it would befall, and I was like “could we please have one thing that isn’t tragic!” but it was well done and so emotionally charged (slash manipulating no jk I’m okay) that I was pretty much ugly crying for the last 20 minutes. And sure that’s not the rarest occurrence during quality musical theatre but there does need to be a legitimate connection forged.
I was disappointed at first that it seems very much ‘play with music’ rather than ‘musical’, because aside from Laura Pitt-Pulver’s Act I solo, the music wasn’t actually driving story or fleshing out the characters; it was just using music to have music. But the second act’s songs were more purposeful, I think…or maybe I got less angry about it. Both good options! The first post-P.Pulver’s-sad-I-Want-song-to actually-be-about-the-action song (actually it was about half that song, because at first it seemed like another ‘let’s have someone in the ensemble grab a mic and just sing one of these songs’ but then it turned into actually being about the action in a nice little switcherooround) was a catchy super-belted number from LPP’s estranged girlfriend that we heard so much about (LPP’s Poppy (like my dog!) had talked incessantly about her ex Nicky but I knew immediately that it was a garl Nikki because no boys are called Nicky anymore but Z thought that was a well hidden surprise; I guess he didn’t realize the Nicky change of our generation). I was like ‘oh wow this chick has a super strong belt…this chick sounds familiar…THIS CHICK IS BLOODY ELLE!’ As in the best show we saw a few years back at the Fringe, Bloody Elle (real name Lauryn Redding)! So that was a lovely surprise.
The weaving together of the three well-balanced timelines feels fluid and unforced. Important historical events and political attitudes are noted, affecting the characters but not inserted forcibly or in a heavy-handed manner (hooray for storytelling and not the new wave of ‘here is what you should think!’ storyshouting). Like with our Liberian refugee family, the audience can remember for themselves how important it is for Britain to have open borders, and with our coal miner ’60s men railing against Thatcher, audiences can think ‘were some of these men in Billy Elliot’. The ways the stories connect (or not! no spoilers!) are initially revealed with subtlety that was a breath of fresh air in modern playwriting. Even though this theatre feels enormous (and breathable! all this air!) and the show tries to fill that space with loud noise and some big production numbers, it ends up feeling like an intimate little show that cuts you real deep, Shrek, which is pretty special.
INFO
SATSE (fun to say!) plays the Gillian Lynne theatre until August 3.
I LOVE this theatre. All the seats have decent legroom and more importantly, they have really high backs, so no one coughs into your hair.
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Welcome back
Missed you and Sutton