“The King & I” Enjoyed
“The Visit” with “An
American in Paris”
by TONY VELLELA
When a person [or for that matter, a place], deprived of true romance, finally has that loss put right, everything seems to lift off the ground, as the joy of sharing that new, fresh love infuses its gravity-defying powers in everything it touches. World War II -ravaged Paris, just after the liberation, was just such a place. The new stage adaptation of the 1951 George and Ira Gershwin movie musical “An American in Paris” is filled with all those emotions, and so much more. Director/choreographer Christopher Wheeldon has expanded his creative repertoire from New York City Ballet principal dancer and artistic associate of England’s Royal Ballet, to the Broadway stage. A new work has successfully retained the admittedly simple story line of Jerry [splendid Robert Fairchild], an American GI staying behind in Paris after his discharge, to follow his dream of being a painter [Gene Kelly in the film]. He meets [not really by chance] a timid but radiant young ballerina/shop girl, Lise [a lissome, doe-eyed Leanne Cope, and Leslie Caron in the film]. Along the way, his composer friend Adam [a charmingly churlish Brandon Uranowitz], an arts patron Milo [a fetching Jill Paice, who admires more than Jerry’s creations], and the ballerina’s intended fiance Henri [Max Von Essen] conspire and contradict each other, injecting plot complications that any love story can easily overcome. And the always-delightful Veanne Cox turns the part of Henri’s mother into a delicious role, adding a few more twists to the story line, but never overpowering the romance.
This sumptuous production is about showing more than telling. The serviceable book, by Craig Lucas, handily connects the dots. [An earlier, aborted project to adapt the movie for the stage had Wendy Wasserstein attached to pen the libretto – one wonders . . .] Nowhere else in town can you revel in a piece that has dance, movement, music, lights and atmosphere combine to warmly wrap its arms around you. Tapping Wheeldon to oversee the wedding of book and music gives the entire musical the invaluable benefit of someone who knows how to unspool dances, like silk billowing off a bobbin. He starts with a wordless pastiche that presents the Paris of that moment, from the quickened pace of Parisians expressing their new-found freedoms, to a fierce mob-attack inflicted on a Nazi sympathizer. He delivers great showmanship to the many standards, songs that have lived on, apart from the show, including “I Got Rhythm,” “Who Cares?,” “The Man I Love,” “Shall We Dance?,” “They Can’t Take That Away From Me” and many others. And he offers us a spectacular ballet suite for the entire company, set to Gershwin’s brilliant, haunting “An American in Paris.”
Wheeldon very wisely has collaborated with an A-list of designers: Natasha Katz [lighting], Jon Weston [sound design], the 59 Productions team [projection design] and first among equals, Bob Crowley [set and costume design]. What they have given him, and his stand-out ensemble, is an environment that appears to float – yup, float – because all the set pieces have been mounted on silent wheels. They are positioned and re-positioned by people rather than electronics, gliding into place and away again, all with a welcome dash of whimsy. And he fills the spaces with the assured aplomb of a veteran director. One lively set-piece has Jerry follow Lise into the shop where she works, resulting in a boisterous, cheerful number that brings to mind that same kind of choreographed chaos Prof. Harold Hill unleashed in Marian’s library.
No musical like this can survive if it feels like a stitched-together collection of scenes and sequences. This production owes a great debt to Rob Fisher, who has adapted pieces from the Gershwin canon, gifting them to Wheeldon, who in turn gives his cast these excellent orchestrations to move to, as they segue from moment to moment. He has chosen a handsome, appealing, musically masterful pair in Fairchild and Cope, who bring to mind memorable, versatile on-screen dancers of the era when the Oscar-winning picture was made, such as Kelly, Caron, Cyd Charisse, Fred Astaire, Bambi Lynn, and Marge and Gower Champion.
If one wants to dispense credit where credit is due, some of it needs to be sent back in time to Vincente Minnelli, who directed the 1951 lush, sensuous motion picture, staking out the territory this production needed to recall. Happily, it does.
At the same time [1951] that movie-goers were being dazzled by “An American in Paris” on the big screen, theatre-goers visiting Broadway’s St. James Theatre were experiencing the birth of another classic – composer Richard Rodgers and book and lyric-writer Oscar Hammerstein II’s “The King and I.” Today’s audiences can, with no disrespect intended, say they’ve seen this classic tale of courage, dignity, and the clashes of cultures and human hearts brought to life at Lincoln Center’s Vivian Beaumont Theatre in a production superior to any in its history.
Alone among Broadway producing entities, Lincoln Center operates much like the fabled movie studios during Hollywood’s Golden Age, with vast resources of all kinds brought together to present matchless work. And that becomes apparent within minutes of the opening, as the ship carrying schoolteacher Anna Leonowens and her young son Louis glides into the port of Bangkok. That’s because the ship makes its way right into the audience, a stunning effect, as mother and son peer expectantly onto the dock, awaiting a welcoming party to escort them to the palace of the King of Siam. It is 1861, the world’s leading political players are snapping up countries around the globe to claim as their colonies, and the insightful but poorly educated King has hired Anna to teach his children [and perhaps their mothers as well] the ways of the West, hoping to hold off the very real threat that the British Navy, docked nearby, will soon invade.
And the King’s welcoming party does arrive, streaming down the aisles of the Beaumont much like the parade of animals entering the realm of “The Lion King.” The sounds, dance moves, costuming and colors of Siam seem to provide the newcomers with a sense of how rich and textured this place will be, and they are escorted into the palace without incident, until a major snag hits the proceedings. Anna’s version of her contract included having a private, separate house outside the palace, a provision the King has chosen to forget and ignore. Against her better judgment, she agrees to stay, charmed by the parade of the King’s many, many children who will be her charges. [Remember how Nellie’s heart was melted by Emile’s children in another R&H classic, “South Pacific.”]
Easily negotiating her way despite the miles-wide hoop-skirt dress she wears, Kelli O’Hara presents a woman balancing the many stages of her life that have all come together at this critical moment. She is the widow of a navy captain, as well as the mother of pre-teen, inquisitive son Louis, and also, the representative of Western culture. She stands as the embodiment of what the King calls the ‘scientific’ way of doing things. And at or near the bottom of the list, she is, save for Louis, a woman alone in a strange and challenging land. Perhaps more than any other role in her illustrious career, O’Hara has been provided with the opportunity to inhabit a character who is juggling all these elements at the same time. Not even the very commendable portrayal she fashioned in the recent “Bridges of Madison County” involved bringing to life such a complex, conflicted and compelling role. And the production’s strength and substance starts and ends with her.
This is a genuine eye-popping spectacular, and not simply because of lavish sets and costumes. Dances reflect the stylized movement of men and women from this region: eye-filling, angular-limbed movements of native rituals, which have long been repeated in tapestries and pottery. And the ubiquitous applications of gold echo how southeast Asian cultures have traditionally always used it to summon good fortune, nowhere more than an all-seeing, all-knowing statue of Buddha that presides over the King’s domain.
To impress the landing party of British naval officers who have arrived to check out how ‘civilized’ the Siamese people are, Anna suggests presenting a stage play based on Harriet Beecher Stowe’s “Uncle Tom’s Cabin,” a book being eagerly devoured by slave girl Tuptim. The beguiling young woman has been presented to the King by his neighbor and potential adversary, the King of Burma. The result: a narrated-ballet depiction of how she has translated the American classic into “The Small House of Uncle Thomas.” The result: a folklore tale amusingly assayed through the simple yet respectful cultural references of the young woman’s experiences. This world of “Uncle Thomas” swirls about, as giant snowflakes suspended from poles, represent the harsh winter in ‘the kingdom of Kentucky.’ Acres of billowing silk represent the tumultuous river runaway slave-girl Topsy tries to navigate. This production’s lilting, child-like version of the saga is better than any other version I’ve ever seen of this vital element in the emergence of the critical breach between Anna and the King.
Young Jake Lucas maintains a proper, poised demeanor as Anna’s son Louis, matched by Jon Viktor Corpuz’s performance as the Crown Prince. And as the powerful, influential Lady Thiang, the King’s first wife, Ruthie Ann Miles commands the respect that must be shown to her as mother of the future king. She treads a perilous tightrope in the King’s court, overseeing all the other wives, protecting both her son and her husband from those who would try to supersede the succession. She understands that there are those who are wary of Anna’s growing ability to persuade the King that many ingrained traditions regarding the treatment of his subjects, and in particular of women, are indeed barbaric. Miles delivers a nuanced, calibrated performance, showing how this woman, through restraint rather than assertions, has managed to grow into much more than a wife/mother, and has learned well how to manipulate situations to keep the peace, with no loss of face to the King, while at the same time insuring her son’s succession to the throne.
If there is a weakness in this otherwise glorious production, it is Ken Watanabe’s poor diction. Of course, the King’s English should be unpolished, but that does not excuse his often flawed pronunciations and garbled articulation. More’s the pity, since his otherwise anchored performance captures the evolution of a supreme ruler who has come to terms with the myth of his ‘infallibility,’ as he discovers, and acknowledges his human emotions and vulnerabilities.
The actual life story of Anna Leonowens stands as one of those properties that has successfully withstood many translations, from personal memoir, to stage play, to black-and-white film, and color film, and adaptation into a stage musical [that is this version], and a last stop on the ‘popular culture’ train when the musical emerged as a beloved motion picture. Yet, for those who have seen that picture [starring Yul Brynner as the King, repeating his Broadway performance, and Deborah Kerr as Anna, ably aided by the off-screen vocals of Marni Nixon], the experience of being brought into the lives and feelings of these characters will more than match the impact of a two-dimensional telling of the tale. Like Anna, you become immersed in the vibrant hues, the tactile surfaces, the memorable melodies and the powerful emotions this masterwork contains. All hail the King!
Talking of royalty, the [relatively] new musical “The Visit,” from John Kander (music), the late Fred Ebb (lyrics), and Terrence McNally (book) currently in residence at the Lyceum Theatre, might better be titled “The Visit From Queen Chita.” Broadway legend, winner of two Tony Awards and seven additional nominations, and uncontested doyenne of The Great White Way, Chita Rivera carries her 82 years with a regal presence that still captivates. Her newest role, Claire Zachanassian, is part romantic, part villainess and all seductress. Based on the 1956 folktale drama of the same name by Friedrich Durrenmatt, the almost macabre proceedings unfold in a lean, spare single setting, a railway station long ago fallen into disrepair. Dead and dying grape vines strangle the rusting girders. And the townspeople in this desolate, bankrupt backwater Mediterranean village await the arrival of one of their own, the long-departed waif who has since become the wealthiest woman in the world, whom they hope will rescue them from certain extinction. And she’s not alone.
Escorted by a sinister butler, and a pair of blind eunuchs, who protect an imposing ebony coffin, she has also brought a proposition to save their village. However, before her ‘deal’ can be revealed, she methodically, coldly reminds those welcoming her today to the injustices she suffered as a wronged teen-ager, and of the emotional lacerating she endured from her handsome, cocksure boyfriend Anton all those many decades ago. The weather-beaten old man he has grown into is played with both melancholy and bravura by Roger Rees. It is Anton that she has returned to see, and she demands nothing less than his life, in exchange for a gift of $8 billion to the town, and an additional $2 million apiece for its residents. Kill him, and she writes the checks.
This seemingly simple plot, however, teases us with all the hard-core questions that people have tried to reconcile since civilization began – what is one person’s life worth? Is there an expiration date that attaches to an injustice? What can money buy beyond material things? And can an old, long-dead love be revived? Should it? Claire challenges her hated birthplace to settle her score with Anton, who can still stir some embers in this cheetah, a commanding vision in blazing white mink and blinding red lipstick.
It is to director John Doyle’s credit that the outcome is never certain, that he keeps tension alive, as songs and dancing reveal the intricacies of Claire’s poisoned past. And after seven or nine husbands, she knows exactly how to play things moment to moment, and how to torture all assembled with her tantalizing bargain. Will they comply and shoot their beloved neighbor and friend, in exchange for the fortune? Will Anton’s long-suffering wife intercede and disrupt Claire’s plan? Can Claire and Anton recapture their youthful rapture? Will she kill him and then herself, leaving their burial together in that coffin to her grim attendants?
The musical has travelled many roads before landing on Broadway. Originally conceived as a vehicle for Angela Lansbury, that plan was abandoned when Ms. Lansbury had to withdraw to attend to her ailing husband. Chita [who has a rich history with the creators, as well as with choreographer Graciela Daniele] has taken Claire from Chicago’s Goodman, to DC’s Signature Theatre, and finally to last summer’s Williamstown Theatre Festival, while the piece was tweaked and prodded into its current intermission-less ninety-eight minutes. Fred Ebb’s score, while revisiting familiar chords and patterns heard in works such as “Chicago,” “Cabaret,” “Steel Pier,” and “The Scottsboro Boys,” has infused it with the haunting harmonies reminiscent of Federico Fellini’s longtime composer/collaborator Nino Rota. And throughout the show, Chita/Claire commands the spotlight. Yes, the dancing has been toned down to accommodate those sixteen metal screws in her character Claire’s left leg, a repair made following a 1986 car accident. And yes, her singing voice has echoes of its decades of good service, from “West Side Story,” “Bye, Bye Birdie,” “Chicago,” and “Kiss of the Spider Woman,” to “The Rink,” and many other vocal victories.
But, hey! Chita’s back! And there will always be a time and a place for a visit with this royal legend.
On Book
Coming up next week will be a rather thorough review of the exciting, much-buzzed-about new musical “Fun Home,” which features Jeanine Tesori’s splendid score , matched with book and lyrics by Lisa Kron. This show is based on the graphic novel by cartoonist Alison Bechdel – full title: “Fun Home – A Family Tragicomic,” from Houghton Mifflin’s division that publishes its Mariner Book collection. Why mention it in the ‘On Book’ section? To urge you to pay a visit to the Drama Bookshop to pick up a copy of that novel,. It’s certainly a worthy way to spend your ‘down time’ reading, and I think it will enhance the experience of seeing the show, running now at the Circle in the Square theatre . . . However, if you’d like to dive into a fascinating reading experience that also honors the idea of ‘home,” consider a very engrossing pair of new books from Dress Circle Publishing. The musical theatre historian and producer Jennifer Ashley Tepper has compiled this literary ‘duet,’ with the full title “The Untold Stories of Broadway – Tales from the World’s Most Famous Theaters.” The list of people interviewed for this project runs well past one hundred, everyone revealing inside anecdotes and, as they say, ‘fun facts.’ Wanna sneak behind the curtain at “Wicked,” or “Rent” or “A Chorus Line?” What did Jonathan Groff undertake to cop tickets for “Thoroughly Modern Millie?” And who was observed dropping trou in the direct sightline of a venerated TV icon? And the good news is that there are more editions on the way.
_______________________________________________
TONY VELLELA wrote and produced the PBS documentary series about theatre, “Character Studies.” “Admissions,” his Best Play Award-winner [N.Y. International Fringe Festival] is published by Playscripts. ArtAge Press published his play “Maisie and Grover Go to the Theatre.” His articles about the performing arts have appeared in dozens of publications, including Parade, the Christian Science Monitor, Rolling Stone, Dramatics, Reader’s Digest and the Robb Report. He has taught at several institutions, including Columbia University Teachers College, HB Studios and the New School. He is currently conducting theatre-topic classes and sessions at the 92nd St. Y [visit 92Y.org for details], as well as small-group sessions and individual coaching from his home in Manhattan.