UpDate - Vol. 11, No. 1, Page 7
September 5, 1991
Theatre review; Current Braodway offerings delightful, varied

     Everyone has heard much about Les Miserables. (I give that a
"10.") Phantom of the Opera (an "8," somewhat more glitz than
substance); and Cats. (A "7," read the poems ahead of time and take
the kids and you could move up to "8.") The four Tony nominees for
'91, two from '90 and some of the enjoyable Off-Broadway offerings
may not be so often discussed.
     Miss Saigon arrived noisily from London with much press about
multi-cultural casting issues, but I found it laden with
unimaginative cliche lyrics and a heavy-handed message about the
plight of the Vietnamese children of American soldiers. (I
immediately recalled Walter Kerr's dictum: "If you want to send a
message, use Western Union.") The only song for which I wanted to
buy the sheet music was "The American Dream," which was memorably
performed on the Tony Awards. The characters were one-dimensional
and not especially engaging.
     Once on This Island is professionally written, melodic and
beautifully team-performed. A group of Antilles islanders tell the
story of ill-starred lovers from "two different worlds" (the black
peasants vs. the mulatto plantation owners) and how love conquers
death. Observing gods and goddesses comment and participate in the
action. My daughters noted strong parallels with The Little Mermaid
in plot and in the young spunky heroine. The show is entertaining
and the recording is a favorite for our car listening, but the
production values are modest, it seems too modest for Broadway with
its one set and simple costumes. (Off-Broadway it would be a "10.")
     Absolutely bursting at the seams with production values is
Secret Garden. If you loved the book you may be enraged at the
liberties taken with characters and situations. The authors have
also put a chorus of cholera victim ghosts onstage to move
elaborate set pieces and stop the action cold, periodically, with
unintelligible operetta-like songs. It seemed as if Oklahoma and
Sweeney Todd (landmark musicals for integration of songs and plot)
had never been written. The set is a pop-up book of Victorian
valentines with rabbits and hearts, which have no relation whatever
to the gloomy Victorian mansion where the little heroine lives.
Many people around us left at intermission. Others gamely tried to
give it a standing ovation. I was angry at all the money spent on
a team who didn't know how to write or direct musicals.
     Tommy Tune knocks our socks off with Ziegfieldesque
choreography, jewelled or Western costumes and pyramidal sets in
Will Rogers Follies. (There is even a trained dog act.) We are told
at the onset that Will is to die in a plane accident, and his
flying buddy waves from a box seat throughout the show, calling
"Let's go flying, Will." Although the action is set in the '20s and
'30s, it is viewed unabashedly from a '90s sensibility with
comments on ecology, smoking and actors becoming president. The
songs are assertively old fashioned and melodic and fun. Keith
Carradine is so engaging as the soft-spoken humorist and rope
twirler, with his wry observations about humanity, life, politics
and the U.S., that we joined happily in the prolonged standing
ovation at the end.
     Tommy Tune also directed and choreographed Grand Hotel the
previous year. A successful movie about lost and pitiful souls in
a German hotel has been transformed into an odd, depressing musical
with a clash of styles between some songs by the authors of the
old-fashioned saccharin Kismet, and songs by Maury Yeston with
Sondheimesque relentless, driving, plot-progressing lyrics but
unhummable melodies. The set is a gold skeleton of girders with
chairs and a revolving door; Tune's group choreography seems
imprisoned and restrained. Forbidden Broadway, a delightful, wry
spoof of current offerings, appropriately calls it "Grim Hotel." It
does have high points when a few of the sad characters have brief
epiphanies.
     My favorite of last year was City of Angels, whose onstage
"author/hero" is writing a 1940s hard-boiled detective story. His
trench-coated detective inhabits a black-and-white world while the
author himself has adventures in a side-by-side technicolor set.
When the author rewrites a scene at his typewriter, the actors move
and speak in reverse, rewinding and replaying with corrections, a
clever and well-done device. Songs were intelligent and fun, but no
desire lingered to hear them again. The writing team seemed to give
up entirely when it came to ending the show, and picked a fairly
senseless onstage pandemonium as an "out."
     I've described six new Broadway shows representing the
expenditure of millions of dollars, but all have problematic
components. Last week, however, I also saw Forbidden Broadway on
60th Street and Pageant on 44th Street, both as Off-Broadway
cabaret offerings with waiters and tables. About those two I have
no complaints. Each had a small cast (four or seven) in a small
space, but are crisp, professionally performed and intelligently
written and directed.
     Instead of pit orchestras and electronic synthesizers, these
shows featured superstar pianists. (FB's had no light and no music;
all by ear.) The "1991 1/2" version of Forbidden Broadway sends up
all musicals mentioned above with a knockout number of the
helicopter from Miss Saigon and the chandelier from Phantom vying
for prominence to the music of "Anything You Can Do I Can Do
Better." ("I sound like a tractor!" "I can kill an actor!") An
actor wigged and moustached as Stephen Sondheim sings about his
failed Assassins, "You Can't Get a Hit With a Gun."
     Four actors switched convincingly from Tyne Daley to Julie
Andrews or Topol to Jackie Mason, aided mainly by characteristic
wigs. Pageant featured six men as beauty contestants: Miss Deep
South, Miss Industrial Northeast, Miss Texas, etc. who appeared
with brilliantly indicative wig styles and were introduced by a
smarmy emcee with a pompadour and an omnipresent unctuous wink.
     The fact that the beauty contestants were all men quickly
became secondary as the audience roared at their dialogue, views of
the world and "talents." Miss Texas tapped ferociously with
twirling ropes and guns; Miss Deep South wore a Scarlett O'Hara
dress and did ventriloquism. Miss West Coast did an interpretive
dance about birth and life. My teenage daughter and I noted
afterward that our faces ached from smiling and laughing so
continuously. A different contestant wins each night; the audience
votes. (I was asked to be one of the six judges and had to hold up
number cards about each.)
     If you decide to see any of these shows, I must relay that
whereas Ticketron gave us no trouble and mailed tickets promptly,
Ticketmaster (which charges a $5 service fee per ticket) did not
follow through, causing us great trouble getting in to one show,
even though my credit card had been charged for the tickets a month
earlier. The box office fellow said this happened often. I promised
to write a letter; that will be my next essay.
                                              - Joyce Hill Stoner
                                                     Chairperson,
                                   Department of Art Conservation