"P" SOUP – THE SEQUEL OF THE
RETURN…HUH?
("P" Soup is a wholly-owned
subsidiary of Alphabet Soup)
More "P" Soup!
I wanna be a producer of a parade where everyone is
comfy-cozy in their pajamas.
THE PRODUCERS
– Cadillac Palace Theatre, Chicago
February, 2001. Last tryout performance before heading to
New York. The atmosphere outside of the Cadillac Palace was insane. People were
literally going up and down the line of audience members waiting to enter the
theatre and offering to buy their tickets. I even heard someone say they'd pay
$600 for a pair. (And, yes, I thought about it…briefly. Figured if someone was
willing to pay that much money, I'd better see the damn thing.) The buzz had
been overwhelming; the reviews ecstatic. Anticipation was palpable. And I'm
happy to say the show delivered on all fronts. It was a triumph the likes of
which I had seldom seen. Stellar performances by Nathan Lane, Matthew
Broderick, Gary Beach, Roger Bart, Cady Huffman, and Brad Oscar, filling in for
the injured Ron Orbach (Oscar would replace Orbach for the New York opening), had the audience in an almost continuous state of hysterical laughter. Susan
Stroman's direction and choreography were inventive, effective, and memorable.
I mean, seriously, the "Along Came Bialy" number with the walkers?
Brilliant! The Mel Brooks and Thomas Meehan book kept the laughs in constant
supply and Mel Brooks' score won't win any awards for originality or musical
theatre brilliance, but it was tuneful, bright, and toe-tappingly satisfying.
"Springtime for Hitler" was ridiculously over-the-top. For me, the
highlight was Lane's "Betrayed," a tour-de-force that got the biggest
ovation of the night. For a pre-Broadway tryout, it was in sensational shape,
ready for New York critics in my opinion. When The Producers opened in New York, the lines at the box office went
around the corner, the critics raved, and at the 2001 Tony Awards, it won in
every category in which it was nominated, winning a record twelve awards. The
Chicago performance was, and remains, a singular experience. – at the Cadillac
Palace Theatre, Chicago
November, 2002. A funny thing happened to The Producers in its third stop on the
"Max" tour…at least for me. And that was, the show I found exuberant,
fresh, fabulously funny, deliciously irreverent, and so wrong in all the
right ways, was now slick and professional, knowing full well the material was
guaranteed to get laughs and therefore everyone involved could just relax and
not give it 100%. They could chill out at, oh, 85-90%. The capacity crowd at
the Aronoff Center's Proctor & Gamble Hall, a 2700-seat barn, pretty, but
with zero intimacy, didn't give a hoot that they weren't getting the same show
I saw twenty months earlier in Chicago. My companion, in fact, found it wonderful.
But the truth is, in Chicago, that incomparable and definitive cast, the fresh
direction and choreography, the hysterical book and score, and the physical
production itself all combined to make the theatrical equivalent of a positive
perfect storm, if that makes any sense. Here in Cincinnati, though everything
looked and sounded the same, it simply wasn't. I frankly did not like Lewis J.
Stadlen, playing Max. He underplayed everything, especially in his underwhelming
"Betrayed." Broadway vets Fred Applegate (Franz Liebkind), Angie
Schworer (Ulla), neighboring Covington, KY native Lee Roy Reams (Roger De
Bris), and Jeff Hyslop (Carmen Ghia…he would leave the tour after the Aronoff
engagement, and, according to the local review, was absent on press night. Was
he fired?) were all fine and hit their marks with assurance. I did like Don
Stephenson's Leo a lot. He had charm to spare and just the right amount of
nerdiness. The local reviewers and audiences ate it up. I didn't. – at
the Aronoff Center (Proctor & Gamble Hall), Cincinnati
– Vivian Beaumont Theatre, New York
December, 1998. Preview performance. Somber. Unrelenting.
Brilliant. The tree that stood tall and foreboding throughout the show set the
mood. The story of Leo Frank and the travesty of his trial and execution at the
hands of a lynch mob was told with integrity and honesty under the direction of
master director Harold Prince with just-right choreography by Patricia Birch.
Broadway vets J.B. Adams, Don Chastain, John Hickok, Herdon Lackey, Evan
Pappas, and Rufus Bonds, Jr. provided sterling support. The show, however,
rests on its two main characters, Leo and Lucille Frank, and those two parts
could not possibly have been in better hands than Brent Carver and Carolee
Carmello's. Two incredible actors delivering exquisite, nuanced, deeply
involving performances. Don't believe
me? Revel in the glory of Carmello's "You Don't Know This Man."
Carver and Carmello's duet near the end of the show, "All the Wasted
Time," left the audience breathless. This was a show in which you could
hear a pin drop, and you often did. "The Factory Girls/Come Up to My
Office" segment during Act One's trial is hands down one of the creepiest
and most disturbing numbers in musical theatre, right up there with
"Yellow Shoes" from The Visit.
Not a happy show, the Tony that year went to Fosse, about as safe as you can get. However, Alfred Uhry would win
a Tony for Best Book of a Musical and Jason Robert Brown would win for Best
Score. Sadly, Parade never found its
audience and it ran less than 100 performances. I am simply mad about this
show. – at the Vivian Beaumont Theatre, New York
– Berkeley Street
Upstairs Theatre, Toronto
January, 2011. When it was announced that Parade would make its Canadian premiere
in Toronto, Bob and I immediately made plans to see it. And that, as they say,
was a mistake. A co-production from Studio 180 and Acting Up Stage Company,
this was a hot mess. Full stop. Poorly designed, poorly directed, poorly acted,
and with two competent, but unexciting leads, we hated every minute. Plus our
seats were mere inches from the too-loud orchestra. Had our seats not been on
the far side of the theatre and we would have had to inconvenience our entire
row and walk in front of the stage to exit, we would have left almost
immediately. We did at the interval. Sad, sad, sad. – at the Berkeley Street
Upstairs Theatre, Toronto
– Writers Theatre,
Glencoe, IL
July, 2017. In Writers Theatre sparkling, but cold, new
home, Parade was a textbook example
of just how good Chicago theatre can be when talented folks at the top of their
game get together and put on a show. This was simply superb, from beginning to
end. My one quibble was that director Gary Griffin still hadn't mastered directing
in a thrust environment and directed the show as though it were being performed
in a proscenium house. Fortunately, we were in what would be center orchestra
in a proscenium house, so we didn't miss a thing. Patrick Andrews and Brianna
Borger as Leo and Lucille Frank were so, so good, vocally and acting-wise. They
were supported by a cast of fourteen actors, not a weak one in the bunch. These
sixteen actors brought this show to brilliant life. Bravo all! The best show
we'd seen at Writers…and our last until things change on the artistic level,
which, I believe, will never happen, at least by choice, at this North Shore society darling. – at
Writers Theatre, Glencoe
THE PAJAMA GAME – American Airlines Theatre, New York
February, 2006. Preview performance. For many in
the capacity audience on February 19, 2006, I suspect the highlight of Roundabout
Theatre's absolutely delightful production of 1954's The Pajama Game was at the finale's "The Pajama Game"
when Harry Connick, Jr. appeared shirtless and wearing pajama bottoms. The audience went wild and for good reason. Connick was a total muffin of
masculine tastiness. (Off subject…if only his performance in On a Clear Day You Can See Forever had
even a smidgen of that sexiness, perhaps that show wouldn't rate as the worst
show I've ever seen to date.) Directed and choreographed by Kathleen Marshall,
this was a lovingly produced slice of musical theatre 1950s fluff. The show has
always had a terrific score, and this cast did it full justice. Connick's singing
was better than his acting, but he gave it his all, and he just appeared to be
having a grand time. His piano riff during "Hernando's Hideaway" made
that song the show's undisputed highlight. Co-star Kelli O'Hara was feisty,
funny, and sang the crap out of her songs. Michael McKean (Hines), Roz Ryan
(Mabel), Joyce Chittick (Mae), Peter Benson (Prez), and Megan Lawrence (Gladys)
provided top-notch support, with Lawrence being especially funny and endearing
throughout. Curiously, Marshall gave "Steam Heat" to Mae instead
of Gladys, and the number was excellent, but I missed the precision and snap of
the Fosse original. I'm grateful that Marshall didn't feel the need to update
or reimagine the material, but instead treated the show with respect and
affection. Yes, much now seems dated (a 7 ½ cent raise?), but when done as a
period piece with no irony or affectation, The
Pajama Game offers theatergoers a lovely break from the cares of the
everyday world. I loved it. – at the American Airlines Theatre, New York
Miscellaneous
Tidbits:
o For the record, Connick put on a
sleeveless undershirt for bows. Sigh.
o The
Pajama Game won the 1955 Tony Award for Best Musical, would run for 1063
performances, and be made into a terrific film starring John Raitt and Doris
Day.
o Composer/lyricist team of Richard
Adler and Jerry Ross wrote only two complete shows together, The Pajama Game and the following year's
Damn Yankees. Ross died at the young
age of 29 in 1955. Richard Adler wrote the music and lyrics for two flops, Kwamina and Music Is, but never had another success on Broadway.
A sequel to a sequel! Well, that's it for "P" Soup. Until next time!
© 2018 Jeffrey Geddes
