January 19, 2023
"Forbidden Broadway" Just As Funny In Londonby Randi / November 23, 2014
Apologies if this is inappropriate when discussing such a serious show, but “The Scottsboro Boys” is like an off-the-rails Stefon sketch (but heavy-hearted). “It has everything: racism, rape, abusive prison guards, an Uncle Sam cracker, blackface, suicide, jokes about New Yorkers, Jew money, quitter minstrels…” “Quitter minstrels?” “It’s that thing of when black actors putting on a horribly racist minstrel show refuse to play along with the white ringleader any longer when the truth becomes too much to bear.”
“The Scottsboro Boys” really does present all of this and much more, in a gut-wrenching, unnerving portrayal of the heart-breaking true story. Actually, it doesn’t have one of the above-listed items: rape. “The Scottsboro Boys” tells the true and depressing story about 9 young black men and boys who were falsely accused of rape in 1931, by two white “Alabama ladies” who were trying to get out of being caught themselves for sneaking onto a train. In our modern society (which is pretty much the same on this issue as it has been throughout history because nothing has improved, really), it’s hard to latch on to the subject of women lying about sexual assault, since that happens only maybe 0.03% of the time yet is argued to be the case 100% of the time.
But the case of the Scottsboro Boys was one of those few times when it was indeed made up, when the allegations were completely and totally false, and it was easy to figure out that the entire years-long, hard-fought battle was a product of the south’s fostered racism. Alabama, where the boys were arrested and imprisoned for so many years, had a regime of punishing black people for no reason and it didn’t want to give up. And no matter how hard the north, the non-corrupt members of the judiciary, and even the Supreme Court wanted to change this regime, the south would not could not would never back down willingly from its tyranny.
Sounds like a perfect idea for a musical, right? Well it is. There’s a stupid stereotype about Broadway musicals out there, that they are pretty much live Disney princess movies where everything is happy and the music comes from people breaking into song due to happiness. People who think this way have probably not seen a musical in a theatre in the past 40 years or so. The majority of great musicals tell complicated stories. The format enhances storytelling of all sorts because, as no one could deny, music has the ability to convey all kinds of emotions and thoughts better than merely speaking can. “The Scottsboro Boys” works as a musical because we think it shouldn’t. The creative team (including music by Kander & Ebb) took this awful, depressing story of our actual history and made a musical version one would never expect: a minstrel show. In this manner, the story becomes even more grotesque and upsetting. The framing device, of a group of black actors telling this tale with high-stepping songs and big smiles (at least in the beginning), lets the audience see even more clearly how disgusting not just this story but all of America’s racist history (and present) is. Some of the songs done in the minstrel fashion are supposed to make you smile and then make you shudder in horror at the fact that you just smiled.
The show is difficult to get through at times, but it’s so worth it. We’ve heard endless awful stories coming out of this time period, but this one really hits you and hurts, due to how familiar and close we get with the characters. The talent on that stage is impressive, and nearly half the actors come from the original Broadway cast. I did not know this going in, because I am a Broadway snob and I assumed that if people I should know were over here, then I’d know it. I am a fool. A fool! The two main minstrels, Mr. Bones and Mr. Tambo, are played by Colman Domingo and Forrest McClendon. BOTH from the original Broadway cast, BOTH were nominated for featured actor Tony awards. I mean. I just had a momentary slip I guess. I was almost surprised to realize that McClendon was playing Mr. Tambo because his accent was sooo weird, so off-putting. I blamed it on the difficulty I’ve seen too much over here, of British actors butchering an American accent, then taken 4 steps further to make it Southern and comical. But he’s American. I guess it just works for the character but I wanted him to stop! The other original cast member was one of my faves – James T. Lane (who is from Philly and is my new friend), who does double duty as one of the boys and as one of the accusers, along with English actor Dex Lee. Even the White Man (or the Interlocutor), sort of running the minstrel show, is played by Julian Glover. Like, huge British actor that some people in the audience came specifically to see. I had no idea.
The main character is Haywood Patterson, a deep, illiterate, and pessimistic young man who based his life on always telling the truth, an ironic commitment here when telling the truth begets further punishment. While he’s sadly not portrayed by (the awesome and superb) Joshua Henry, the original Broadway cast member who was nominated for a Tony, he’s played by Brandon Victor Dixon, who originated the role off-Broadway and who is actually the one on the recording. (Side note: the off-Broadway company got a recording, so it wasn’t deemed necessary for the Broadway production. But now the London cast is getting a recording! Meaning, it’s pretty much the same people now because of Dixon in the lead again…conclusion, poor Joshua Henry.) Dixon was in “Motown: The Musical” last year and was nominated for “The Color Purple” back with ‘Tasia so he’s prettayyyy great. I just don’t know how I missed all this coming in.
We watch Haywood become a natural leader of this group of strangers, who eventually become more like brothers. We watch as one of the other boys teaches Haywood how to read and write. (This scene could have been more touching, but it was written extremely oddly – mostly about boobs and which letters look like them (spoiler: all of them?). It was very out of place.) Haywood is the character you most connect with and feel for, as his vow to uphold truth backfires in this corrupt judicial system, as he loses the chance to see his mother one last time, as he becomes the last one in prison.
I didn’t really just spoil it, saying that the others eventually get out of prison. There’s no happy ending, and it still takes many, many years before the youngest are first freed. As we learn in a sort of epilogue, freedom doesn’t do much, as their lives have already been destroyed. Most take their own lives, actively or passively letting themselves wither away instead of dealing with the world that knowingly did this to them. Haywood, who could have gotten paroled if he lied and admitted the crime, would never abandon his morals and instead died in jail. Yeah it’s a terrible damn story but it’s important to see. At times I actually had flashes of the thought “damn, I wish courts today paid half as much attention to sexual assault cases.” But the court didn’t give a damn about the supposed victims, or they would have actually listened to them when they recanted their false accusations. They just wanted to punish black people. That’s seriously what happened, and not that long ago either. It’s terrifying, and sad, and somehow the musical context enhances its poignancy. At the end, we learn from a movie-style written credit that the governor of Alabama officially pardoned the boys in 2013. Because the musical called attention to his state’s shitty history, not to pardon all the thousands of innocent black people who were and are victimized in similar ways. At least this story, when told in this very effective fashion, can elucidate the struggle that is still occurring. In that way, it’s a must-see.
Sounds like a perfect idea for a musical, right? Well it is. There’s a stupid stereotype about Broadway musicals out there, that they are pretty much live Disney princess movies where everything is happy and the music comes from people breaking into song due to happiness. People who think this way have probably not seen a musical in a theatre in the past 40 years or so. The majority of great musicals tell complicated stories. The format enhances storytelling of all sorts because, as no one could deny, music has the ability to convey all kinds of emotions and thoughts better than merely speaking can. “The Scottsboro Boys” works as a musical because we think it shouldn’t. The creative team (including music by Kander & Ebb) took this awful, depressing story of our actual history and made a musical version one would never expect: a minstrel show. In this manner, the story becomes even more grotesque and upsetting. The framing device, of a group of black actors telling this tale with high-stepping songs and big smiles (at least in the beginning), lets the audience see even more clearly how disgusting not just this story but all of America’s racist history (and present) is. Some of the songs done in the minstrel fashion are supposed to make you smile and then make you shudder in horror at the fact that you just smiled.
The show is difficult to get through at times, but it’s so worth it. We’ve heard endless awful stories coming out of this time period, but this one really hits you and hurts, due to how familiar and close we get with the characters. The talent on that stage is impressive, and nearly half the actors come from the original Broadway cast. I did not know this going in, because I am a Broadway snob and I assumed that if people I should know were over here, then I’d know it. I am a fool. A fool! The two main minstrels, Mr. Bones and Mr. Tambo, are played by Colman Domingo and Forrest McClendon. BOTH from the original Broadway cast, BOTH were nominated for featured actor Tony awards. I mean. I just had a momentary slip I guess. I was almost surprised to realize that McClendon was playing Mr. Tambo because his accent was sooo weird, so off-putting. I blamed it on the difficulty I’ve seen too much over here, of British actors butchering an American accent, then taken 4 steps further to make it Southern and comical. But he’s American. I guess it just works for the character but I wanted him to stop! The other original cast member was one of my faves – James T. Lane (who is from Philly and is my new friend), who does double duty as one of the boys and as one of the accusers, along with English actor Dex Lee. Even the White Man (or the Interlocutor), sort of running the minstrel show, is played by Julian Glover. Like, huge British actor that some people in the audience came specifically to see. I had no idea.
The main character is Haywood Patterson, a deep, illiterate, and pessimistic young man who based his life on always telling the truth, an ironic commitment here when telling the truth begets further punishment. While he’s sadly not portrayed by (the awesome and superb) Joshua Henry, the original Broadway cast member who was nominated for a Tony, he’s played by Brandon Victor Dixon, who originated the role off-Broadway and who is actually the one on the recording. (Side note: the off-Broadway company got a recording, so it wasn’t deemed necessary for the Broadway production. But now the London cast is getting a recording! Meaning, it’s pretty much the same people now because of Dixon in the lead again…conclusion, poor Joshua Henry.) Dixon was in “Motown: The Musical” last year and was nominated for “The Color Purple” back with ‘Tasia so he’s prettayyyy great. I just don’t know how I missed all this coming in.
We watch Haywood become a natural leader of this group of strangers, who eventually become more like brothers. We watch as one of the other boys teaches Haywood how to read and write. (This scene could have been more touching, but it was written extremely oddly – mostly about boobs and which letters look like them (spoiler: all of them?). It was very out of place.) Haywood is the character you most connect with and feel for, as his vow to uphold truth backfires in this corrupt judicial system, as he loses the chance to see his mother one last time, as he becomes the last one in prison.
I didn’t really just spoil it, saying that the others eventually get out of prison. There’s no happy ending, and it still takes many, many years before the youngest are first freed. As we learn in a sort of epilogue, freedom doesn’t do much, as their lives have already been destroyed. Most take their own lives, actively or passively letting themselves wither away instead of dealing with the world that knowingly did this to them. Haywood, who could have gotten paroled if he lied and admitted the crime, would never abandon his morals and instead died in jail. Yeah it’s a terrible damn story but it’s important to see. At times I actually had flashes of the thought “damn, I wish courts today paid half as much attention to sexual assault cases.” But the court didn’t give a damn about the supposed victims, or they would have actually listened to them when they recanted their false accusations. They just wanted to punish black people. That’s seriously what happened, and not that long ago either. It’s terrifying, and sad, and somehow the musical context enhances its poignancy. At the end, we learn from a movie-style written credit that the governor of Alabama officially pardoned the boys in 2013. Because the musical called attention to his state’s shitty history, not to pardon all the thousands of innocent black people who were and are victimized in similar ways. At least this story, when told in this very effective fashion, can elucidate the struggle that is still occurring. In that way, it’s a must-see.
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Anything 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.
Fun Home Brings Its Magic to London
It’s Theatre Thursday! Today we are talking about the musical Fun Home, which is playing at London’s Young Vic until September 1.
I haven’t been this nervous about a show in a long time. Experiencing the original Broadway production of Fun Home in 2015 was one of the most magical theatrical moments I’ve had. Everything about it was absolute perfection, including the first truly great use of the Circle in the Square Theatre’s setup in the round. I worried that the show would lose some of its power and emotional depth without that original cast that I so adored, without the circular theatre, without the extra tinge of greatness that Broadway musicals tend to have. Fortunately, Fun Home is in good hands at London’s Young Vic theatre, such good hands that I was dehydrated for days from all the crying.
I haven’t been this nervous about a show in a long time. Experiencing the original Broadway production of Fun Home in 2015 was one of the most magical theatrical moments I’ve had. Everything about it was absolute perfection, including the first truly great use of the Circle in the Square Theatre’s setup in the round. I worried that the show would lose some of its power and emotional depth without that original cast that I so adored, without the circular theatre, without the extra tinge of greatness that Broadway musicals tend to have. Fortunately, Fun Home is in good hands at London’s Young Vic theatre, such good hands that I was dehydrated for days from all the crying.
Fun Home is the musical adaptation of Alison Bechdel’s 2006 autobiographical graphic (autobiographical maybe?) of the same name, in which she delves into her childhood and her relationship with her father, who she learned was gay soon after she herself came out, and shortly before his suicide. The musical features Alison at three ages – as an adult, a new college student (Medium Alison), and as a 10-year-old kid (Small Alison). Now age 43, Alison, the ‘lesbian cartoonist’, as she calls herself, is sorting through her father’s old belongings and other mementos from her old house and her family’s funeral home in order to form her graphic novel. The adult Alison, played by a solid Kaisa Hammarlund, is prodded into memories as she looks at these belongings, and the moments from the two earlier stages of her life play out on the stage before her as she remembers them and starts to document them in her cartoons.
Hammarlund’s Big Alison carried the structure of the play well, with the memories eliciting reactions from her ranging from angry to embarrassed to remorseful. Her anger came when we saw her father stopping Small Alison (Harriet Turnbull) from expressing herself as she wanted to, or from her father’s quick temper and, sometimes, rage. Her embarrassment often came from truly hilarious moments of seeing her college-aged self try to sound smart but end up completely mortified. The great thing about getting different and unique incarnations of this show now is that different characters will shine the brightest depending on the cast and the interpretation. On Broadway, the discovery of the extraordinary Sydney Lucas, a one-in-a-million phenom of a child actor, stole the show with her natural, moving Small Alison and her showstopper ‘Ring of Keys’, where she first sees the kind of butch lesbian that feels so right to her. While that doesn’t mean regularly talented child actors like Turnbull do any less of a moving portrait of Small Alison – she was very good and had the audience completely taken – it means that the balance changes. Here, Medium Alison (Eleanor Kane) stood out as the showstopper, especially with her exceptional performance of “Changing My Major”, where her first sexual experience (with Cherrelle Skeete’s wonderful Joan) forces her to be completely vulnerable, uproariously funny (her little jumps!), and so touching all at once. Hers was a stunning performance and the standout of the night.
Well, one of the standouts; it’s a show full of magical moments. Big Alison’s remorse turned into another such moment in an emotionally resonant and brilliant part (of a show that is entirely brilliant and emotional): during the song “Telephone Wire”, when her memory of her last moments with her father shift his focus from Medium Alison to Big Alison herself, implanting herself into the past to try to futilely change it yet again. Bruce’s gaze moving to the daughter he never got to see as an adult is the kind of moment in a play where, if you are human, you’ll start making little yelpy puppy sounds as you try to suppress your overwhelming sobs. The impact of this moment felt real, and a scene that is heartbreaking simply as written takes on new tragic life.
But even though the story is ostensibly about Alison, it’s her father, Bruce (Zubin Varla), who becomes the focus. Varla takes the complex character of Bruce in a different direction from Michael Cerveris, the original Bruce. Cerveris played him much more natural and reserved, so his anger was shocking, his truly cruel comments to his family seeming unforgivable but infrequent. Varla, on the other hand, had crazy eyes most of the time, so his unstable emotional state was evident and it let his rage fly off the handle more. It was clearer, and for longer, how troubled this Bruce was, and even though I think I prefer the more grounded take – the one that sees the ache in an everyman rather than someone who is more obviously troubled – his interpretation was valid and equally moving. His brilliant introduction – letting the audience see how much he values the beauty he sees in the world – before we see how fast he can descend into rage, is so well done, as are his interactions with all the young men in his life (played by a talented Ashley Samuels) especially when contrasted with how he treats his family in similar situations.
As Alison’s mother Helen, Jenna Russell masterfully harnesses her coldness and uses it as a weapon against her family and her own vulnerability. As usual, Helen’s big song “Days and Days” is set up and performed flawlessly, in a truly remarkable bit of songwriting that lets you understand all of her character’s motivations but completely disagree with her. The big change from the show being presented in the round paid off in this scene, when the set of the house changes into a surprisingly larger, lavish one. I was surprised that it didn’t stay in the round, especially since I’ve seen productions in the round at the Young Vic, and since the original director, Sam Gold, apparently directed this production too. But the changes worked, especially in this scene, and it was interesting to see the show presented from a regular proscenium, although Bruce’s final scenes felt a little static.
The brilliant songwriting is really the star of this show, the reason why it resonates and why every inch of it feels necessary and special. Jeanine Tesori and Lisa Kron’s score and book stand with the best of musical theatre. When I first heard some of it, I thought it was a little too simple. But its lack of big belted numbers or traditional musical theatre moments in favor of personal connection and delicate motifs makes it such a singular achievement in telling such an intimate story. Moments that I thought at first were to lift the somber mood, like when Small Alison imagines her family as a happy singing and dancing one like she watches on TV in “Raincoat of Love”, actually had me crying: It’s not a goofy break from the drama; it’s a heartbreaking look at the kind of happiness this poor child wishes she had. It’s forking sad. Okay so “Come to the Fun Home” is still a very silly moment that lets the kids have fun, but it’s followed by a scene that I don’t remember being so harrowing – when Bruce calls Small Alison in and she sees her first dead body. This small moment was riveting, especially with Big Alison’s anger at remembering this moment and her frustration that she’ll never understand her father’s reasons for doing it.
Such precise, flawless writing feels wrong to change, so the few lyric changes I noticed I don’t really understand. In the beginning, Small Alison originally orders her father to play airplane with her and sings “I wanna play airplane/I wanna put my arms out and fly/Like the Red Baron in the Sopwith Camel”. Apparently that’s a reference to Peanuts, when Snoopy pretends to fly on his doghouse. I don’t know anything about the Sopwith Camel or Snoopy pretending to fly in Peanuts but I know the Red Baron, so the line made overall sense to me – she wants to fly like a plane. To quote my girl Tahani, you can get some of these from context. But in this production, it’s changed to “I wanna put my arms out and fly/like Snoopy and the Red Baron”. Is that really a change that helps people get the reference? I feel like you either know that reference or you don’t, so it’s an odd change for me, dog.
But it’s a tiny non-issue with an overall great production of this incredible show. It’s by far the best musical playing in London right now. I love that such a small show about such specific characters feels so universal, and that it’s getting the chance to be loved by a new audience.
AUDIENCE
Since this is the first (only?) show with a lesbian protagonist and it’s heavily about characters’ sexuality, it’s drawing a more diverse crowd that you see in the theatre usually, which is awesome. But it means some possibly new theatergoers are not used to theatre etiquette. When Medium Alison writes home, “Dear mom and dad, I’m a lesbian”, one or two audience members whooped and shouted YASS. Audiences, I get that it’s amazing when you feel represented in art, but if you want to be a part of the action, become an actor. It is not a YAS moment. In fact, there are no YAS moments in this show. And just for everyone’s edification, don’t talk or sing along or bullshit like that in the theatre unless everyone onstage makes it clear that they want you to do so (e.g. during “No Time At All” in Pippin, and during the curtain call of “Mamma Mia!”. Pretty sure that’s it).
Shout out to the one usher at the Young Vic who was READY to snatch cell phones. We could be friends.
Hammarlund’s Big Alison carried the structure of the play well, with the memories eliciting reactions from her ranging from angry to embarrassed to remorseful. Her anger came when we saw her father stopping Small Alison (Harriet Turnbull) from expressing herself as she wanted to, or from her father’s quick temper and, sometimes, rage. Her embarrassment often came from truly hilarious moments of seeing her college-aged self try to sound smart but end up completely mortified. The great thing about getting different and unique incarnations of this show now is that different characters will shine the brightest depending on the cast and the interpretation. On Broadway, the discovery of the extraordinary Sydney Lucas, a one-in-a-million phenom of a child actor, stole the show with her natural, moving Small Alison and her showstopper ‘Ring of Keys’, where she first sees the kind of butch lesbian that feels so right to her. While that doesn’t mean regularly talented child actors like Turnbull do any less of a moving portrait of Small Alison – she was very good and had the audience completely taken – it means that the balance changes. Here, Medium Alison (Eleanor Kane) stood out as the showstopper, especially with her exceptional performance of “Changing My Major”, where her first sexual experience (with Cherrelle Skeete’s wonderful Joan) forces her to be completely vulnerable, uproariously funny (her little jumps!), and so touching all at once. Hers was a stunning performance and the standout of the night.
Well, one of the standouts; it’s a show full of magical moments. Big Alison’s remorse turned into another such moment in an emotionally resonant and brilliant part (of a show that is entirely brilliant and emotional): during the song “Telephone Wire”, when her memory of her last moments with her father shift his focus from Medium Alison to Big Alison herself, implanting herself into the past to try to futilely change it yet again. Bruce’s gaze moving to the daughter he never got to see as an adult is the kind of moment in a play where, if you are human, you’ll start making little yelpy puppy sounds as you try to suppress your overwhelming sobs. The impact of this moment felt real, and a scene that is heartbreaking simply as written takes on new tragic life.
But even though the story is ostensibly about Alison, it’s her father, Bruce (Zubin Varla), who becomes the focus. Varla takes the complex character of Bruce in a different direction from Michael Cerveris, the original Bruce. Cerveris played him much more natural and reserved, so his anger was shocking, his truly cruel comments to his family seeming unforgivable but infrequent. Varla, on the other hand, had crazy eyes most of the time, so his unstable emotional state was evident and it let his rage fly off the handle more. It was clearer, and for longer, how troubled this Bruce was, and even though I think I prefer the more grounded take – the one that sees the ache in an everyman rather than someone who is more obviously troubled – his interpretation was valid and equally moving. His brilliant introduction – letting the audience see how much he values the beauty he sees in the world – before we see how fast he can descend into rage, is so well done, as are his interactions with all the young men in his life (played by a talented Ashley Samuels) especially when contrasted with how he treats his family in similar situations.
As Alison’s mother Helen, Jenna Russell masterfully harnesses her coldness and uses it as a weapon against her family and her own vulnerability. As usual, Helen’s big song “Days and Days” is set up and performed flawlessly, in a truly remarkable bit of songwriting that lets you understand all of her character’s motivations but completely disagree with her. The big change from the show being presented in the round paid off in this scene, when the set of the house changes into a surprisingly larger, lavish one. I was surprised that it didn’t stay in the round, especially since I’ve seen productions in the round at the Young Vic, and since the original director, Sam Gold, apparently directed this production too. But the changes worked, especially in this scene, and it was interesting to see the show presented from a regular proscenium, although Bruce’s final scenes felt a little static.
The brilliant songwriting is really the star of this show, the reason why it resonates and why every inch of it feels necessary and special. Jeanine Tesori and Lisa Kron’s score and book stand with the best of musical theatre. When I first heard some of it, I thought it was a little too simple. But its lack of big belted numbers or traditional musical theatre moments in favor of personal connection and delicate motifs makes it such a singular achievement in telling such an intimate story. Moments that I thought at first were to lift the somber mood, like when Small Alison imagines her family as a happy singing and dancing one like she watches on TV in “Raincoat of Love”, actually had me crying: It’s not a goofy break from the drama; it’s a heartbreaking look at the kind of happiness this poor child wishes she had. It’s forking sad. Okay so “Come to the Fun Home” is still a very silly moment that lets the kids have fun, but it’s followed by a scene that I don’t remember being so harrowing – when Bruce calls Small Alison in and she sees her first dead body. This small moment was riveting, especially with Big Alison’s anger at remembering this moment and her frustration that she’ll never understand her father’s reasons for doing it.
Such precise, flawless writing feels wrong to change, so the few lyric changes I noticed I don’t really understand. In the beginning, Small Alison originally orders her father to play airplane with her and sings “I wanna play airplane/I wanna put my arms out and fly/Like the Red Baron in the Sopwith Camel”. Apparently that’s a reference to Peanuts, when Snoopy pretends to fly on his doghouse. I don’t know anything about the Sopwith Camel or Snoopy pretending to fly in Peanuts but I know the Red Baron, so the line made overall sense to me – she wants to fly like a plane. To quote my girl Tahani, you can get some of these from context. But in this production, it’s changed to “I wanna put my arms out and fly/like Snoopy and the Red Baron”. Is that really a change that helps people get the reference? I feel like you either know that reference or you don’t, so it’s an odd change for me, dog.
But it’s a tiny non-issue with an overall great production of this incredible show. It’s by far the best musical playing in London right now. I love that such a small show about such specific characters feels so universal, and that it’s getting the chance to be loved by a new audience.
AUDIENCE
Since this is the first (only?) show with a lesbian protagonist and it’s heavily about characters’ sexuality, it’s drawing a more diverse crowd that you see in the theatre usually, which is awesome. But it means some possibly new theatergoers are not used to theatre etiquette. When Medium Alison writes home, “Dear mom and dad, I’m a lesbian”, one or two audience members whooped and shouted YASS. Audiences, I get that it’s amazing when you feel represented in art, but if you want to be a part of the action, become an actor. It is not a YAS moment. In fact, there are no YAS moments in this show. And just for everyone’s edification, don’t talk or sing along or bullshit like that in the theatre unless everyone onstage makes it clear that they want you to do so (e.g. during “No Time At All” in Pippin, and during the curtain call of “Mamma Mia!”. Pretty sure that’s it).
Shout out to the one usher at the Young Vic who was READY to snatch cell phones. We could be friends.
