Let
me tell you why we who were there to witness its first network broadcast knew
that the 60s TV sitcom based on cartoonist Charles Addams' The Addams Family was brilliant ten seconds in. Because that
combination of composer Vic Mizzy's
main theme opening motifÑyou know it, it sounds like the last four notes
of a major scale in a low register, a triplet pickup into a tonic
downbeatÑand the double finger snap it leads to, performed by that odd
looking family, standing there in live, unmoving tableau, staring at
usÑtold us in one compact burst what the tone would be: Deadpan
Grotesque. The macabre would not only be taken for granted, but rendered
normal. AndÑnever articulated but understoodÑthe Normal world Out
There would be the anomaly. We'd always be rooting for the Addamses to retain
their nonconformity because the deeper metaphor was that they spoke for the
iconoclast in all of us. Well, most of us. If you knew the Charles Addams
cartoons (most of them one-panel sight gags), you were not let down; the series
was a perfect development. If you didn't know the toons, and discovered them
afterward, the artfulness of the expansion was arguably even more amazing.
For
adapting a franchiseÑor beloved characters whose continued existence or
adventures amount to a franchise in spiritÑis, you see, all about tone,
about finding the theatrical evocation of the attitude that sustains interest
and affection. And one has to be precise about it, because if you miss the
mark, the audience always knows: the fans, for reasons that need no explaining;
and newcomers because the misfire fails to seduce.
Many
were those, for example, who saw the Broadway revival of You're a Good Man,
Charlie Brown and wondered why
the creatives had bothered revisiting show so aggressively childish, few
seeming to realize how thoroughly the revival distorted the tone of the
original Peanuts strip as well
as Clark Gesner's gentle,
subtle interpretation of it when his 1966 musical debuted off-Broadway. Key to
the distortion was its tendency to exploit surface details rather than
psychological and thematic underpinnings, and to explain all the humor that had
previously been slyly implicit (albeit perfectly clear). (I have to tell this
anecdote: Clark Gesner was an adorable big teddy bear of a man, with seemingly
kind words for everyone, and IÕd gotten to know him a bit via The Dramatists
Guild. I think he became a huge proponent of the DG because his Charlie
Brown deal did not offer his work
adequate protectionsÑelse the Õ96 revival could not have contained all
the doctoring and ÒimprovementsÓ by others without his approval. HeÕd come to
see a show of mine and the subject of the revival, then current, came up. I
asked him what he thought of it, and he said, after a pause, ÒWell, IÕm just
glad people are still enjoying the show.Ó I said, ÒOh, come on. All of that
monkeying with the material, all the nuance and subtlety gone, all the jokes
force-fed and explained? Are you really that philosophical about it?Ó Another thoughtful beat
and he said, ÒIt really bothers you that much?Ó I said, ÒYes!Ó And then very quietly, as if heÕd never copped to
it before, he said, ÒMe too.Ó Then I said: ÒHow come it wasnÕt you doing the
rewrites if they wanted new material so badly?Ó Again, quietly: ÒNo one asked
me.Ó)
And
The Addams Family musical does pretty much the same thing (it may also be no
coincidence that it shares its composer-lyricist in common with the Charlie
Brown revival, Andrew Lippa;
resume type casting perhaps, as if the Charlie Brown gig made him the go-to guy for cartoons). It
hasn't got enough of a grip on the deadpan acceptance of macabre as normal, so
it has to default to sitcom standard: In the book by Marshall Brickman &
Rick Elice (of Jersey Boys) Wednesday Addams (Krysta Rodriguez) has grown into a young woman (with a nod toward
weirdness, she retains a broody personality: call it Gothic Lite) and she's
fallen in love with Lucas (Wesley Taylor) a "normal" boy from a rich, conservative family. And the
young couple want to get married. His parents (Terrence Mann, Carolee Carmello) are coming to visit the Addamses on their home
turfÑthose Addamses of course being parents Gomez and Morticia (Nathan
Lane and Bebe Neuwirth), Uncle Fester (Kevin Chamberlin), Grandmama (Jackie Hoffman) and younger brother Pugsley (Adam Riegler). (As the script would have it, by the way, their
Baroque house of Lovecraftian decor, at periodic unidentified intervals,
appears, Brigadoon-like, out of the mists of Central Park, a bit of mythology
that has never previously been associated with anything Addams. Not that the
creators of the musical shouldn't add to the lore, but this evocation of things
that are unequivocally supernatural as opposed to inexplicably
oddÑdeclarative rather than suggestive, a choice the creative makes throughout
[the chorus are flat-out defined as the ghosts of Addams ancestors]Ñis
among the tone "tells" that bespeak a misunderstanding of the Addams
imprimatur or an unwillingness to trust it.) Anyway, Wednesday's request to her
parents is not to act weird during the evening of her potential in-laws' visit.
Now
there's an even bigger
violationÑthe notion that Wednesday realizes her family is weird. (It's
also one that doesn't entirely track, as she will sing about her problem during
a scene in which her "background" activity is, quite literally,
torturing younger brother Pugsly [who, amazingly, hasn't aged commensurately
along with his sister] on a limb-stretching device. Is weirdness a conflict for
her or isn't it?) And how familiar is the scenario? Isn't that the basic
premise of La Cage Aux Folles?
Isn't the notion of "normal" daughter from a darkly weird family more
Munsters than Addams? And didn't even Marilyn Munster fully accept her parentsÕ
eccentricities?
The
score by Andrew Lippa operates in pretty much the same way. Because it's not
rooted in an authenticity of tone (and because it isn't helped by an attenuated
storyline too slender to yield enough numbers that seem organic and truly
necessary) it often defaults to special-material type numbers that magnify
sidebar issues out of proportion (i.e. Morticia cheering herself up with a
softshoe song about how Death is just around the corner; Fester singing a
wistful ballad about his unrequited love affair with the moon). The songs are
perfectly competent but, again, not perfectly Addams.
And
that's why the musical is such a misfire. Not because it's dull (it isn't), nor
because it doesn't have enough polish and showbiz reflex to entertain (it does?
sort of?); but because itÕs compromised by the creative teamÕs seeming
sensibility mismatch to the franchise and (to all appearances at least) not
having done the investigative homework that would have made even this daffy
universe resonate with its audience. (By contrast, the creative team of yet
another comic-based musical, Annie, never lost sight of their source materialÕs
Depression era origins, and understood that their tale, however fanciful, was
metaphor for the optimism in tough times that preserves the American Dream.
It's not a deep profundity, but it's enough to strike a deep chord.)
Under
the credited/uncredited dirction of Jerry Zaks (billed as creative consultant above original
director-designers Phelim McDermott & Julian Crouch [of Shockheaded Peter] who became absent from the process in the wake of
trouble on the road) the performances are as fine as they can possibly be.
Nathan Lane's Gomez doesn't possess the gleaming dance of madness that shone
behind the eyes of TV's John Astin, but he makes the most of the character he's
been given, a concerned father with a tendency to find light humor in dark
notions. (He also makes the most of the evening's best joke: after Morticia
complains about the excessive behavior of "your
mother"ÑGrandmamaÑhe puts his hands to his head and exclaims
with amazement, "I thought she was your motherÉNo, really!") Bebe Neuwirth does her best to infuse persona
into the scriptÕs confused and ultimately underwritten characterization. Kevin
ChamberlinÕs Fester is an exuberantly delightful homage to Jackie CooganÕs TV
portrayal. Jackie HoffmanÕs Grandmama is equally exuberant, but in concept and
delivery seems more an homage to the SimpsonsÕ cat lady. Terrence Mann and Carolee Carmello flail
about nobly for purchase in the under-conceived, clichŽd roles of the
conservative parentsÑWesley Taylor a little less so as their son. And as
Wednesday, Krysta Rodriguez makes the most of a strong belt voice to make the
most of a ÒsleeperÓ role (and to be candid, the structural ÒleadÓ of the
plotline) that I suppose could elevate
her to higher prominence. Zachary James finds his own agreeably wacky approach to the looming butler Lurch,
perhaps wisely avoiding a Ted Cassidy imitation because, well, no one can
imitate that cavernous growl anyway.
The
design elements, including some unexpected puppetry effects by Basil TwistÑironically but unsurprisinglyÑhit all
the right marks.
The
biggest irony, perhaps, though, is that the show opens by quoting those opening bars of the Mizzy theme.
Not enough of them, I think, to be legally indebted to his estate (we never get
into the actual theme song, just the intro), but certainly the audience is in
instant recognition bliss, and dutifully snaps fingers in the right place,
expectations high.
And
as the saying almost goes, thereÕs a broken heart for every snap on BroadwayÉ
Not incidentally: HereÕs a YouTube link to the TV series pilot episode:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bjr88r2FRhc&feature=related
And hereÕs one to
an interview with composer Vic Mizzy about the theme song. Note his
particular directive that the finger snap be Òlackadaisical.Ó
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LwkufehxKEs