Reviewed by David Spencer
The very difficult thing about
reviving a "concept musical"-which can be loosely described as one in
which underlying theme and physical presentation are inextricably linked to
content-is that the original production is always the one in which all hands
were creating the collective gestalt; in which the writers, the designers and,
overseeing all, the director, were making a very particular and intricately
assembled statement. And thus also creating a template. To vary from the
template, to put a new spin on the material, almost inevitably bites a revival
on the ass, because the intention of the musical is as vital as its book, music
and lyrics; and revisionism doesn't sit easy.
But
I've seen it work. Only rarely, but enough times to reveal how it's possible.
The
trick is, the director has to start by honoring the original intention. Doesn't
mean he can't add to it, further clarify it (if he can), amplify it or, without
distortion, paraphrase it. Doesn't mean he can't even-albeit with the greatest
of care-comment on it, in the sense of acknowledging the passage of time and
the maturity of audience sensibility...when appropriate. But honoring that
intention and understanding it at a gut level is key.
Because
then you can take the next step: which is building the edifice anew from the
same foundation. This is important not only for preserving the integrity of the
musical, but for the involvement of audiences to whom it will be new. Say what
you will about John Doyle minimalist revival of Sweeney Todd (and my
on-the-record opinion fell on both sides of the fence), it's fatal flaw was the
assumption of familiarity, which left countless audience members confused and
dissatisfied, wondering what the hell everyone else was jonesing about.
With
regard to the revival of Sunday in the Park with George, care of the Roundabout
Theatre Company at Studio 54-an import from London, replete with its original
stars and an American supporting cast-it has to be acknowledged that director
Sam Buntrock has achieved something of a small miracle. In dramatizing the
world of art, and in particular, throughout Act One, circa 1885, George
Seurat's creation of his revolutionary pointillist masterpiece "A Sunday
Afternoon on the Isle of La Grande Jatte," the Pulitzer Prize-winning 1984
musical by Stephen Sondheim (music and lyrics) and James Lapine (librettist and
original director) is highly dependent upon a production that tracks not only
the emotional life of the main characters, but the gradual assemblage of the
painting's elements, and it has to do both coherently. Since Sunday is not
particularly a plotted musical, but a character study made barely linear by the
fact that its events occur chronologically (and Act Two focuses on George's
great-grandson, a conceptual artist trying to make his own mark in 1984), this
is not easy to do. Because on top of everything else, you have to maintain
dramatic tension while making a painter's gradual effort seem like something
energized and dynamic enough to power a musical.
But
as it turns out, Buntrock is not merely a theatre-baby, but a television
veteran, and at that one who has spent years producing animations for
commercial purposes and the BBC. So where the original '84 Sunday cleverly
added scenic elements on cutout flats that moved in and out on tracks, popped
up from the floor, floated down from the ceiling, representing sections of the
Seurat canvas, Buntrock offers a new-millennium equivalent-projected computer
animations that literally bring Seurat's style and progress to life. These also
work magnificently in Act Two, when the "present day" George reveals
his Chromalume #7, here realized as a magnificently retro homage to 80s-style
abstractionism.
All
this said, the conceptual soul of a musical is nothing without the actors to
pull it off, and here too, Buntrock has cast to perfection. And while it's
impossible to eradicate the memory (or the cast album indelibility) of Mandy
Patinkin as the Georges, and Bernadette Peters as Dot (mistress to the first)
and Marie (grandmother to the second), Daniel Evans and Jenna Russell
nonetheless manage to stamp the roles with marks that are just as right, but
never beholden. In this production it's very clear that each character is
pushing the boundaries of his or her emotional limitation-it's not a new theme
in the piece, but Buntrock is emphasizing different aspects to tease it more
consciously to the surface-and the leads offer some magnificent new values and
nuances. Mr. Evans' is a portrait of artistic courage and emotional fear; he
seems to be a man who believes he knows how far he can go before breaking, yet
longs to discover that he may be wrong. And Ms. Russell, as ever the goad for
him to move those extra degrees, must herself risk heartbreak as a consequence
of exposing need. Vocally they are expert and affecting interpreters of
Sondheim's complex score.
Judging
from the cast album of the London production, its first supporting cast seems
to have been younger, in keeping with a staging which started life in a small,
120-seat house, moved to a 700 seater and only thereafter to a large house. On
Broadway, fully mainstreamed, the cast members who should be (or at least
sound) more mature and experienced are, and among the notables are such
distinguished performers as Michael Cumpsty, Mary Beth Piel, Jessica Molaskey,
Ed Dixon and Alexander Gemignani. Alongside an equally proficient younger
generation of performers such as David Turner, Santino Fontana, Stacie Morgan
Lewis, Brynn O'Malley and Jessica Grove-among others-they make for a fine
ensemble, every bit the equal of the original.
Finally,
there are the new orchestrations for the reduced group which has followed every
iteration of this production. Since Michael Starobin's originals were fairly
piano-centric and not conceived for a large group (as I recall, it was
something like 11), Jason Carr has for the most part been able to preserve the
score's grace and sensitivity with only five: piano, synth keyboard, violin,
cello and woodwinds. I only felt a lack in the Act Two number "Putting it
Together" -it may have been a sound-design lapse, but I rather think he
hasn't quite captured its frenetic pulse (though the message comes across,
albeit not with breathless consistency).
This
revival gets it right, whether you're in the market for a hugely satisfying
revisit or a cathartic introduction. And if it's not precisely a hat where
there never was a hat...it's a new model that holds its own next to the
classic...
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