MR. SATURDAY NIGHT
Book by Billy Crystal, Lowell Ganz and Babaloo Mandell
Music by Jason Robert Brown
Lyrics by Amanda Green
Directed by John Rando
Starring Billy Crystal and David Paymer
Nederlander Theatre
Official Website
Reviewed by David Spencer
Mr. Saturday Night is the new musical based on the 1992 movie about a comic in his twilight years, Buddy Young (co-librettist Billy Crystal, also the film’s co-writer and director recreating his role). Buddy, now reduced to playing gigs in old age venues (where the audience still remembers his network show from the mid ‘50s), suddenly given the chance for a comeback.
The challenge?
Like a lot of the old guard from that era, he’s not the easiest cat to deal with. As the story plays out, we see the effect this has, and has had over the years, on his loving wife (Randy Graff), his shy older-brother manager (David Paymer, likewise retreating his film role, for which he got an Oscar nomination), his neglect-feeling daughter (Shoshana Bean)…and the young, rookie agent assigned to him (Chasten Harmon)…wet behind the ears about the comedy game, but who learns fast. (A multitude of other roles are played by Jordan Gelber, Brian Gonzalez and Mylinda Hull, who round out the cast. By which I mean the entire cast. In terms of onstage bodies, Mr. Saturday Night may be the smallest big musical ever (notwithstanding those two-handers, The Act and I Do! I Do!).
What seems to undercut the drama of the premise is that in the musical Buddy simply isn’t as difficult as he’s made out to be, despite being a self-involved perfectionist. His daughter seems more whiny than legitimately mis-parented, and his objections to gigs that make him shoot under his own par seem entirely warranted. (I don’t remember the film clearly, but some quick research suggests it’s darker—or perhaps I mean less sentimental.)
On the other hand: It’s easier to root for a guy who’s mostly right. Even when he’s wrong being right. Because it typifies the perpetual struggle of the smartest guy in the room that would otherwise stifle him.
But here’s the real saving grace.
The damn thing is just funny. The script, co-written with Crystal’s original co-screenwriters, Babylon Mandel and Lowell Ganz, has more wham-zam, high octane jokes than any since Mel Brooks & Thomas Meehan’s for The Producers; and the tuneful and entertaining score, music by Jason Robert Brown (who also orchestrated), lyrics by Amanda Green, is of course more craftily integrated than Brooks’ wedge-open/drop-in “special material” stuff. Not that there isn’t some “special material” here too, but, you know…craftier. And better crafted.
Billy Crystal is a take-no-prisoners comic in the classic tradition as himself, so playing one with a slightly harder edge isn’t much of a stretch. But you don’t come to Mr. Saturday Night to see him stretch. The rest of the cast are his match for leaving an impression, and the mutual “feed” of straight lines and jokes is grand. And without spoilers, I’ll say that the denouement has one of the best, most cathartic “lookback” lines I’ve ever heard. (A “lookback” is what veteran comedians call the device of revisiting a prior bit in the manner of a leitmotivic reference.)
Oh, and there’s no better musical theatre director for delivering funny than John Rando. He knows how to exploit the drama for real stakes, trust his inherently funny actors, and let the comedy take care of itself without artificially pumping it up.
One more caveat. Not sure how big it is. And understand, it comes from a 67 year old musical dramatist weaned on Jewish humor and Jewish comics, whose most recent show was The Apprenticeship of Duddy Kravitz. I’m conspicuously of the tribe, by birth and disposition.
Mr. Saturday Night is a show with a very Jewish sensibility. Like, throwback to the ‘50s sensibility. And yes, of course, some of that’s baked into the premise. Buddy Young is a stand-in for the likes of Milton Berle, Sid Caesar, Phil Silvers, Red Buttons…but stepping into his universe from the outside world of 2022 still seems a bit like being reality shifted; not in the sense of storytelling, but in the sense of worldview synchronicity. I wish I could explain it better than that. The larger point, the simpler point, is that it may not be for everyone; I know a few—a few—for whom it wasn’t.
But I loved it.
Proceed as you will from that.