SUNDAY IN THE PARK WITH GEORGE
Music and Lyrics by Stephen Sondheim
Book by James Lapine
Directed and Choreographed by Eamon Foley
Axelrod Performing Arts Center
Reviewed by David Spencer
I write this on Wednesday, March 20, 2024—and I write quickly and in brief because as of tonight, there are only seven more performances (through the end of the week) of a revival (of sorts) of Sunday in the Park With George at the Axelrod Performing Arts Center in Deal Park NJ, a co-pro with the youngish Grind Arts Company. And in dashing it off to be timely, I write assuming ymost of ou have some foreknowledge of what the classic 1983 Sondheim-Lapine musical is about.
The approach, conceived by director-choreographer Eamon Foley endeavors to imbue what is, necessarily, a physically fairly static show—centering around the creation and impact of a painting, with every dramaturgical and musical element reflecting its artists pointilistic technique—with a good deal more choreographic movement.
The idea’s a little suspect, as the show isn’t really built for that; but surprisingly, Mr. Foley’s way into it comes from an organically considered place, as pointilistic as the material he’s supporting. In terms of human movement, he employs as small troupe of ballerinas in differently hued tights, each representing one of the colors on Seurat’s palate. And in numbers like “Color and Light” their interplay with Seurat goes some way to making characters of the colors as well. Scenically, Foley (and his designer, Ryan Howell) keep things as spare, using stylized rehearsal ladders to represent trees, towers and…well also Seurat’s ladder, as he works on his giant (and to us invisible) canvas. And there are a few scenic surprises I won’t spoil. (But I’ll say that great-grandson George’s Act Two Chromalume [Lighting: Paul Miller, sound: Ian Wehrle] is impressive and convincing.)
The net result is still experimental. A little of the ballet stuff goes a long way, and after a time seems earthbound (in part because almost all of it happens on the stage floor, and any sense of using levels is severely limited because the only elevation is provided by the ladders). And I’m not entirely sure the abstract “black box” spareness of the physical production conveys the show with absolute clarity to those who don’t know it going in. One’s mileage may vary.
Yet, Foley’s careful not to bend the material out of shape or just put directorial mitts on it because he can. In delivering tone, staging and casting—and he has indeed assembled a brilliant cast—Foley’s production, taken as a whole, is an homage to librettist-director James Lapine’s original. His intent is not to reinvent the wheel; just to reimagine the treads a bit.
And the cast is, per above, Broadway calibre (and a number of them Broadway veterans) all the way. Graham Phillips is the best, most precise George I’ve ever seen, aside from Mandy Patinkin; his vocal range and his handling of the emotional dynamic are close to iconic without being in Patinkin’s shadow. And while it’s easier to cast Dot/Marie well, it’s still pretty rare to find someone who can redefine it; but this production has that in Talia Suskauer. Taller, edgier, with more-than-usual comic timing—again, though, without moving an inch off the correct tonal path. This is not the kind of thing I would usually say with my critic hat on, but I knew Steve Sondheim well enough to state without any hesitation, he would have loved them both.
Whether the regional production is worth the commute from midtown and/or environs may depend on how well you already know the show, how compelled you are to see what seems a still-developing but interesting new approach, and how much the thrill of seeing new-star turns in that context appeals. But if you can get to it relatively easily, certainly if you’re local to it, and almost certainly if you’ve never seen the show performed live, lovingly and capably, and ever had a yen to…or if you’re a potential transfer co-producer mindful of the fact that Merrily just recouped…it’s a rare opportunity you likely won’t regret.