The Addams Family

There are many genuinely crowd-pleasing moments in The Addams Family, now at the Lunt-Fontanne Theater; the performances and the theater craft are notable. Co-designers Phelim McDermott and Julian Crouch produced a spot-on set, enhanced by Natasha Katz’s artistic lighting —but that’s not enough to make the $16 million production work.

The blame is twofold: a sappy plot and staid lyrics. The characters are familiar to legions of fans who love the twisted sense of humor. Rather than showcase the famed Addams’ perversity, the musical is saddled with a silly story. Teenage Wednesday Addams (a notable Krysta Rodriguez) is in love with Lucas (Wesley Taylor), burdened by two straight-arrow parents (Terrence Mann and Carolee Carmello) from Ohio. Wednesday proposes both families meet — and they do.

The “Where Did We Go Wrong” and “One Normal Night” numbers are an opportunity to send up all parents’ frustration with adolescent rebellion — whatever your political stripe. However, the show’s comic possibilities aren’t sufficiently mined. Nathan Lane as Gomez and Bebe Neuwirth as Morticia are terrific, but even these top-notch headliners can’t overcome the dopey construct.

The second concern is Andrew Lippa’s lyrics. He apparently got hold of a rhyming dictionary and wouldn’t let go. How else to explain pairing “waiting” with  “lactating.” The big problem, though, is the second act, in which each major performer gets a number. It is closer in spirit to a musical revue than a Broadway blockbuster. For example, Uncle Fester’s (a well-played Kevin Chamberlin) second-act song, a paean to his love for the moon, is delightfully staged. And though its off-beat sweetness seems closer to the Addams’ spirit, it has nothing to do with the plot.

Similarly, the finale’s “Tango de Amour” should allow Morticia and Gomez to let loose with passion, but doesn’t. Bebe Neuwirth, whose torso fairly bursts with energy against the rigid corset of the costume, gets one opportunity to strut her stuff, but is constrained by Lane’s dance weakness and the distracting movements of the background dancers. (The Addams Ancestors, a singing-dancing chorus, are as haunting as soap bubbles.) There is sizeable talent and genuine fun onstage — from the leads to Jackie Hoffman’s Woodstock-era Grandma — but this Addams lacks bite.  —Debra Griboff

Photo credit: Joan Marcus

Zero Hour

Oversized humor was a Zero Mostel trademark. The big man, boasting a big personality, was known for his Broadway turn in Fiddler on the Roof and the film The Producers.  In 1943, Life magazine called him “just about the funniest American now living.” But despite numerous successes, the road was paved with heartache. Jim Brochu stars as the volatile Mostel in Zero Hour, a one-man show at the DR2 Theater.

Mostel got his break in the 1940s as a successful comic at Café Society, a Manhattan nightclub; he became an actor by happenstance. Accompanying his wife to her acting class, Mostel was prompted by the teacher to improvise. That fortuitous encounter led to an extraordinary career—spanning the absurdist play Rhinoceros to the seminal Tevye in Fiddler on the Roof (which earned him a Tony) to film and TV work. While talented, he had a reputation for dominating any production.

The play opens in 1977, a few months before Mostel’s death. He has taken refuge in his favorite place, his painting studio, aptly designed by Josh Iacovelli. Interrupted by an unseen, unheard reporter, Mostel churlishly agrees to an interview. “I act in order to keep myself in paint,” he explains. 

Brochu’s performance is a credit to both him and Mostel. He looks, sounds and moves like Zero Mostel. He captures his gestures, the sweep of his passions and swings of emotion. The meat of the show is Mostel relating the persecution of writers and actors in the early 1950s by the U.S. House of Representatives’ Un-American Activities Committee.  Most appalling, his old friend Jerome Robbins was a cooperative witness. Mostel, named by another informant, was blacklisted. Ironically, he was forced to work with Robbins years later on Broadway.  —Debra Griboff

Photo credit: Michael Lamont

South Pacific

 South Pacific, hasn’t seen a revival on the Great White Way for 60 years. The current, near-perfect incarnation at Lincoln Center is as upbeat as Gypsy is dark. Rodgers and Hammerstein’s musical takes place on a South Pacific island during World War II. While South Pacific, staged in 1949, has a decidedly post-war optimism, it also makes a plea for racial tolerance.

When nurse Nellie Forbush (Kelli O’Hara) falls for Emile de Becque (Paulo Szot), a French planter who has fathered two children by a native woman, she’s forced to confront her own prejudices. Similarly, when handsome Marine lieutenant Joe Cable (Matthew Morrison) falls for a Polynesian girl (Li Jun Li), he laments that he cannot bring her home. In the moving “You’ve Got to Be Carefully Taught,” Rodgers and Hammerstein address the issue of bigotry head-on, a daring move at the time.

At heart, South Pacific is a glorious paean to romance. Can anyone hear the lush “Some Enchanted Evening” without being seduced by the promise of destiny? Kelli O’Hara and Paulo Szot have real chemistry, though her emotional ambivalence is beautifully rendered. Bartlett Sher’s direction is lively and sensitive, and the music sublime. And the exquisite lighting by Donald Holder makes us all long for Bali Ha’i. –Fern Siegel 

The 39 Steps

For Hitchcock fans, The 39 Steps was an early thriller – and introduced one of the director’s favorite themes: The innocent man trapped by circumstance. In the hugely entertaining 1935 film, Robert Donat, wrongly accused of murder, races from London to Scotland to stop an international spy ring – and clear his name. En route, he meets an icy but pretty blonde. The twists and turns, the droll humor, even the handcuffs, are vintage Hitchcock. In the Broadway incarnation, direct from the West End, The 39 Steps is played for laughs, rather than dramatic highpoints, though it adheres to the original script. In the current rendition at the American Airlines Theater, the show is a salute to inspired staging and wonderfully versatile actors.

In short, three of its four cast members play a dizzying array of parts. The 39 Steps is inventive and entertaining, but its cast would be greatly aided by eliminating the intermission, which stops the action cold. For all its craftsmanship – and there’s plenty to trumpet – The 39 Steps is lightweight fare.  At least by Broadway standards. 

It would be better-suited to an extended run at a prominent off-Broadway theater. If you know the film well, and it’s a fair guess many theatergoers do, the added bonus is The 39 Steps’ homage to Hitchcock’s film canon. It cleverly pays verbal and visual homage to Vertigo, North by Northwest, The Birds, et. al. The sets and costumes are by Peter McKintosh and direction by Maria Aitken, both fans of modernism. They make the most of a few props. The use of doors and windows is a minimalist delight. Every cliché is sent up; every moment is mined for humor.

That The 39 Steps works as a comedy whodunit is thanks, in no small part, to the film’s ageless charm. As Richard Hannay, the wronged man, Charles Edwards (the one cast member from England), is perfect for his role as a Thirties goodhearted chap.

The real stars are Jennifer Ferrin, who plays several different women so well it’s hard to believe it’s the same actress, and Arnie Burton and Cliff Saunders, who don endless roles with lightning speed and agility.

The 39 Steps, for all its ingenuity, is a theatrical trifle. But it is a reminder that sometimes, less is more. –Fern Siegel

PHOTO: JOAN MARCUS 2008

Mary Poppins

If you think you know Mary Poppins, think again. Disney made her famous in the 1964 movie, and children—and adults everywhere—secretly wish that they, too, could live, for even a few moments, at 17 Cherry Tree Lane, London—at least, while the indomitable Poppins is in residence. Mystical and magical, she is, again, happily in our midst.  

Mary Poppins, the musical, now playing at the New Amsterdam Theatre, is a marvel of invention and ingenuity. Based on the novels of P.T. Travers, the current rendition of Mary Poppins is darker and more insightful than the Disney incarnation. The Australian-born Travers, who wrote the first of eight Poppins novels in 1934, set it in the Depression. Hollywood moved it to the Edwardian era, and there it stays—with a catch.

 The musical, an English import, is hugely entertaining, brilliantly staged and mythical. Like the archetypal hero, Mary (a pitch-perfect Ashley Brown) mysteriously appears from the outside to fix a dysfunctional family. The Banks household—father, mother and two naughty children, Jane and Michael (a noteworthy Matthew Gumley)—is unhappy. Rather than function as a loving unit, they each inhabit their own sad worlds. They need to be made whole—individually and collectively—and that is Mary’s genius. 

The book by Julian Fellowes, coupled with the original score and wonderful new songs by George Stiles and Anthony Drewe, delves into the nasty recesses of the English soul. Here, Bert the chimney sweep (a remarkable Gavin Lee), is the core. He neatly narrates the tale, underlining the difference between external appearances (feigned upper-class solidity) and internal anxiety (the Banks’ emotional lives). Indeed, Mary Poppins is a strong indictment of Edwardian child-rearing and the horrors of emotional repression. Before something can be fixed, we need to acknowledge it’s broken.

Cue Mary, who enters from on high (the allusion is obvious) to restore order out of chaos. Equal parts discipline, gruff cheer and a refusal to submit to conventional wisdom, ensure her success. En route, however, she takes us, and the Banks family, on a whirlwind journey through London—both real and imagined. The sets are clever and extraordinary, the score a delight. Richard Eyre’s direction and Matthew Bourne’s choreography define entertainment; Mary Poppins is a site for the eyes and a salve for the heart. A thoughtful, joyous musical with top-of-the-line actors, effects and music, Mary Poppins is a triumph.    –Fern Siegel

 PHOTO: JOAN MARCUS
 

25 Questions for a Jewish Mother

I laughed. I cried. I thought Judy Gold, a stand-up comic who won two Emmys for writing for The Rosie O’Donnell Show, had something to say. The big surprise was that the comic who hosts HBO’s At the Multiplex With Judy Gold is also a talented actress.

Now playing at the St. Luke’s Theatre, 25 Questions for a Jewish Mother, intertwines Gold’s own story with Jewish women she interviewed nationwide as part of a five-year project. What begins as a simple questionnaire blossoms into a moving chronicle of women’s lives. From secular to Orthodox, Holocaust survivors to a Chinese convert, 25 Questions explores the nature of belief and observance in the 21^st century.

The catch is—Gold, in a one-woman show, portrays each of the women she interviews. It’s a simple, but engaging format. She breaks from her hilarious standup routine at the mike, where we learn how she came out to her mother, the omnipresent Ruth Gold, her struggles with her girlfriend, and subsequent birth of her two sons: Henry and Ben. She then walks stage right, sits in a chair, and assumes the identity of the women she is interviewing.

It’s a clever device. First, it allows us to meet the women as they are, with strength, fragility, passion and uncertainty intact. Second, it showcases Gold’s gift for accents, memory and moment. The women are exceedingly honest—and their stories are occasionally heartbreaking.

The funniest bits, however, are the ongoing battles between Gold and her mother. Their relationship is loving, but fraught with anxiety. When the 8-year-old Judy is late coming home one day, she arrives to find the police in her kitchen—and her mother serving them rugelah. Ruth’s over-protectiveness is comic to us, but stifling to her daughter, who believes her real mother, Barbra Streisand, will one day rescue her from her middle-class New Jersey existence.  It’s not until the grown-up Judy discovers the secret behind her mother’s fears that she understands what drives her—and in that moment, the open wound begins to heal.

In truth, both Gold and her mother are natural narcissists. Each fights for center stage. That Gold can turn her tale into a successful play (and award-winning career) is to her credit. She’s has a gift for understanding the crazy ironies in daily life and her honesty is stunning. 25 Questions for a Jewish Mother is the like theatrical therapy. It’s filled with laugher and sadness, but this is one emotional ride, but you’ll be glad to take.  –Fern Siegel 

PHOTO: CAROL ROSEGG

Jersey Boys

It’s a long journey from singing on the mean streets of New Jersey to the Rock ’N’ Roll Hall of Fame, but Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons did it. One of the most successful vocal groups of the 1960s, The Four Seasons scored a series of smash hit singles between 1962 and 1967, featuring the piercing falsetto voice of Frankie Valli). But the boys weren’t a one-note wonder. During their 40-year career, the group sold more than 100 million records. (Thanks to Bob Gaudio, one of the quartet and the songwriting genius behind their success.) Now playing at the August Wilson Theatre, “Jersey Boys” chronicles their story—and this super-entertaining musical roller coaster doesn’t miss a beat. 

“Jersey Boys” is, first and foremost, a showcase for their music. From “Sherry” to “Walk Like a Man,” the songs, dance steps and sleek suits defiantly capture an era and a mind-set. Frankie Valli (born Frankie Castelluccio) is a young Italian guy who, like his friends, sees two options in life: the Mob or singing. It is, after all, 1950s Newark, New Jersey, and “Jersey Boys” makes clear The Four Seasons never wholly escape their roots, personally or professionally. Their music speaks to working-class people. The intellectuals, Gaudio notes, listen to The Beatles. No matter. In 2005, the entire audience is riveted to the story, a rags-to-riches saga that could only happen in America. “Jersey Boys” examines the corruption of the music business and the personal toil success takes with unflinching honesty. At heart, “Jersey Boys” is a cautionary tale about friendship and fame. The music endures, but the price is high.

Of course, the back story is what gives the production emotional texture. It’s the performances–and you’d swear John Lloyd Young, who plays Valli, is channeling him. Ditto for the other three Seasons: Christian Hoff as Tommy DeVito, Daniel Reichard as Gaudio and J. Robert Spencer as Nick Massi. If you missed the original act, these four do a superb job of recreating the sass and sizzle. Thanks to Sergio Trujillo’s choreography, which is dazzling, and Des McAnuff’s direction, which is pitch perfect, “Jersey Boys” sets the standard for tribute musicals. Like “Beatlemania,” it feels as if you're  watching the real thing. Since we can’t, “Jersey Boys” is the next best thing.  –Fern Siegel

Wicked

"Wicked" is wicked cool. It is one of those big, bold Broadway shows that wraps a provocative theme inside a visual treat. "Wicked," now playing at the Gershwin Theatre, is a prequel to "The Wizard of Oz." Inhabited by wizards and talking goats and magical spells, we’re not in Kansas anymore. Ironically, Kansas is still with us. The conceit of "Wicked" is that the fantasy world resembles our own - it’s filled with love and kindness, as well as jealousy, oppression and deceit. They just have better costumes.

          "Wicked" is the story of the Wicked Witch of the West, better known as the nasty crone who wants to do away with poor Dorothy. The "Wizard of Oz" makes a stark contrast between good and evil; "Wicked" is more nuanced. It neatly tackles the nature vs. nurture argument and discovers that the witch (whose real name is Elphaba) got a bad rap. "Are they born wicked or do they have wicked thrust upon them?" the musical asks. In a world where spin substitutes for truth, and propaganda doubles as principle, "Wicked" is unabashedly on the side of the victim.

          The witch as victim? You bet. Elphaba (Idina Menzel) is a victim of circumstance. The eldest daughter of the governor of Munchkin Land, she has the misfortune to be born green. Shunned by parents and her peers, she relies on her sister, Nessarose (Michelle Federer), and the kindess of strangers. Sent to a school to learn sorcery, Elphaba discovers she has real talent (shades of "Harry Potter.") Madame Morrible (Carole Shelley) takes young Elphaba under her wing, much to the consternation of Glinda (Kristin Chenoweth), the perky, popular blonde. Initially snippy, Glinda and Elphaba become friends - and therein lies the first of several truths: Look beneath the surface. In fact, one of the charms of "Wicked" is the bonding between the women — a positive message about female friendship. And they stay friends, even when a dashing young man (Norbert Leo Butz), "it’s painlesss to be brainless" he croons, enters the picture. 

          But all is not happy in the land of Oz. The animals, which walk and talk, are being persecuted. The Wizard of Oz (Joel Grey), who seems so benign at first, has a scary agenda. It falls to Elphaba to oppose him. And we all know what happens to dissidents who challenge the status quo. Those who defend civil liberties are often painted as lunatics; those who cheerfully oppress are cast as pillars of society. We witnessed the wizard’s feet of clay in "The Wizard of Oz." Here, his machinations and manipulations are pronounced; his smear tactics worthy of J. Edgar Hoover.

          Kudos to Winnie Holzman who wrote the book and Gregory Macguire, author of the original novel, for mining such depth in a tale that cannot be told enough. They are aided in their efforts by Eugene Lee’s inspired, eye-popping sets, a clever blend of Victorian whimsy and machinery, Susan Hilferty’s costumes, which are endlessly theatrical, and Kenneth Posner’s exquisite lighting. Their craftsmanship highlights the considerable talents of the cast: Chenoweth and Menzel have genuine chemistry, each is exemplary in their roles; together, they are magic. Butz never puts a foot wrong, Shelley’s vocal delivery alone is a winner and Grey’s avuncular demeanor believes the evil within. The one drawback — and it’s a biggie — is the music. The talented Stephen Schwartz, who gave us "Pippin" and  "Godspell," has fashioned an unmemorable score. There are a few fun songs, but they don’t gel as a whole. A shame, because "Wicked" is a worthy production.

          If you’ve ever wondered how the Scarecrow, Tin Man and Cowardly Lion came to be, "Wicked" is a must. It revisits a classic, but adds context. Every action has an equal and opposite reaction. There is no such thing as a random event. Often, the back story is the main event. 

  Cast Glows in "Chicago."
(Note: Some cast members may have changed since review originally appeared.)

Chicago Ambassador Theatre. - 219 W. 49 St.
    

    "Nobody’s got no class. There’s no decency left." If you credit this sentiment as another of William Bennett’s digs at society, think again. These immortal words are uttered by a 1920s murderer and her prison warden in the sassy, brassy, Tony-award winning musical "Chicago," now playing at the Ambassador Theatre.

    When this deliciously satiric Kander and Ebb musical opened in the ’70s, it was deemed too dark and cynical for such feel-good times. A murderer as a star? A slick lawyer playing fast and loose with the truth? Audiences shuddered. Well, it’s ’90s America now, and in a post-OJ world, "Chicago" (with a new cast) is brilliantly on target.

    The plot concerns one Roxy Hart (Karen Ziemba), who took her lover’s rejection to heart. Some women would just write the bum off; Roxy prefers a good old-fashioned shootout. Luckily, her hapless husband can raise the money for a smarmy, read successful lawyer. While attorney Billy Flynn (Alan Thicke) is busy concocting an outrageous scenario to free his client, the women who keeping Roxy company in Cook County prison, namely one Velma Kelly (played by the divine Ute Lemper) and matron (Marcia Lewis), shower us with a jazzy, razzle-dazzle of sight, sound and motion.

    Staged in a Brechtian manner, complete with hard-chiseled dancers whose bodies provide all the scenery we need, "Chicago" explores the unholy alliance between crime and celebrity with sinister glee. The story is hugely entertaining, the dancing is first rate and the score is fantastic. Lemper, who plays her role with "Cabaret"-esque precision, boasts a sultry voice and singular style. Thicke is both slick and seductive as Flynn, while Ziemba, an accomplished singer and dancer, lacks that aggressive, in-your-face quality Ann Reinking originally brought to the role.

    Still, the ensemble, one of the hardest working on Broadway, is riveting. Sure, criminals may be the flavor of the month, but who says we can’t enjoy their antics? "Chicago" reminds us that deception is as American as apple pie. —Fern Siegel