HIGH FIDELITY

WOW!
HIGH FIDELITY

“I just can't understand critics. If a musical isn't completely unique it gets trashed. I read some of the reviews and could not believe what I read. Good Songs, Good Acting, Good Chemistry, Good Creative team, etc, etc, etc. So what was wrong? Well, the answer is … nothing!”

Amazon.com customer Lance J. Hermus took the words right out of my mouth in reviewing the Original Cast Recording of High Fidelity—and for proof that this Broadway flop does in fact do everything right, simply head on down to Fullerton for an out-and-out sensational High Fidelity that puts New York Times Theater Critic Ben Brantley to shame.

Granted, a musical about the owner of “The Last Real Record Store On Earth” may well be TGFB (Too Grungy For Broadway) and ought perhaps to have opted for an off (or off-off) Broadway run. As a matter of fact, High Fidelity probably works best in a venue like Hunger Artists’, hidden inside a Fullerton industrial park and therefore not all that far removed from Championship Vinyl, the used record shop where our antihero Rob and his ragtag band of friends and customers hang out from dawn to dusk.

Even so, with music as eminently hummable as Tom (Next To Normal) Kitt’s, lyrics as clever as those written by Amanda Green (daughter of fabled lyricist Adolph), and a book as winning as David (Rabbit Hole) Lindsay-Abaire’s (based on Nick Hornby’s popular novel), High Fidelity deserved a far, far better fate than a mere month on Broadway, and there ought to have been dozens of regional productions over the past five years, rather than a mere handful before Hunger Artists’ auspicious West Coast Premiere, directed with energy, imagination, and verve by Anthony Galleran.

High Fidelity opens with the introduction of the aforementioned Rob, a 30ish dude whose life consists of “cable and a girlfriend who is pissed off (but she's hot), records that it's taken me a lifetime to amass,” and Championship Vinyl. Assisting Rob in his day-to-day labors are Barry and Dick (“They came as temps. But then they started showing up here every day! It's been four years. They just won't leave.”) As for the threesome’s lives afterhours, Rob’s rent check has just bounced, Barry still lives at home, and Dick stays up all night watching Mary Tyler Moore. Not unexpectedly, their love lives aren’t all that much better. (Rob’s girl holds out, Barry’s inflates, and Dick thinks he had sex once but he’s not sure.)

All this we find out in “The Last Real Record Store,” an opening number so exciting and imaginative that most musicals could only wish they had one half this good. With thrilling melody, rhythm, and key changes coming one after another, Kitt and Green’s humdinger of a song gives us ten of the most exhilarating minutes ever to open a tiny little musical, fills us in on exactly what life inside Championship is like, and promises one heck of an entertaining ride to come.

Rob soon informs us (in one of his many heart-to-hearts with the audience) that a) his girlfriend Laura has broken up with him and that b) if he were to make up a list of his Top Five Breakups, she wouldn’t even make the Top Ten. (Of course we know he’s lying, since it’s clear from the get-go that he and Laura are MFEO.) In any case, regardless of the veracity of his claim, it serves as a pretext for a Musical Number #2, one that nearly matches the first in sheer high-spiritedness, as Rob enumerates his “Desert Island Top 5 Break-Ups,” backed by a quintet of exes who can sing and move as good as they look—which is pretty darned good indeed. (We’ll see more of this “Greek Girl Chorus” as the show progresses, and ingeniously so.)

Rob's story arc, as conceived of by Hornby in his novel and Lindsay-Abaire in his ingenious musical stage adaptation, is far more a journey towards adulthood, towards adult commitments, than a simple boy loses girl, boy gets girl back cliché—and is all the richer for not taking the easy romcom route (though we do indeed follow Rob’s efforts to win Laura back as well as his two coworkers’ attempts at forging lives for themselves outside the shop). Supporting characters include Rob’s ballsy best friend Liz, his new-agey upstairs neighbor Ian (who has a thing for Laura), and Championship Vinyl denizens Middle-Aged Guy, TMPMITW (The Most Pathetic Man In The World), Hipster, and Mohawk Guy.

In addition to their opening pair of showstoppers, Kitt and Green have written a number of terrific follow-up songs, including the joyously rocking “Nine Percent Chance” (these are the odds Laura gives Rob of coming back to him), “I Slept With Someone (Who Slept With Lyle Lovett” (which has Rob nearly jumping for joy to be “sleeping with a rock star. Well, a rock star once removed…”), the power-ballady “Cryin’ In The Rain,” and the soft-rocking “Turn The World Off (And Turn You On).” “Conflict Resolution” crosses over to Heavy Metal territory, and therefore is one I usually skip over on the CD, but with its repeated fast-rewinds performed live by some amazingly dexterous actors, it adds up to a good deal more fun on stage than on disk.

Of course none of the above would matter a whit were Hunger Artists’ intimate staging not blessed with a star-making lead performance by Sheldon Morley heading an all-around splendid cast, a trio of rockin’ good onstage musicians, and designers who make the very most of an obviously limited budget.

About Morley’s performance in The Full Monty a few years back, I wrote, “Sheldon Morley is the first Jerry I’ve seen who truly looks the part. (He) is also an excellent actor,” remarks which explain just two of the reasons he once again merits raves for his star turn as Rob. It’s easy to buy this big, scruffy dude as owning a rundown record shop, loving his 45s more than life itself, and screwing things up with a babe like Tara Pitt’s Laura (just as it’s easy to believe that Laura would fall for this Rob’s big big heart). Effortless at chewing the fat with the audience and never anything less than spontaneous in his interactions with other characters, Morley happens also to have just the right rocker pipes to belt out Rob’s songs precisely the way they should be belted.

Pitt is as lovely and engaging as ever, making the pre-Broadway excision of Laura’s big ballad “Too Tired” all the more regrettable. (Pitt deserves that song, and I would have loved to hear her sing it.) Lindsay Lee Lusk, Andrea Martyn, Katt McLaren, Sandy Moore, and Jennifer Pearce are Rob’s five exes, and as super as they are individually, they are even more terrific as a group, their “girl power” multiplied by five. Martyn doubles to fine effect as Rob’s tough-love bestie Liz, a sweet, sexy Moore also gets to play songstress Marie (the one who slept with Lyle Lovett), and the charming Lusk’s second role is as Anna, a cute nerdette who gives Dick hope that there may be a “a point, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, one percent chance she'll say yes.” As for Dick, Max Obita looks like he could easily have wandered in from a nearby record shop (or video arcade) were it not for his first-rate acting chops and vocals that make you realize, “Hey, the dude is a bona fide performer!” Duncan Hutchinson and Rocky Balboa too are absolutely believable as daily fixtures at Champion Vinyl.

A pair of supporting performances deserve special mention. Jeffery R. Rockey is a hoot and a half as Ian, milking the love guru’s every hippy-dippy moment for all its worth, and Topher Mauerhan, in addition to his bang-up work as Big Bad Barry, makes the show his own for five or so minutes as The Boss himself, Bruce S., in the showstoppingly Springsteenesque “Goodbye And Good Luck.”

Steeve Jacobs (TMPMITW) performs in the production’s excellent onstage three-piece band led by musical director Sarah Weinzetl, and sings a mean Neil Young. Though there’s more “movement” than dancing in High Fidelity, choreographer Katheleen Switzer has her entire cast moving to energetic perfection.

Ashley Martin’s scenic design has the look and feel of a rundown record store, and converts effortlessly and effectively into the High Fidelity’s other locales. Designers Nicholas Saiki (lighting) and Kris Kataoka (sound) get thumbs up for their excellent work, as does Mary Poplin for costumes that are exactly what you’d expect these folks to have bought for themselves. Jessica Kelly is stage manager.

Though High Fidelity may never be able to completely overcome the stigma of its untimely death by Brantley on the Great White Way, it more than merits a long afterlife in regional theater. St. Louis, Chicago, and Washington DC productions have garnered it the kind of positive notices that might have made it a New York hit the first time round. Then again, perhaps High Fidelity was never meant for a Broadway audience, but rather for folks like Rob and Barry and Dick themselves, each of whom would surely give the show a high five of approval. Then again, I’m as big a musical theater fan as they come, and it gets a high five from me too—and who knows? It might even get one from Ben Brantley, that is if he could ever be persuaded to give the show another look-see.

Hunger Artists Theatre Company, 699-A South State College Blvd, Fullerton. Through August 28. Fridays and Saturdays at 8:00. Sundays at 7:00. Special Thursday Night Performance, August 18 at 8:00. Reservations: 714 680-6803
www.hungerartists.com
--Steven Stanley
July 31, 2011
Photos: Thai Chau

MARY POPPINS

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MARY POPPINS

Mary Poppins has soared into Costa Mesa (by umbrella of course), the arrival of the London/Broadway hit the best possible news for Los Angeles and Orange County children of all ages, from today’s kindergartners to the 50&60something Boomers who first fell in love with the 1964 Walt Disney film on which it is based. Heck, you can make that children in their nineties, Mary Poppins having first debuted way back in the 1930s as a series of novels by P.L. Travers.

While film purists may protest the excision of Uncle Albert (and “I Love To Laugh”) as well as Mrs. Banks’ extrafamilial role as “Sister Suffragette,” the 2006 Broadway smash restores the novels’ come-to-life statues and a visit to Mrs. Corry’s gingerbread shop. The majority of the now-standard Sherman Brothers songs remain (“A Spoonful of Sugar,” “Jolly Holiday,” “Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious,” “Feed the Birds,” “Chim Chim Cher-ee,” and “Let's Go Fly a Kite”), with an extra half dozen or so George Stiles/Anthony Drewe creations added to compliment Julian Fellowes’ somewhat darker book, Mary Poppins’ self-congratulatory anthem “Practically Perfect” and the infectious eleventh hour “Anything Can Happen” proving particular joys.

The very best way to enjoy Mary Poppins The Musical is to cast aside any preconceptions you may have from either movie or books and simply enjoy its magical ride.

And what a supercalifragilisticexpialidocious ride it is, this uber-high-end National Tour giving new meaning to “touring production.” No “bus-and-truck” tour this one, with its 11,000-pound Banks House, 350+ lighting cues, 250 complete costumes, and a two-and-a-half day move-in time required for each Mary Poppins stop.

A hit musical must, however, be more than its sets and costumes (though Bob Crowley’s scenic and costume designs are some of the most spectacular you’ll see on Broadway or anywhere else), and Mary Poppins has everything a musical smash must have—hummable songs, unforgettable dance numbers (choreographed here by the masterful Matthew “Swan Lake” Bourne), and performances to rave about, all under Richard Eyre’s and co-director Bourne’s expert directorial hands. Oh, and there’s magic too, and not just when Mary Poppins pulls a roomful of fixtures out of her trademark carpet bag purse.

Pert blonde All-American Steffanie Leigh vanishes inside Mary Poppins’ prim-and-proper brunette (and veddy British) skin, as pretty as a picture and with a voice and acting chops to match. Canadian Nicolas Dromard morphs into Cockney Bert, with a showstopping performance of “Step In Time” that has the triple-threat tap-dancing upside-down from the top of the mile-high Segerstrom Center proscenium—only one of Dromard’s many stellar chimney-sweep moments. Together, Leigh and Dromard make for one of the most enchanting song-and-dance duos since Julie Andrews and Dick Van Dyke first went on a “Jolly Holiday” forty-seven years ago.

Fellowes' book turns the Banks family considerably more dysfunctional that in the film, making George a near absentee father (and victim of his own emotional childhood abuse) and Winifred a former actress who longs to be more than simply an extension of her stuffed-shirt of a husband. Laird Mackintosh and Blythe Wilson couldn’t be better as the not-quite-happy couple, the stage version giving Mackintosh a big solo moment in “Precision And Order,” which turns into a major production number featuring a stageful of bank clerks, and Wilson a heartfelt center-stage turn in “Being Mrs. Banks.”

In supporting roles, Rachel Izen and Dennis Moench make for a terrific comic duo as housekeeper Mrs. Brill and underling Robertson Ay, Bird Lady Janet MacEwen sings a touching “Feed The Birds,” and Josh Assor may well be the most captivating dancing statue ever as Neleus. Michael McCarty is a fine Admiral Boom, though the role gives him far less to do here than in the movie. Alternating as Jane and Michael Banks (considerably naughtier in musical than in film) are Camille Mancuso and Marissa Smoker, and Talon Ackerman and Tyler Merna. Finally, in the scene-stealingest supporting turn of the year, Q. Smith both dazzles and terrifies as Nanny-From-Hell Miss Andrew, a tour-de-force “Brimstone And Treacle” sending Smith’s powerhouse alto into the stratosphere. In smaller roles, Debra Cardona (Miss Lark), Eric Coles (Northbrook), Mark Harapiak (Von Hussler), Eric Hatch (Valentine), Michael Dean Morgan (Park Keeper), and Michelle E. White (Mrs. Corry) acquit themselves with kite-flying colors.

Completing the Broadway-caliber cast in tracks which require Grade A song-and-dance talents (and countless costume changes to book) are Jacob ben Widmar, Kiara Bennett, Elizabeth Broadhurst, Arielle Campbell, Hannah Chin, Anthony Christina Daniel, Tyler Foy, Molly Garner, Eric Giancola, Koh Mochizuki, Chuck Rea (Policeman), Nic Thompson, Rachel Wallace, and Neka Zang. Swings (who may assume ensemble tracks at certain performances) are dance captains Elizabeth Earley and Geoffrey Goldberg, Lisa Kassay, and Sam Strasfeld.

Particular mention must be made of the show’s remarkable production numbers, another feather in the cap of the choreographic genius that is Bourne, who has statues leaping and pirouetting, toys and bankers kicking up their heels, and chimney sweeps tapping and high-kicking like Radio City Rockettes, not to mention the myriad kites flying high above the stage in “Let’s Go Fly A Kite.”

The fluidity of the production’s innumerable scene changes, aided and abetted by Howard Harrison’s vibrant lighting design, bear mentioning as well, as does Steve Canyon Kennedy’s crystal clear sound design. Musical director Daniel Bowling conducts the Mary Poppins orchestra to perfection. Stephen Mear is co-choreographer. Jimmie Lee Smith is production stage manager. The contributions of other creative and technical artists are truly too numerous to mention.

Even at two and three-quarter hours (including intermission), Mary Poppins keeps its youngest audience members every bit as enthralled as are their parents, grandparents, and other assorted adults. Truly in a class by itself, Disney and Cameron Mackintosh’s Mary Poppins is the best kind of family entertainment, i.e. the sort no one is ever too old to love.

Segerstrom Center For The Arts, 600 Town Center Drive, Costa Mesa.
www.scfta.org
--Steven Stanley
July 15, 2011

Photos: Joan Marcus

JERRY SPRINGER: THE OPERA

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JERRY SPRINGER: THE OPERA

Jerry Springer has arrived in Anaheim Hills, and some of the natives are up in arms. Open-minded theatergoers, on the other hand, will be lining up in droves to catch the Southern California Premiere of Jerry Springer: The Opera, a sensational Chance Theater production which once again proves that for controversial, intimate-stage excellence in the OC, nobody does it better than the Chance.

Enraged churchgoers have been flooding the theater’s mailbox with email after email promising eternal damnation for what they call blasphemous Jerry-Show appearances by Jesus, Mary, Adam, Eve, the Devil, and God himself—though someone should have clued them in on the difference between the previous week’s highly protested previews and last night’s Gala Opening Night, which attracted only a lonely-looking pair standing forlornly on the sidewalk overlooking the theater parking lot.

My best guess is that the OC protesters don’t have Jerry’s still-running shock-talk show on their Must See TV lists, or else they would realize that Biblical figures with an ax to grind might indeed find themselves slugging it out amidst shouts of “Jerry! Jerry! Jerry!” on a real life Springer Show.

The brilliance of Jerry Springer: The Opera is its juxtaposition of foul language and even fouler human specimens with gorgeously composed and sung operatic songs. (The show features music by Richard Thomas, book and lyrics by Stewart Lee and Thomas.) It’s not every day that a trashily-dressed soprano hits glorious high notes with “Mama gimmee smack on the a**hole!” or a diaper-clad tenor soars with “I just wanna sh*t my pants.” (If you feel that either of these lyrics, or constant use of the F-word aren’t your thing, then feel free to pass on Jerry. There’ll be plenty willing to fill your seat.)

Did I mention that there’s a production number featuring the Ku Klux Klan alternately tapping and goose-stepping to “This Is My Jerry Springer Moment”?

Since the original London production is said to have featured a cast of thirty-plus accompanied by a fifty-piece orchestra, let me reassure you that even with a considerably smaller cast of nineteen and orchestra of six, the Chance has filled the 50ish-seat theater with thrilling vocals and splendid instrumental accompaniment. Even without a single Equity member in the cast (unfortunately AE’s 99-seat plan does not extend to Orange County), there’s not a weak voice onstage, and each performer has acting and dance chops to match. As for Trevor Biship’s expert direction, it simply couldn’t be better.

Act One features several segments a la the real Jerry Springer show. In the first, a big burly guy named Dwight reveals to his wife Peaches that he’s been cheating on her with her best friend Zandra, then shocks them both with the news that he’s also been having sex with Tremont, a Rubenesque male-to-female pre-op transsexual. After (tongue-in-cheek) commercials, a bearded blond Montel confesses to his girlfriend Andrea that he just wants to poop in his Calvin Kleins with the help of a grown-up Baby Jane. Finally, redneck Chucky learns that his wife Shawntel dreams of becoming an exotic pole dancer who just wants to “f***ing dance,” Shawntel then demonstrating said talent to her mother Irene’s and Chucky’s horror.

As to how Jerry ends up in Hell, well for that you’ll just have to see the show.

Jerry (a spot-on Warren Draper) is virtually the only character who doesn’t sing, though he does come up with some delicious understatements: Dwight (singing): I've been seeing, seeing someone! Someone, seeing someone else! Peaches (singing): What the f**k? What the f**k? What the f**king f**king f**k? Jerry (spoken): Peaches, you seem surprised.

Otherwise, the cast is jam-packed with some of the best vocalists I’ve heard in a Chance production, as rich and powerful as any I’ve enjoyed in larger, more “prestigious” venues.

It’s hard to find enough superlatives to describe the work of David Laffey (Jerry’s warm-up guy and Satan), Jovani McCleary (Dwight and God), Erika C. Miller (Peaches and Baby Jane), Laura M. Hathaway (Zandra, Irene, and the Virgin Mary), Matthew Ballestero (Tremont and the Angel Gabriel), Jared Pugh (Montel and Jesus), Katie Kitani (Andrea and Angel Michael), Kyle Cooper (Chucky/Adam), and Jessie Withers (Shawntel and Eve). Only time and space limitations prevent me from going on and on about each and every one of these triple threats, but I’d be remiss not to salute Withers’ showstopping rendition of “I Just Wanna Dance.” (All that’s missing is one of the song’s irresistible dance remixes.) David McCormick as real-life Jerry Springer head of security Steve Wilkos has a mostly non-singing role, but he gets special mention for the physicality of his performance, including some fight choreography that looks like it must hurt as much as it dazzles.

The ensemble (Travis Ammann, Stephanie Bull, Israel Cortez, Rebecca Fondiler, Kelly Spill, Ryan Spindel, Andrea Paquin, and Nathan Willingham) appear as (singing) audience members and various other characters, and they are all phenomenal.

Vocally, the cast performs to perfection under Mike Wilkins’ impeccable music direction. As for their dance prowess, not all may have been trained dancers when they met choreographer extraordinaire Kelly Todd, but by opening night, all were executing dance number after dance number—including a one-two punch grand finale—as if they’d been tap dancing and high kicking all their lives.

Visually, Jerry Springer: The Opera is a knockout, from Caitlin Lainoff’s thrust stage scenic design, which has us imagining we’re at a real Jerry Springer taping, to Brian S. Shevelenko’s vibrant lighting design, to Lianne Arnold’s imaginative projection design, to Casey Long’s expert sound design, to Julie Wilkins’ wild-and-crazy hair and make-up design, to Chance Dean’s authentic looking fight choreography. Anthony Tran’s costumes deserve special mention for their imagination and trashy flair. Courtny Greenough is stage manager.

You don’t have to be a Jerry Springer lover to love Jerry Springer The Opera, though does help if you’ve enjoyed an episode or two, even though you may not have approved of the panelists’ bad language and behavior. At the risk of raising the ire of the show’s self-righteous protesters, I’d venture to say that their Lord and Savior might well have preferred the show’s open-armed acceptance of all kinds of people to the self-appointed finger-pointing outside the theater.

I daresay most avid theatergoers will be giving this oh-so unusual summer treat a big thumbs up, and its naysayers a different digit of the hand.

The Chance Theater, 5552 E. La Palma Ave., Anaheim Hills. Through August 14. Thursdays and Fridays at 8:00. Saturdays at 3:00 and 8:00. Sundays at 2:00 and 7:00. Reservations: 714 777-3033
www.chancetheater.com
--Steven Stanley
July 9, 2011

Photos: Chance Theater