Tag: Matt Raftery
I Love You, You’re Perfect,
Book and Lyrics by Joe DiPietro
My One and Only
Written by Peter Stone and Timothy S. Mayer
Joseph and the Amazing
By Andrew Lloyd Webber and Tim Rice
Holy Rollers, Batman!
|Marriott Theatre presents|
|Guys and Dolls|
|Written by Frank Loesser
Directed and choreographed by Matt Raftery
at Marriott Theatre, Lincolnshire (map)
through March 27 | tickets: $40-$48 | more info
Reviewed by Lawrence Bommer
Damon Runyon knew Broadway like the beat of his heart—from its sewers to its gospel missions. Those in fact are two of the exotic locales in Guys and Dolls, the always lovable, inexhaustibly right 1950 musical that Frank Loesser, Jo Swerling and Abe Burrows concocted from Runyon’s delightful short stories. Collected by Loesser in 1932, those good-hearted, slang-filled tales of Broadway sharpies, floozies, high rollers, suckers, and the frustrated reformers who tried to clean up their act are still well worth the read.
For those who don’t know this merry musical, Guys and Dolls traces the very opposite attraction of gambler Sky Masterson for Sister Sarah Brown, a naïve Salvation Army lassie: An unlikely couple, by show’s end the two feel just right together. Another off-beat romance pairs Nathan Detroit, organizer of New York’s "oldest established, permanently floating crap game," and Miss Adelaide, a dimly-lit showgirl frustratedly engaged to Nathan for 14 years, who has her famous, constant cold to show for it.
Joined by such richly-named urban denizens as Harry the Horse, Benny Southstreet, and Rusty Charlie, they all return to full and happy life in this Marriott Theatre revival. If in songs like "Sit Down, You’re Rockin’ the Boat" and the title hummer, Frank Loesser found a savvy musical equivalent to Runyon’s wonderful oddballs. Director Matt Raftery has his gritty-rich equivalents too, notably Jessie Mueller as adenoidal Adelaide ("a person could develop a cold"), a wackily evasive Rod Thomas as her hilariously allergic-to-marriage Nathan, and leather-lunged George Andrew Wolff as Nicely-Nicely Johnson, a crap shooter who improbably finds religion on a bet.
Abby Mueller shows why Sarah is such a rich role: In her "I’ve Never Been in Love Before" and her inebriated "If I Were a Bell" she acts her way through songs that say it all. As her gambling man with a soul to be saved, suave and handsome Brian Hissong brings to "I’ll Know" and "Luck Be A Lady" a rich, unforced baritone that’s pretty persuasive. Playing Sarah’s Samaritan/Salvation mentor, Roger Mueller makes much of his tender "More I Cannot Wish You" and John Lister brings hometown conviction to Big Julie from Chicago (apparently the only thug in New York who carries a gun).
Picturing the period perfectly, Tom Ryan’s urbane set nicely set off the fedoras and loudly colored, wide-lapeled suits that costume designer Nancy Missimi contrasts with the chorines’ pink fluffery. Combine these with this cunning cast and Raftery’s crisp and unconventional choreography and you’ve got a show to lift anyone from the winter doldrums.
An ardent Arden blooms beautifully
|Chicago Shakespeare Theatre|
|As You Like It|
|Written by William Shakespeare
Directed by Gary Griffin
at CST’s Courtyard Theatre, Navy Pier (map)
thru March 6 | tickets: $44-$75 | more info
Reviewed by Lawrence Bommer
Through disguise or intrigue, Shakespeare’s driven lovers test each other until they finally earn their fifth-act wedding. In As You Like It, an unconquered forest is the neutral playground for the romantic reconnoiters that will bind the exiled lovers Rosalind and Orlando. In this shelter for simple innocence, artificial privilege defers to natural merit.
If love, joy or melancholy were to vanish from the world, you could reconstruct them from Shakespeare’s merriest and wisest comedy. The play’s genius is its artful dispersion of the good and, later, bad characters from the corrupt court to the enchanting trees of Arden. There the Bard imagines the perfect play–and proving ground for Rosalind, strategically disguised as the bisexual cupbearer Ganymede, to test her Orlando by teaching him how to woo the woman he takes for a man.
Sensing how Rosalind’s high spirits and good humor could overwhelm even this teeming forest, Shakespeare balances her natural worth against the snobbish clown Touchstone, the darkly cynical Jaques and the sluttish goatherd Audrey. By play’s end every kind of attachment–romantic, earthy, impetuous and exploitive–is embodied by the four (mis)matched couples who join in a monumental mating.
All any revival needs to do is trust the text and here it triumphs. Vaguely set in the Empire era, Gary Griffin’s perfectly tuned three-hour staging moves effortlessly from the artificial wood façade of the bad Duke’s cold palace to Arden’s blossom-rich, Pandora-like arboreal refuge. Over both the city and country hangs a mysterious pendulum, tolling out the seconds without revealing the time.
But then time stands still here: The refugees in these woods have been displaced by the pursuit of power. Very good, then: It gives them all the more leisure for four very different couples to reinvent love from the inside out with all the unmatched and dynamically diverse eloquence that the Bard could give them,
Griffin is an actors’ director and he’s assembled an unexceptionable ensemble as true to their tale as their wonderful writer could wish. Though a tad older than Orlando is usually depicted, Matt Schwader delivers the non-negotiable spontaneity of a late-blooming first love. Above all, he’s a good listener and here he must be: Kate Fry’s electric Rosalind fascinates with every quicksilver, gender-shifting mood swing, capricious whim, resourceful quip or lyrical rhapsody. Fry also plays her as postmaturely young, a woman who was happy enough to be a maiden but won’t become a wife without a complete guarantee of reciprocal adoration. All her testing of Orlando as “Ganymede” is both flirtatious fun and deadly earnest. It would be all too easy to watch only her throughout and see this again for the other performances.
The contrasting characters are a litany of excellence, with even the supporting actors attractive despite any lack of lines. Kevin Gudahl’s noble exile of a banished duke, Matt DeCaro’s elaborately evil one, Phillip James Brannon’s flippant and almost anachronistic clown Touchstone, Chaon Cross’ pert and well-grounded Celia, Patrick Clear’s dignified bumpkin, Steve Haggard’s infatuated Silvius and Hillary Clemens as his less than adorable Audrey, Dennis Kelly’s venerable Adam—these are masterful portrayals drawn from life as much as literature.
Shakespeare’s most brilliant creation is the anti-social Jaques, who darkly balances the springtime frolic of Shakespeare’s unstoppable love plots. Oddly social as he waxes with misanthropic melancholy, Jaques is cursed to see the sad end of every story: He can never enjoy the happy ignorance beginning and middle. Ross Lehman gives him the right enthusiastic isolation. He’s dour but never dire.
Arden is a forest well worth escaping to and never leaving. The most regretful part of the play is happily never seen, when this enchanted company must return from these miracle-making groves to the workaday world. But that’s just how the audience feels leaving the Courtyard Theatre, reluctantly relinquishing so much romance.