"We can’t stay here, honey, we gotta go on…"

Let it be known. I love Shirley Booth. Her films were too few and far between; and she is largely forgotten by many today save for those who remember the TV series Hazel. However, it should be Booth had an exemplary career onstage (from 1925-1970):

Liz Imbrie in the original company of The Philadelphia Story
Ruth Sherwood in the original company of My Sister Eileen
Bunny Watson in the original company of The Desk Set
Leona Samish in the original company of The Time of the Cuckoo

That isn’t even taking into consideration her musical theatre career which started with A Tree Grows in Brooklyn in 1951 (where she sings the classic “He Had Refinement” – the delivery on the cast album is so definitive you’ll never want to hear anyone else do it) and continued a downward spiral through By the Beautiful Sea and the flops Juno (a personal favorite) and Look to the Lilies.

The role for which she will be most regarded is that of Lola Delaney in William Inge‘s Come Back, Little Sheba. Booth created the part in the original Broadway production and would later recreate it for film opposite Burt Lancaster; she would become the first person to win the Tony and Oscar for the same role. Watching Booth is an unmitigated joy. A shining example of a character actress, Booth’s distinctively nasal voice, her radiating warmth and stellar range turns the film version of Sheba into an acting master class. (If you have not seen this film and are still reading this, you really should be on your way to Netflix now). Booth evokes that kind of soulful and loving reaction that is reserved mostly for beloved aunts and grandmothers. You know what I mean.

How do you describe Lola Delaney? In certain ways she reminds me of my mother: incredibly talkative, always friendly to everyone she meets and willing to talk about everything. That’s about where the similarities end. Lola is basically trapped in her marriage to Doc, her recovering alcoholic husband who is driven back to the bottle by the seemingly virginal boarder, Marie that lives with them. Marie’s a little ho. She adores the Delaney’s but she is carrying on with the muscular and lascivious Turk while all but engaged to another guy back home. She functions as a surrogate daughter for the childless Lola and Doc, but she also inadvertently wakes the demons surrounding their marriage. Basically, it’s as though they’ve settled, but Marie reminds them both of their lost youth and innocence in their own ways. By the play’s end, so much that has been left unspoken is – and as a couple must learn to cope and go on with their lives.

Not much happens, but it’s a marvel to behold. Especially by S. Epatha Merkerson in the Broadway revival. Lola is, aside from being charming and endearing, also a character of deceptive simplicity. She isn’t written with great histrionics of many other characters of the era, in fact there is an innate honesty in the way that Inge created his character. In fact many of her earthshattering moments are when she isn’t speaking at all. Merkerson’s performance is so genuine that you never felt you were watching an actress perform, but a lonely housewife managed to wander onstage and we became a part of her life, albeit for two hours. And more importantly, you never once would think you were looking at Anita van Buren, the formidable police lieutenant she’s portrayed on Law & Order for more than a decade.

There is a brilliantly constructed sequence in the first act that depicts Lola’s life after her husband has gone to work and Marie has left for school. In the first pause after she is alone, just the way she looks around the room while slowly rubbing her hands down her waist speaks inordinate volumes. Then she encounters the new mailman, whom she invites in for water and inundates with small talk. Similarly, she invites the milkman in as well immediately following. Both cases, she is desperate for kindness and kinship, the warmth and neediness that is there because Doc is complacent but emotionally distant. With the postman, she delivers a rapid-fire monologue just for the sake of conversation that leaves him wanting to leave; but the remnants of the coquettish flirt of her youth manage to win him over. Same for the milkman; whom she is even more successful for admiring his athletic physique. By the end of both brief sequences, she has won them over. This scene plays importance during the denouement where Lola is too distracted to see the mailman seal a letter and place it in the mailbox (a fulfillment of an early promise) or appreciate the milkman’s photo display in the health and fitness magazine. Yet it displays to the audience the kind of positive impact Lola’s innate goodness has on others. Not to mention how she befriended her next door neighbor Mrs. Coffman, whom at first she suspected of killing Sheba, but during the violent drunken climax, is first on hand to help Lola.

I’m loathe to reveal more of the plot since the piece isn’t quite the chestnut you’d expect. There are certain elements that could be considered archaic, but the play is unexpected in many ways. And for that, you should treat yourself to a quick read of the script, or better yet, watching the film adaptation.

The show was woefully a limited engagement (that closed on 3.16). If you got to see this actress at her peak, count yourself among the lucky. If you missed it, more’s the pity. Let’s hope S. Epatha Merkerson comes back to the boards as soon as possible.

Well, maybe next year…

With the recent glut of Sondheim revivals on Broadway, where is the full-scale (quick! someone throw garlic on John Doyle) revival of A Little Night Music? Possibly the loveliest of Sondheim’s scores, it’s one of the more accessible shows that he ever composed, with a smashing book by Hugh Wheeler and those rich orchestrations by Jonathan Tunick. My goodness, folks, perhaps LCT can bring this in when South Pacific closes? It just feels strange that to think we’re on our way to a revival of Merrily We Roll Along before this gem. I vote for Emma Thompson as Desiree and Angela as Madame. (And if Thompson were to do it as rumored for the Menier Chocolate Factory, Patricia Routledge as Madame). Enjoy this clip – one of the all-time treasures – the original, and definitive, Desiree Armfeldt, Miss Glynis Johns, recreating that famous ballad (so mercilessly butchered by pop and cabaret singers who hardly get the point of the song).

Happy Birthday, Tessie O’Shea!

Tessie O’Shea was a Welsh music hall performer who became immensely popular in the West End. Her signature song (capitalizing on her weight) was ‘Two Ton Tessie from Tennessee’, and henceforth was known affectionately to many fans as “Two Ton Tessie, ” a performer with an infectious smile, endless warmth and a clarion voice that could soar with the best of them. She made her Broadway debut in 1963 in the original cast of Noel Coward‘s final musical The Girl Who Came to Supper, which starred Jose Ferrer and Florence Henderson. Adapting Terrence Rattigan’s The Sleeping Prince, a play about an American chorus girl who arouses the desires of a Prince Regent during the coronation of George V in 1911 London, the production received negative notices for attempting to ape the highly successful My Fair Lady.

One the shows pros – and structurally, one of its cons – was creation of the role of Ada Cockle, a fish and chips peddler in the heart of London, for O’Shea, whose sole purpose was to deliver a 15 minute song cycle of music hall numbers (that ultimately didn’t advance plot or character)*. However, audiences and critics adored O’Shea and her song-cycle, and for those showstopping 15 minutes in the first act, she would receive the Tony award for Best Featured Actress in a Musical. The show itself couldn’t overcome the negative reviews and box-office drop-off (1963-64 was one of the richest seasons in the history of the American musical, with Hello, Dolly! as the toast of the town, and other memorable shows such as She Loves Me, High Spirits, 110 in the Shade and Funny Girl) and closed after 112 performances at the Broadway Theatre.

The score is rather pleasant. Typical of Coward with some operetta and pastiche materials and, as always, his witty lyrics. Ferrer acquits himself well for a poor singer. But it’s Henderson and O’Shea who get the best of the material. Henderson had two choice ballads, but also had a 10 minute showcase in the second act in which she delivered a one-woman abridgement of her character’s musical The Coconut Girl. (Much like “The London Medley” in the first act, “The Cocoanut Girl” was strictly peripheral to the story, but also brought down the house). I have a minor quibble about the latter: if Mary Morgan is so good that she can sing, dance and act the entire show by herself, then why isn’t she the star of the show, or at least the star’s understudy? But, it’s a minor quibble and a joy to hear Henderson take on the multi-octave send-up of period musicals.

O’Shea also appeared as the matriarch in the 1966 failure A Time for Singing, a sung-through musical adaptation of How Green Was My Valley. While a quick failure, the musical contained a magnificent and soaring musical score, thankfully recorded, albeit highlights. She got to lead several numbers, most notably the rousing title song. The show played 41 performances in 1966, and also starred Shani Wallis and, in his Broadway debut, George Hearn.

Many of you might recognize her from her appearances in the films Bedknobs and Broomsticks and The Russians Are Coming, The Russians Are Coming. Enjoy this entertaining lady at the top of her form.

PS – What the hell kind of accent was that, Ed?

Mendacity

Went to see the revival of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof this afternoon. It was an extraordinary experience, as the Broadhurst was completely sold out and the audience was alive and kicking. Truth be told, this is my first Wednesday matinee since I saw Urinetown on, would you believe it, Wednesday March 12, 2003.

I was fascinated by the mixed critical response. The ways in which they were divided only made me want to see the production more. Many critics singled out one of the four leads as the chief asset of the play; making you wonder if they saw the same production. I thought that it was a decent production; well staged, well-acted. It could have used some tightening and reigning in at points, but the experience was never ultimately hindered. In fact, my only problem was the tendency for broadness. The ever-youthful Anika Noni Rose of Caroline, or Change is all grown up as the sexually frustrated Maggie the Cat. Rose is alluring, sensual and really manages to convey her character’s sincerity. Phylicia Rashad and James Earl Jones are forces of nature as Ida and Big Daddy. Rashad storms onstage during the first act like whirling dervish and you just can’t help but adore her. Her third act arc is beautifully realized with pain and humor. Jones is having more fun than should be allowed by law – and he makes no attempt to hide it. Big Daddy is the scene-stealer of the piece; he gets the bawdier jokes and has the most dynamic character arc. When he’s raunchy, he is RAUNCHY, but is incredibly poignant in the second act when confronting Brick for the truth behind his problems. Terrence Howard made an impressive stage debut with a subtly nuanced turn as Brick. I’m hoping that he continues to look for stage work as he could amass an impressive body of theatrical credits; and become an even more stellar stage actor in the process. Giancarlo Esposito and Lisa Arrindell Anderson are Gooper and Mae (Sister Woman), the conniving brother and sister-in-law, who are characters straight out of melodrama, and go overboard far too often.

The change in the characters’ race adds a fresh perspective on a classic work; it is also bringing out a larger African-American audience, who were the majority of the audience at this afternoon’s performance and were thoroughly engaged. The audience as a whole had an energy that may have surpassed the high-octane charge onstage. What surprised me so much was the amount of laughter that has been the response. I’m not sure it was directed as such; I think it just happens. We’ve grown used to hearing shocking and depraved things on TV, the news, etc. that our sensibilities have softened. The frank talk of sexual desire and homosexual overtones that shocked audiences in 1955 (and had to be toned down for the highly entertaining film adaptation of 1958) doesn’t have the same impact today. Our tendency nowadays is to laugh at dysfunction rather than let it shock us. A couple of times I felt uncomfortable – laughter when Brick was chasing Maggie around the bedrom with the crutch and during the candles exchange between Ida and Big Daddy (Rashad is heartbreaking in that moment, I might add). Later on at dinner I thought more about that: the characters and themes at August: Osage County are much more dysfunctional and shocking than anything in Cat and the audiences are howling even more at that one. Just the way things are. And that’s okay. It’s fun to be at a matinee crowd that wasn’t saddled with students or elder theatre patrons. This performance was alive on and offstage and that kind of energy just fuels the fun factor in such an experience. If not the perfect production of the play, it’s a highly entertaining and engaging experience.

And it might be insidious to add, but Tennessee Williams sure writes fantastic and memorable dialogue. Always a good time.

Imogene Coca performs "Repent"

Imogene Coca originated the role of Mrs. Letitia Primrose (a role Mildred Natwick turned down for being too salacious), the religious fanatic from the lunatic asylum in the screwball musical comedy On the Twentieth Century. This highly entertaining number was her one solo in the show in which she instructed the audience on the only way they could find salvation: to “Repent.” The musical opened in 1978 at the St. James starring Madeline Kahn, John Cullum and Kevin Kline. Directed by Hal Prince, with music by Cy Coleman and book and lyrics by Comden & Green, the musical is an adaptation of the farce Twentieth Century, most famous for its 1934 film adaptation with John Barrymore and Carole Lombard. The show is a treasure: the two leads parallel Kiss Me Kate in that they must be able to sing with near operatic quality, but they must also be funny (not to mention the mammoth egos of the leading characters). The show is about a desperate theatre impresario trying to make a comeback with his former leading lady/ex-lover, who has gone on to Hollywood stardom. The score is phenomenal and the cast recording is a must have, in spite of the fact they recorded on a day when Kahn was experiencing vocal problems. (Oh, but what an overture and what a great listen).

(Kahn would depart the company after two months, the specifics of which are still partly cloudy. Understudy Judy Kaye became a star replacing her in the lead role. Sarah, Noah and I were privileged enough to see Kaye sing “Never” at the Theatre World Awards a couple years back and she could still play the role at 60). The show won 5 Tony awards including Best Actor (Cullum), Best Feat. Actor (Kline), Best Book, Score and Scenic Design (a celebration of art deco that audiences cheered as much as the show itself).

The musical played 460 performances and has only been revived in NY under the guise of an Actor’s Fund concert starring Douglas Sills, Marin Mazzie and Joanne Worley.

The Great American Musical Returns!

Patti LuPone officially returns to Broadway tonight in the latest revival of the musical Gypsy playing the St. James Theatre. As we are well aware, this is a transfer from the Encores! Summer Series concert that played the City Center last July. The production has transferred, company and all. (Save for Nancy Opel, who is currently starring in the national tour of The Drowsy Chaperone. Lenora Nemetz returns to the Great White Way after an extended absence as Mazeppa and LuPone’s stand-by).

La Môme

Though I was pulling for my personal favorite Julie Christie to win at this year’s Academy Awards, I was in no way disappointed in the selection of the gorgeous and talented French actress Marion Cotillard for her portrayal of Edith Piaf in La Vie en Rose. It’s a tad bit unusual as far as biopics are concerned as it doesn’t follow a solid through line. The film shows her life from early childhood to her death from liver cancer at the age of 47, but non-linear; almost a puzzle piecing together her past with her present. The film is extraordinary because of Cotillard and her magnanimous portrait of the famed chanteuse. As is the case with many Oscar winning performances from bio-pics (Reese Witherspoon’s overrated rendering of June Carter Cash a notable exception), there is a transformation at which you can do nothing but marvel. However, the prothesis aside (though seeing the frail and aged Piaf near death is jarring), Cotillard finds the humanity behind the legend, showing us that in spite of off-stage drama that colored her personality and aura, she was a passionate performer with an unending need to sing. (When she turns to her friend on her deathbed and knowingly asks “I’m never going to sing again, am I?” you are absolutely heart-broken). I do have to comment on Cotillard’s physicality. She has every gesture from the posture to the “singing through the hands” trademark down pat. I also wanted to comment: Edith Piaf was 4’8″. Marion Cotillard is about 5’7″ though you’d never know it from watching the film; she’s that convincing.

I didn’t know that much about Piaf prior to seeing the film, but have become fascinated. She is, in essence, the French Judy Garland (or was Garland the American Piaf?) She lived a torturous and brief existence, booze soaked and drug addled, mixing a powerful mezzo belt with the fire and intensity of an artist’s soul. The daughter of a street singer and an acrobat, she spent several years of her childhood being raised in her grandmother’s brothel. (A fascinating sequence; also, Piaf was struck blind due to infection, the religious prostitutes raised money to send her on a Pilgrimage to St. Thérèse de Lisieux). The superlatives applied to what will become Cotillard’s most famous role have all but exhausted the thesauri in the world. You’ve read the reviews and I won’t add to them. The accolades and awards are deserved; and Marion is a treasure to behold. Taking us through the dimensional world of a struggling insecure artist who’s temper and alcoholism are juxtaposed with moments of such vulnerability that all you want to do is hug Piaf. (It is during these moments where I feel Cotillard is channeling Giuletta Masina’s Gelsomina from La Strada, which is an extraordinary achievement that lesser actors couldn’t begin to fathom). The film, though doesn’t end just with her death, it is interspersed with her world-premiere performance of another signature song “Non, je ne regrette rien” (which translated means “No, I regret nothing”). Superb.

Trivia for the musical fans out there, Piaf’s close friend and composer Marguerite Monnot (played in the film by Marie-Armelle Deguy) who wrote the music for many of Piaf’s major pieces (most notably “Hymne à L’Amour,” with lyric by Piaf) became world-famous as the composer of the delightful musical comedy Irma La Douce which, composed in 1956, became the first French musical since the operettas of Offenbach to achieve world-wide popularity.

See the movie. Rejoice in the music. Marvel at Marion Cotillard.