RSS 2.0 FeedJuly 2009, Cover Stories, Theatre
See you later, elevator
Cole Porter might well have been named Cool Porter. More than 70 years after he wrote some of the finest, wittiest, kickiest music and lyrics in the American theatre - make that in American music - his oeuvre remains instantly recognizable and dreamily memorable.
Cole Porter might well have been named Cool Porter. More than 70 years after he wrote some of the finest, wittiest, kickiest music and lyrics in the American theatre - make that in American music - his oeuvre remains instantly recognizable and dreamily memorable. Porter, like the other greats in American musical letters, from Gershwin to Rogers and Hammerstein, had a knack for lyrics and for rhythms that has disappeared or been devalued or lost sight of, in the quest for something new in a song. Individualism hardly exists anymore, even in hits such as Billy Elliot, where Elton John is more of a name than a contributor. Porter's genius was himself, much like Picasso's or Stravinsky's: only his was more fun.
The nifty Starlight Theatre production of his 1934 musical, Anything Goes (that opened July 13 and runs this week), goes far to remind us how vivid and clear those songs were; moreover, it is another chance to dream how different (and much better) life would be now if rock and pop had not assigned themselves the task of updating the Broadway musical. (From Hair to Andrew Lloyd Weber in several decades is nothing to, well, sing about.)
This production, adapted from the revamped Lincoln Center revival in 1987 (that updated the story and characters and reshuffled the songs), serves as a throwback to the 'Golden Years' of just about everything: romance, gangsters, salty jokes, slapstick, extravagant musical numbers and star power. Starlight's star, Rachel York, a Broadway, film and television veteran, flings herself through the musical, like Glenn Close in 1993's Sunset Boulevard or just about any Patty Lupone vehicle. At times, her role (or non-role) seems unbalanced; but then the character of the nightclub siren Reno was originally played by Ethel Merman, and after Merman everything is an echo anyway.
The story, by P.G. Wodehouse and several collaborators, is an amalgam of 30's shtick. I am not complaining; no one knew how to write a real comic script like Hollywood's fast-working 30's and 40's writers (and Wodehouse was one of the club members; yet he did even more writing for musicals: some 200 lyrics for dozens of shows). The wheels creak, it must be said; even some well-oiled jokes do best when retired to the junk store. (And yes, the Chinese subplot, with the characters talking in Charlie Chan pidgin, must be noted, less, perhaps, for its political incorrectness than for its tired comedy.) But the storyline, about star-crossed lovers Billy Crocker (Jim Weitzer), an assistant to Wall Street tycoon Elisha Whitney (Kip Niven), and wealthy Hope Harcourt (Nili Bassman), scheduled to wed an English aristocrat (John Bolton), who wind up on an ocean-liner voyage, along with the disguised gangster Moonface Martin (Whit Reichert) and the sultry Reno, zips along as intended, after all, as filler between the showcased songs.
Listening to the songs - "You're the Top," "It's De-Lovely," "I Get a Kick Out of You" - in the proper context reinvigorates them. Even if the story feels like one we have seen a thousand times on Turner Classic Movies (not that there's anything wrong with it), moving gracefully between the jokes and the songs revitalizes them. The humor mixed with the smooth martini concoction of rhyming so many different names and words and allusions is a fireworks display that costs nothing except for Porter's wit and resourcefulness.
The actors are a mix of Broadway professional and local talent; but the director, Elliot Wasserman, keeps everyone moving, everything attractive (especially the sets by Michael Anania), every song that should be a showstopper big and happy to please. Rachel York is well paired with Weitzer; even better are Weitzer and Reichert; and best of all is Reichert alone. As a cross between Bert Lahr (who played the role opposite Merman in a 1954 TV version) and a heavy Art Carney, Reichert's Public Enemy Number 13 moves with the gracefulness of a gazelle on steroids. The actor, a longtime St. Louis theatre veteran, sings, dances and generally shmoozes his way into the audience's heart. He, like Bolton, has the timing of a ballet dancer mixed with that of a basketball player: agility times two. Bolton's role gets the biggest laughs; as a traveling Englishman he is on the watch for new phrases, which he almost always mangles ("See you later, elevator," "the rat's pajamas"). Yet when he, too, beaks into song, it is with glorious, humorous, happiness that Cole Porter is still ours.
REVIEW:
Starlight Theatre
Anything Goes
Runs through July 19
4600 Swope Park Road, KCMO
For tickets and information call 816-363-7827 or online at www.kcstarlight.com
Theatre Contributor (Past writer)
Steve Shapiro has been writing about the arts for over twenty-five years. He wrote and broadcast a weekly radio book review on KCUR-FM for ten years, and has contributed to NPR's Morning Edition book segment.
As a contributor to local publications such as KCMetropolis.org, KC Tribune.com, The Kansas City Star, Review, The Pitch, and Helicon 9, he has published essays and criticism on art, books, cinema, theater and the cultural Zeitgeist.
A chapter on the museum architects Frank Lloyd Wright and Steven Holl was published in the anthology, The Sixth Surface: Steven Holl Lights the Nelson-Atkins Museum (2007). On the side, he juggles Dachshunds and is available to moderate book groups.
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