By James V. Ruocco
Who's that woman?
I know I know that woman,
So clever, but ever so sad.
Love, she said, was a fad.
The kind of love that she couldn't make fun of
She'd have none of.
Who's that woman.
That cheery, weary woman
Who's dressing for yet one more spree?
Each day I see her pass
In my looking-glass--
Lord, Lord, Lord, that woman is me!
Those lyrics belong to Stephen Sondheim's iconic, much-loved 1971 musical "Follies" which is currently being revived at Torrington's Warner Theatre under the direction of Michael Berkeley ("Hello, Dolly!" "Billy Eliott"), choreographer Donna Bonasera ("A Chorus Line") and musical director Willard C. Minton ("Evita," "Company").
It's an inspired work of love, inspiration, chutzpuh , nostalgia and pathos that follows the original blueprint by Sondheim and playwright William Goldman, but alters, cuts and changes some of the dances, completely reinvents the characters of Hattie Walker, Stella Deems and Carlotta Campion, deletes Max Deems, Vincent/Young Vincent, Vanessa/Young Vanessa from the story completely and reduces the song-and-dance team of Emily and Theodore Whitman to a complete afterthought.
Some of it works, quite splendidly.
Some of it is completely wrong, but nonetheless, remains very inspired, dazzling and inventive.
Some of it makes you cry "wrecking ball."
Some of it is as good as the original 1971 Broadway musical, the 2001 revival and the recent 2012 incarnation that starred Bernadette Peters, Ron Raines, Jan Maxwell, Elaine Page and Danny Burstein in the leading roles.
And one of the leads on the Warner stage is actually much better than the trio of performers who played the same part on Broadway.
That said, let's quickly, move on.
Stella Deems also gets a Warner Theatre makeover. Originally, this character was a plain, dumpy, fat, unattractive, middle-aged showgirl, shocked at the passing of years and shocked at the older image of her once-glamorous self, as revealed and lamented in the bittersweet, angst-ridden "Who's That Woman?" For this "Follies," Stella is fit, gorgeous, stylish and sunny. The versatile, magnetic Susan Kulp looks and acts as if she just spent a week or two at some Palm Springs resort and spa. She sings beautifully. She dances beautifully. And, in turn, "Who's That Woman? succeeds swimmingly, even though the number completely abandons Sondheim's stinging concept of old age ( The vision's getting blurred/Isn't that absurd?) and its dramatic, uneasy repercussions between present and past.
The song-and-dance team of vaudevillians Emily and Theodore Whitman, played by Katherine Walker and Dave Cadwell, has been pretty much reduced to rubble, In this interpretation, they exist only to perform "Rain on the Roof," a song-and-dance ditty that has been cut and re-imagined by Donna Bonasera and performed like an outtake from "No, No Nanette" instead of "Follies." It doesn't work on any level.
And finally, the characters of Christine Crane and Sandra Donovan have merged to become just character, Christine Donovan. But exactly who is Christine? Good question.
Staging "Follies," director Michael Berkeley, gives Sondheim's dark and spirited tale of ghostly exorcism and wonder and regret, a grand, nostalgic opulence that evolves nicely, despite some obvious bumps, curves, revisions, cuts and restructuring. The musical is fast and fluid. The story rarely loses its old theater traditions and values or its jagged myths about love and happiness. The reunion itself never becomes a dirge or dreary wake, despite the next day demolition of the theater itself. And Berkeley wisely keeps the material from becoming preachy, corny, and campy.
"Follies" begins with the exciting and tuneful opening Sondheim number "Beautiful Girls," effectively staged by Berkeley and lovingly choreographed by Bonasera who gives each of the characters the right moves and nuances as they parade across the Warner stage, backed by their own respective ghosts, shadowing them instinctively. It's a shimmering, glorious moment that sets the story in motion in much the same way as the original Broadway show did. The re-enactment of the once famous Ziegfeld-style promenade, colliding as it does with the show's wandering memory theme, is dutifully portrayed under Bonasera's watchful eye. It's absolutely brilliant .
The Warner Theatre's vast, cavernous stage lends itself nicely to Sondheim's final reunion theme, where the past glories of 1941 eerily collide with the equally eerie comings and goings of the same characters thirty years later. The worn, torn and battered theater set design by Stephen C. Houk, which includes a fallen "Loveland" sign, strategically placed upstage, is haunting, hypnotic, creepy, and oh, yes, very, very effective.
The Amazonion showgirls, dressed in smart, stunning costumes by Matt Dettmer and Renee C. Purdy, appear immediately at the start of the play's haunting and evocative Prologue/Overture. They glide and prance about the Warner set and cleverly utilize the strategically-placed, semi-circular, lighted runway (great, great idea, by the way), which is attached to the apron of the stage. Guided by Bonasera and Berkeley, they are in perfect sync with the haunting and phantasmal images indicated in Sondheim's music and James Goldman's book.
To everyone's credit, Berkeley and Bonasera also eliminate the guesswork of past productions. In this "Follies," you always know who these ghostly figures and sepulchral apparitions represent. Taking their measured and collective cue from B&B, they always remain a major part of the production even when standing perfectly still or lurking about in the shadows of the soon-to-be-demolished Weismann Theatre setting.
Trying to unravel and make perfect sense out of Sondheim's complicated music and lyrics, Willard C. Minton often kicks and jumpstarts the composer's celebrated tale of psychoanalytical angst, lost, misspent youth and sequined showbiz confection into high gear. He pumps the fantastic Warner Theatre orchestra into a wild state of frenzied delirium. And, they often succeed. He also tries valiantly to cover up some of the production's obvious flaws, mistakes and bad casting choices by completely ignoring them. But, he can't. Not really. They are there and you notice every single one of them.
But first, the good news.
In "Loveland," a delightful tribute to young love and overwhelming optimism, he leads the on-stage performers through a perky, well-timed and balanced musical tribute, offset by cute, Hallmark card choreography, impeccably designed and fleshed-out against the derelict-theatre backdrop by Bonasera.
"One More Kiss," however, shows Minton, at his musical peak. This light-operatic ballad about dreams that fade when reality kicks in, is splendidly performed by Katie Kat (Heidi Schiller) and Amy LeBlanc (Young Heidi), who, by some mere stoke of genius, look very much alike, which in turn, heightens this very important musical number. Each actress maintains perfect melodic pitch, harmony and gusto. This is the real deal. Make no mistake about it.
Minton works the same vocal magic with Priscilla Squiers, cast in the role of French chanteuse Solange LaFitte, a still-sultry ex-follies showgirl who has left showbiz to work in the perfume industry. The always-versatile Squiers could easily have had her pick of any role in "Follies," with one or two exceptions. But luckily, for us, Minton, Bonasera and Berkeley, gave her the plum role of Solange which she plays with that same sort of honesty, chutzpah and realism that categorizes all her work. Her vocal rendition of the playful "Ah, Paris!" joyously celebrates her character's love of all things French and thrusts Squiers back in the spotlight for a round or two of well-deserved applause. She is absolutely sensational.
Things, unfortunately, start to disconnect, once Eve Van Syckle, takes center stage to entertain and cajole us with "I'm Still Here," the big Sondheim anthem that charts the bruised ego of a screen goddess, now reduced to performing in Las Vegas and regulated to has-been, camp or nobody status. Unfortunately, Van Syckle lacks the vocal, belt quality prowess associated with the song. She also drops several important Sondheim lyrics thorough the entire number and has absolutely no clue what the hell she's singing about....or not singing about.
If there's anyone in the cast who could do justice to the jaded humor and pathos of "I'm Still Here," it's Elyse Jasensky who, early on, stops the show with the rousing "Broadway Baby." With some quick rewrites (this is the Warner, they do it all the time) and some very devilish Bonasera choreography, this gritty ballad can achieve its anticipated momentum. In the meantime, you'll have to settle for a wispy, coffee-house version that belongs in Poughkeepsie....not Stephen Sondheim's "Follies."
"You're Gonna Love Tomorrow/Love With See Us Though," the sunny, deliriously perky song that thrusts Young Sally, Young Ben, Young Buddy and Young Phyllis into the "Follies" spotlight of yesteryear and retraces the quartet's sunny outlook toward a rosy future where the skies are always blue and nothing is impossible falls flat on its face. The orchestra, under Minton's direction, plays the song exactly as written. But vocally, things quickly go merrily wrong. All four (Shannon Sulivan, Cole Sutton, Becky Sawicki, Eric Lindblom ) actor/singer's have great difficulty with the song's overlapping lyrics, the melodies and the harmonies. They also forget some of the lyrics.
Donna Bonasera's choreography is effective, smart and snappy. It's also cute and wrongheaded. Still, she knows what a Ziegfeld Follies-like show is all about from the body language, the prestige, the razzle-dazzle, the gay trivializations and all the major dance moves. But since this "Follies" has been revised and reimagined for some of the characters, in particular, Stella Deems and Hattie Walker, she opts for a "42nd Street," "No, No Nanette" and "Anything Goes" style that undercuts and dampens that Sondheim sting.
Regardless, "Who's That Woman?' is marvelously staged. Bonasera whips her cast quickly into shape, particularly when the older characters break into a frenzied dance alongside mirror images of their younger selves. It's lots of fun, from its gentle soft-shoe and step-ball-change to the rousing imaginary mirror that is used to converge the past and present into one vibrant experience. Sadly, the sarcasm of the original piece and its glaring truths and pronouncements about who that woman in the mirror really is, get lost in the translation.
"You're Gonna Love Tomorrow/ Love Will See Us Though," in turn, is lively enough, but the jubilant period dancing that made this number stand out on Broadway, is conspicuously absent from the Warner production. "Rain on the Roof" also suffers a similar fate. Working with non-dancers often has that rippling effect.
In Stephen Sondheim's "Assassins," Suzanne Powers found herself playing the dithery and manic Sara Jane Moore, a woman who once knew Charles Manson in high school and tried and failed to assassinate United States President Gerald Ford in 1975. As both actress and singer, she offered a superbly crafted performance that was both edgy, moody and completely bonkers. Earlier this year, she also headlined "The Diary of Anne Frank" playing the pivotal role of Edith Frank, Anne's mother.
Whether interacting with the onstage characters of "Anne Frank" or quietly standing there in silence, observing, reacting or thinking, Powers, incredible actress that she is, gave yet another passionate, controlled performance fraught with real emotion, passion and honesty.
"Follies" casts the actress as the brittle, wisecracking, fashionable, ultra-chic Phyllis Rogers Stone, an ex-follies star trapped in a loveless marriage, which, may or may not be on the brink of disaster. It's a glamorous and showy role that Rogers embraces with the same sort of passion, integrity and strength that classifies all her stage work. She not only gives the evening's best, completely rewarding performance, but her Phyllis is actually more believable and beguiling than Alexis Smith, Blythe Danner and Jan Maxwell, the trio of Broadway stars that starred in three very different productions of "Follies."
Yes, of course, the dialogue is rehearsed. And so are the songs and the dances. The trick, of course, is to make us forget completely about that. And that's exactly what makes Powers stand out. She delivers Goldman's dialogue with fiery intensity and believability. Vocally, she knows Sondheim inside and out, sideways and backwards, front and center. "The Story of Lucy and Jessie," a leggy, feverishly-pitched song that dissects her character's twisty and complicated persona, is a genuine showstopper that Powers has great fun with. It is offset by Donna Bonasera's unique, eye-popping choreography, which adheres closely to the musical's original staging and stinging pointedness, as dictated by Sondheim. It is just brilliant.
“Could I Leave You?,” Phyllis’s taunting declaration of war on Ben allows Powers to fiercely deliver the bitchiness and manic ferocity, the popular Sondheim song calls for. And much, much earlier, "Waiting for the Girls Upstairs" allows the character to playfully reminiscence about the early years, the follies, her first love and how things eventually changed for everyone when the curtain finally came down. She doesn't miss a beat.
The casting of Juliette Koch as former showgirl Sally Durant Plummer is "spot on." Ms. Koch lights up the Warner stage whenever she's front and center, in the spotlight or standing in the shadows reminiscing about Sally's past, which, for story purposes, has left her fractured and resentful years later, due to mistimed choices and opportunities.
As an actress, there's a natural radiance and passion about her, which, she quietly and effectively underplays to project the portrait of a woman who has nearly given up on life, but plunges forward hoping to reclaim a lost love and hopefully find, true happiness.
When we first meet her, Koch vocally engages us with the smart and pungent "Don't Look at Me," a unique Sondheim character turn that addresses the frumpy, dull woman that Sally has become after the showgirl spotlight has dimmed. Koch affectively gets the point across in a vocal rendition that is beautifully timed and delivered. We get more of the same with "In Buddy's Eyes." And then, halfway though Act II, the actress stands directly in the spotlight for "Losing My Mind," the torchy showstopper where Sally, most affectingly realizes that she can never be with or have Ben, her one true love. Koch suffuses her final song in "Follies" with the emotional pathos and melancholy Sondheim intended. It is, simply sensational.
Following in the footsteps of John McMartin who originated the part of Benjamin Stone in the 1971 Broadway production and Gregory Harrison and Ron Raines, who, subsequently, played the same part in the 2001 and the 2012 revival of "Follies" in New York, William Molnar tackles the role with such passionate, intuitive aplomb, you'd think Goldman had the Warner stage actor in mind when he first created the role. The actor not only plays the part of this egoistical ladies man and Washington hotshot brilliantly, he completely owns it. He's charming. He's sexy. He's confident, He's completely genuine. Plus he's a natural born-showman and entertainer who delights, surprises and commands your attention as both actor and singer.
Vocally, he's got the vocal chops for Sondheim's choice, melodic and complicated musical score. In the deliriously complicated "Live, Laugh, Love," a frenzied production number that vividly plunges Stone into a crackling madness, Molnar hits every note, quirk and tick exactly as Sondheim intended. Just watch him. He is fucking amazing. Yes, fucking amazing. His command of Sondheim is simply stunning. His delivery is energetic. And when parlaying into "Waiting for the Girls Upstairs," "The Road You Didn't Take" and "Too Many Mornings," there is lots of beguiling warmth and genuine affection.
Playing the nice, chatty and downtrodden Buddy Plummer, the husband of Sally Durant, who, sadly always seems to come in second in his wife's eyes, Chris Gilbert has the same sort of charm, personality and presence that Gene Nelson did in the original 1971 Broadway production. Make no mistake about it, Gilbert is the real deal. The forced smiles he exudes to hide Buddy's pain and disappointments, hit you smack-in-the-face. He suffers every-so-greatly. Unfortunately, the comparisons to Mr. Nelson stop there.
Vocally, he's definitely not up to the challenge of all things Sondheim. He can sing, yes. He can act, yes. And he redeems himself quite nicely with Buddy's big, gooey and clownish relationship diatribe "Buddy's Blues," which he pushes to the max and never once, loses the song's snarky, valanced attitude, negatively or vaudevillian flavor.
Early on, however, Gilbert strangely disconnects from the pivotal "Waiting for the Girls Upstairs." He forgets intricate Sondheim lyrics, beats and melodies and can't quite pick up his musical cues from the orchestra. Much later, he has major problems with "The Right Girl." He completely goes blank and forgets lyrics (again) during the song's big key moments. And sadly, he can't quite jump back on the Sondheim band wagon. If blame is to be issued for this sort of vocal sloppiness, the finger points directly to musical director Willard C. Minton, who easily could have avoided this situation by teaching Gilbert the necessary vocal tricks to pull this off. This isn't "Sweeney Todd" or "Sunday in the Park with George." It's "Follies." End of!
"Follies" is being staged at the Warner Theatre (68 Main St, Torrington, CT).
Performances are 8 p.m. May. 12 and 13 and 2 p.m. May 14.
For tickets or more information, call (860) 489-7180.
(All production photos of "Follies" were taken by Mandi Martini)
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