That great quote from "The Barefoot Contessa": A Review of "Spelling Bee" at POP

Before the review proper begins, a few disclaimers (and a clarification):

1) My older daughter was five-time, city-wide spelling bee champion (grades 4 through 8) in New Britain;

2) That same daughter, now a rising college sophomore, is a summer administrative intern at Playhouse on Park;

3) A doctor from our family's medical past was an original investor in The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee;

and

4) The "great quote" referred to in the title of this post is delivered by the wife of Humphrey Bogart's character in The Barefoot Contessa and is addressed to a drunken starlet who's just asked, "What's she [Ava Gardner] got that I don't?"  She responds:

What she's got you can't spell, and what you've got you used to have.

 



Photo: Rich Wagner

 

I offer that great piece of script writing, first, because it's one of the greatest put-down lines in Hollywood history (and delivered by the most minor of characters, no less), and, secondly, because the first half of it is so apropos here: What makes this show, and this Playhouse on Park (POP) production, so good is hard to put into words (much less spell 'em).

 

If you don't know the show, it is what the title suggests, following six young spellers (and even four pre-selected audience members) as they try to become the next Putnam County Spelling Champ.

 

Yes, they're the geeks, misfits, and overachievers with all the quirks one expects from those for whom the correct spelling of  "syzygy" is so central to their young lives (not to mention to the lives of the adults who've helped make them this way).  And, yes, the script takes every opportunity (and there are many, many, many such opportunities) to have us laugh at them.  Thanks to Susan Haefner's very smart direction of a talented cast and Robert Tomasulo's tight pit band, I haven't laughed out loud (would that be guffawed?) so often at a theatre in a while.

 

The cast (in alphabetical order) of Kevin Barlowski (Leaf), Hillary Ekwall (Logainne), Emily Kron (the M.C. and former winner Rona), Steven Mooney (William), Maya Naff (Marcy), Joel Newsome (the Vice Principal), Norman Payne (the parolee/grief counsellor), Natalie Sannes (Olive), and Scott Scaffidi (Chip) is very fine across the board.  Each character gets her/his moment or two or three in the spotlight, and each makes the most of it, although this reviewer was particularly impressed by Mr. Barlowski and Mr. Mooney (reunited happily, along with Ms. Ekwall, from POP's You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown) and Ms. Sannes, whose big song simply isn't as good a song as many of the others, but she still made it the single most affecting moment of the show).

 

Which returns us to the Barefoot Contessa line: for all the jokes and goofiness of this show, there's a heart and emotional impact that just shouldn't work...that is, in short, simply hard to spell out.  The show works somehow, and this cast and crew work it very, very well.

 

My only "complaint" is that sometimes the swinging band could, at times, drown out a line or two of a song, but that could just be my ever-aging hearing.  Trust me, you'll hear enough, and laugh enough (and maybe even cry a little), to make up for those few.

 

My only caveat (for parents who may want to bring their young spellers to the show) is that there is an entire song -- performed hilariously (with candy!) by Mr. Saffredi -- dedicated to the physical manifestation of a young man's adolescent yearnings.  Just FYI....but, if your youngsters are good spellers, they probably won't be learning anything new here anyway. 

 

The show runs through July 20th, but I'd suggest getting tickets soon -- before word really gets out and makes getting a ticket harder than spelling "crapaud."

 

 

This ain't your father's "Cabaret," old chum!

Regular readers of Connecticut Wit know that my preference in musicals runs Gershwin-Squared, Richard Rodgers (with Hart first then Hammerstein), Cole Porter, Cahn and Van Heusen, and the rare Sondheim (i.e., only when he's the lyricist for Jule Styne or Leonard Bernstein).  They'd also know that my preferred stage version of scandalous behavior is Pal Joey's approach to his "mice" --- to "treat a lady like a dame and a dame like a lady."   And they'd certainly be able to figure out that my musical-cum-Nazis of choice would be the one with the would-be-nun with the Viennese kids dressed in old curtains.

So how then can I give a rave review to the disturbing and erotic production of Cabaret that is playing at Playhouse on Park until July 21?
 

Photos by Rich Wagner

Because it's so bloody well conceived, directed, acted, sung, and danced.  Everybody involved in this production makes it work. 

Sean Harris' direction maintains the perfect balance between rousing production numbers of the Kit Kat Klub and the deadly serious social problems that rap, at first, lightly on its door, then come flying through its windows like a brick, and finally tear the place (not to mention Germany, Europe, and the world) apart. 

Colin Britt's musical direction is remarkable (yet again); his marvelously precise ensemble can raise the heat and chill to the bone in frighteningly swift succession. 

And what can be said of Darlene Zoller's choreography? In the intimate space that is Playhouse on Park's theatre, an audience member gets to know the scantily-dressed, lithe, and acrobatic chorus of dancers very well quite quickly.  Indeed, I think, after last Wednesday's performance, I'd be married to at least two of them in some southern states!
 

The performances are all very fine and several truly remarkable.  Brendan Norton's Emcee (above top) lords over the action like the twisted puppet-master he is -- yet with a manic energy that he somehow manages to have implode in front of us.  And while Erin Lindsey Krom's Sally Bowles and Jake Lowenthal's Cliff give us the full arc of doomed love (from naive devil-may-caring to disillusioned horror) that we expect from Cabaret, for this audience member, Kathleen Huber's Fraulein Schneider and Damian Buzzerio's Herr Schultz (seen below) take this production to a whole other level.  Huber is so natural and compelling that I have a hard time imagining her having to make her decision about marrying her Jewish suitor every night.  And if (Spoiler Alert!) you don't think a pineapple is a loving gesture after Buzzerio's ridiculously sincere gift, you have no heart. 



The production designers Erik Diaz (Scenic), Marcus Abbott (Lighting) and Erin Kacmaricik (costume) all contribute mightily to the power of the play, as well.  (But, let's face it, I haven't seen that much lingerie since I first learned about the Victoria's Secret catalogue in the 1980s.)

At times alluring, decadent, quotidian, and appalling, this superb production can't help but make us face our roles in this tragic dance.  It's not an easy night at the theatre, but you'll find few more fulfilling.
 

   

Happy Independence Day, Everyone!

I've always wondered why the military gets so much attention on the 4th of July, when they already have Memorial Day, Veterans Day, and isn't there an "Armed Forces Day", too?  It's not that I neither understand nor appreciate the role the military has played in the history of our free nation, but it has always seemed to me that the Fourth of July shouldn't be about the physical fight for Independence and the bravery demonstrated and sacrifices made in battle, but rather the philosophical and political bravery exhibited in Philadelphia on those devilishly hot days in early July 1776 in Philadelphia.

You know, the stuff celebrated so wonderfully in the musical 1776!
 
And just as Tom here has written
We say "To hell with Great Britain"
The eagle inside belongs to us!

:"The Egg", 1776

Enjoy the link ...and the holiday!

I promised in my response to a comment from a recent post that I'd do a series on the SEVEN DEADLY SINS!

To get that underway, here's a clip from the 1986 musical film, Absolute Beginners.

The song is "That's Motivation," the singer David Bowie. (If you want to cut right to the song, start at about the 1:30 mark.)

Take special notice of the aforesaid sins, but please don't neglect Mr. Bowie's tap dancing or the hommage to the "Come Fly With Me" Sinatra.

We shouldn't wonder why Americans are so awful at financial planning (and, not unrelatedly, marriage)...

...when in one of the greatest American musicals, Oklahoma, audiences are treated to such brilliant financial minds as Curly, Will, Jud, and Ali, all of whom handle money with the brains of one of the ears of corn growin' as high as an elephant's eye in "Oh, What a Beautiful Morning."

Curly and Jud engage in a bidding war, each willing to dispose of his entire life's savings or tools-of-his-trade (i.e., future earnings potential) for a lunch.

Will meanwhile can't hold on to $50 to save his l(w)ife, and Ali, well, considering he actually runs a business, is quite the poor entrepreneur.

We'll overlook the fact that all these financial transactions are thinly veiled attempts to buy and sell women because that would lead us to a discussion of the Goodspeed Opera House's production of A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum, the educational packet for which includes worksheets for middle- and high-schoolers in language arts, history, and culture.

I can hear the post-performance class now:


"Teacher, what's a 'procurer'?"


"What I want to be when I grow up: a 'courtesan'!"


"Our band's finally got a name -- 'The House of Lycus'!"


Now, those are solid and measurable educational outcomes.