University of Virginia Library

Taking A Look At The Broadway Musical

NEW YORK – Past Hair.
ond Company.

ow, a few seasons later,
are in a position to evaluate
effect that these
revolutionary musicals
on the Broadway
theater. What sort of
phosis has occurred, if
Were these shows the
tters we thought (or, in
case of Hair, ared) they
would be at the time?

I think it is fair to say that
the success of Hair either
directly or indirectly led to the
openings of two of this past
season's more ill-fated
musicals. Dude was a reunion
of the Hair creative forces, and
didn't last long enough for
many people to see it. Clearly,
the formula wasn't working
again, and not even the names
of the Hair brain-trust could
arouse much enthusiasm (an
odd occurrence given their
previous success; maybe after
all, people liked Hair because
it was part of a fad and not
because of any artistic merit it
may have had).

The second expensive
failure was called Via
Galactica, and also had music
by Galt MacDermot, who
seems determined to prove that
his Hair score was a fluke. (His
music for Two Gentlemen of
Verona, the touring production
of which will be coming to
Charlottesville in October, did
nothing but help to make that
show's success a perplexing
mystery.) Via Galactica was a
tale about a garbageman in
outer space, which in itself
makes the show's quick demise a
but more understandable.

Company's influence,
however, was both more
pervasive and more positive,
particularly when we
remember that its artistic
achievement was multi-leveled.
First and foremost, it was a
well-integrated, concept
musical, an attribute which
often tends to be
overshadowed by its glossy
representation of
contemporary urban life, and
the brilliance of Stephen
Sondheim's ultra-urbane lyrics
and music. While this season's
Sondheim musical is neither
contemporary nor pulsating, it
is definitely a concept show,
which, given Sondheim's
extraordinarily witty and
sophisticated touch and
producer-director Harold
Prince's unparalleled musical
theater Weitanschauung,
assures it a quality which to
others is but an aspiration.

In A Little Night Music,
Prince and Sondheim have
combined elements of an
upper-lip drawing room
comedy and an Ingmar
Bergman film (Smiles of a
Summer Night), seasoned the
blend with a Chekhovian sauce,
and given it its romantic flavor
through the integration of
flowing waltzes. If the show
lacks the knockout punch of
Prince and Sondheim's earlier
collaborations it is because
most musicals are structured so
that the big musical moments
are topographically comparable
to mountains; A Little Night
Music doesn't try to scale
mountains, rather it moves
smoothly on a plateau, a
considerably high plateau.

*

The contemporary
influence can be seen in two of
this season's musicals which,
like Night Music, have settled
for what appear to be lengthy
runs. Pippin is a contemporary
historical fable; i.e., a musical
about Charlemagne's son – and
his quest for fulfillment – set
to mock-rock music. The
marriage of styles works
beautifully, and Stephen
Schwartz's score rocks more
than it mocks, with several of
his numbers achieving the same
infectious fervor as his
Godspell score. Though
hampered by an often weak
libretto by Roger O. Hirson,
Pippin proves entertaining,
with much credit due to Bob
Fosse's virtuoso directorial and
choreographic contribution.

The other musical that tries
to put forth a contemporary
facade also tries to wed two
different styles. Seesaw,
however, is unable to reconcile
a big now production with a
small then love story, and the
result is a mish-mosh which is
never offensive yet never
uplifting. Whether William
Gibson's Two For the Seesaw
is adaptable to the musical
stage or not is debatable. I tend
to think not, just as I tend to
think that Lorraine
Hansberry's Raisin in the Sun
is not conducive to musical
treatment. Still, the former is
going over with audiences in
New York, and the latter is
going over with audiences in
Washington (although I
conjecture that it won't
succeed on Broadway next
season, Clive Barnes'
Washington rave/knee-jerk
liberalism notwithstanding;
what a waste).

The thing about Seesaw,
though, is that one gets the
feeling its creators were never
quite sure what to say
musically at any given
moment. There are no less than
two huge production numbers
which have nothing to do with
the rest of the show, and at
least one more where straining
to make. It fit in is apparent.
No matter how good numbers
may be (and Cy Coleman and
Dorothy Fields' are at best
mediocre), and no matter how
well they may be staged
(Michael Bennett's staging and
choreography is quite good),
they cannot realize their
potential unless they
accomplish something or build
to something intrinsic in the
show.

Which brings us to what is
perhaps the most revealing
musical success of the 1972-73
season: the latest entry in the
Great Nostalgia Wave. Only
Irene does not rely upon
nostalgia all that much for its
success (which may be why it
is infinitely superior to the
revival of No, No, Nanette a
few years back). Rather than
merely resurrecting a flawed
vehicle, the resuscitators of
Irene have made two smart, if
not artistically pure, moves.

First, they have borrowed
musical material from other
sources (and other composers
and lyricists) that ties in with
the progression of the slight
plot line, and have, in short,
rewritten the show rather than
dust it off. Secondly, they have
let their carefully chosen actors
carry a larger share of the load;
in other words, the
personalities sell the material.
Debbie Reynolds playfully
performs her phony break-ups,
Patsy Kelly goes through the
shtick routines she does so
well, and George S. Irving
works out some cute bits in the
role of a male dress designer
named Madame Lucy.

Yes, it's hokey. Yes, every
trick in the book is pulled out.
No, it isn't all that bad, Gower
Champion moves the show
along at a quick pace, and
Peter Gennaro has provided
some dazzling dances, and the
music is hummable, and
whoever said musicals have to
be profound?

It is somewhat ironic,
however, that the theater in
which Irens is housed is the
newest on Broadway –
beautiful, clean, sterile. This
perhaps sums up the present
state of things as far as the
Broadway musical is concerned
in the post-Hair era. The old
may be flirting with the new,
and what once seemed to be
revolutions turn out to be mere
fads, and in the end, it is the
shows with the most quality
that end up in the winner's
circle, regardless of their
stylistic bent.

Which is as it should be.

—Steve Wells