I saw the show Wednesday as well, but the matinee, and had zero problems with the McDonald vocals. To me, four months into the run, she seems to know how to place her gorgeous instrument, how to navigate its two ends (and her lower range was sometimes thrilling to me), how reassign her strengths - heard as Bess, Marine Christine, Lizzie - to another complicated woman. To me, it's just the way this Rose reveals her emotional vocabulary.
My response to the production may enflame some posters. But I'll offer it anyway: I woke up Thursday thinking about one of the greatest lines in the American canon, not just musical theater: "Well, someone tell me when is it my turn?" An existential cri du coeur. I couldn't help but flash on so many women who have used intellect, creativity, cobbled together resources, and ingenuity in the face of struggle to survive. Twice in this brilliant show a woman with nothing moves on against staggering odds, mining opportunity that feels like an insurmountable obstacle. A feminist prism on Gypsy? Rose is now unavoidably heroic, as many women must be. Yes, bark at me for dragging 2025 into Gypsy, but 2025 is a window on everything: and I flashed on two brilliant women who lost to one of the least accomplished men to undeservedly ascend. The raw specificity of McDonald's heart-on-her-sleeve question brought up the universal. And the devastation in one woman's 11th hour revelation - which fleetingly felt like an epiphany for all women - ricocheted through the Majestic.
"I'm a comedian, but in my spare time, things bother me." Garry Shandling
Updated On: 3/23/25 at 10:53 AM