#1
Posted: 5/12/06 at 12:57am
The whole world has jumped on the "My __ Review" thread bandwagon, and I know you all hate them, etc. But I make people put up with this -- and hope they enjoy it -- because this is (hopefully) practice for me. And I'm not just going to write for practice and shove it in a drawer, because the feedback you guys can give me is invaluable. 
That said, I haven't posted a review on here in ages (with the exception of when I saw Doyle's production of Company) for a lot of reasons that it would be unnecessary to go into. I may be a little rusty.
Onto the important stuff....
Before being separated by a 6-hour drive between our respective colleges, my best friend and I used to have a strange pastime. My parents have a surround-sound system at home, in one of the larger rooms in the house -- and the one with the highest ceilings -- so you can imagine what that's like. We'd either wait until it was night, or we'd close the shades and turn off all the lights, after putting a cast recording that had meaning to us, or that we had particular love for, into the CD player and finagling the sound settings a little bit. We'd sit there together, in pitch dark, for hours on end, being completely captured by the music -- in the dark, with no "real life" visuals, and with sound that glorious, it was almost as though we were there.
The Drowsy Chaperone opens with The Man in the Chair speaking, he and the audience sitting in pitch dark. He talks about what he likes and dislikes about the theatre: for example, he hates when actors break the fourth wall, as he does himself break the fourth wall for his audience. He misses the days of Gershwin, which have been replaced by the days of Elton John. His opening ode to both the positive and the negative of musical theatre begins what is in concept a love letter to the musical comedy -- while also a loving joke at its expense.
The lights come up, and The Man in the Chair shows the audience his records. He decides to play one of his favorites, the original cast recording from the 1928 musical, "The Drowsy Chaperone." He explains, as he puts it on, that when he does this, it transports him, and makes him feel like he's seeing it (this is what reminded me of the little anecdote with which I opened this review). It helps him when he's feeling blue -- such is the power of the beloved musical; of any beloved musical. With this, Drowsy is not merely the pyramid "show within a show within a show" that it is; it's something that people who love the theatre will tap right into. That said, it's not necessarily something that the average tourist will love, I think, because it seems that to really "get" what's so lovely about Drowsy, you have to understand what this man feels for this show. You have to have experienced that, in at least some capacity -- feeling transported and comforted by a recording; having favorite, tiny little moments that bring joy, loving an imperfect show, even if you know it's imperfect, or loving a show you've never seen. I've certainly experienced those things. I've been that guy. This is a show for people who adore musical theatre.
The show's concept, and *what* it is is better than the way it's actually carried out. It's very fun, though utterly ridiculous. It's light and fluffy in all senses of the terms -- a love letter, yes, but also very sugar-coated. The laughs come, one after the other; the book is hugely clever, and the visual gags are plentiful. At the end, The Man in the Chair explains that it's not a perfect show, but that he loves it anyway; it's entertaining, and that's why he loves it. However, because of this, and because one of the themes is loving an imperfect show, well, you have to watch an intentionally imperfect show. Sometimes that succeeeds with absolutely flying colors -- many scenes are incredibly funny, because it's a hyper-aware, self-aware representation of some of the worst, awesomely bad, funny as all hell theatrical blunders we've all ever seen. But then other times, scenes are dreadful and boring.
Bob Martin wrote his material, so it's rather ironic that the material itself is better than his delivery of it. The lines never stop being funny, but his delivery and tone do; he seems to be using a characterized vocal inflection -- funny at first, but it gets old. The jokes are spot-on, hysterical, well-timed comedy. It's a wonderful book. The music is... there. It's not bad, there's nothing wrong with it, per se, but it's not great, either. There's nothing really new or exciting about any of it. It's cliché to say that music isn't memorable, but with a couple of exceptions (mostly lyrical), Drowsy's score is nothing special. The same goes for the technical aspects, as well, costume design being better than the rest.
The acting, too, is fine. Everybody is good, able, and turns a commendable performance, but nothing is really astounding or mind blowing -- perhaps the nature of the material, as while sweet, it is silly and giddy. Again, what the show is, especially in terms of its fun-poking aspect, often gets in the way of how pleasurable some of the performances are to watch; for example, Danny Burstein, as Adolfo, has the unenviable task of playing a scenery-chewing actor. He portrays a performance that The Man in the Chair classifies as being one that nobody could get away with today; it's funny, but dangerously teeters on the edge of being annoying. The Man in the Chair's explications of and comments on this actor's performances -- offensive racial stereotypes -- are often funnier than watching the performance itself.
Sutton Foster doesn't shine as much here as she did as Millie, which is a little bit disappointing, but she's still more than excellent; I've always thought that while a true triple threat, in that she is *truly* good at all three, I don't feel she excels in one facet of her triple-threatdom more than another. Her performance in Drowsy isn't incredibly layered, but she's supposed to be playing a character who is, as classified by The Man in the Chair, two-dimensional -- as is everyone else. She does, though, continue to clinch her status as a fantastic comedic actress.
As I said somewhere above, in the end, The Man in the Chair gets very emotional, saying he knows the show isn't great, but that he loves it nonetheless. Aside from the fact that the people who are Drowsy's target audience can sympathize with that, it also embodies the show itself. It's imperfect; almost every show is. But it's enjoyable. It takes you away, into this silly, happy, flightly world of musical comedy. Imperfections included and often forgiven, Drowsy is extremely entertaining -- a bit meta-theatrical and self-promoting in that aspect, but most importantly, a good night of fun, and a solid escape from reality. I don't agree with the assessments out there that it's totally original and mind-blowing, but people who love musical theatre will heavily identify with it, and I think that's its strongest attribute.
A work of art is an invitation to love.
That said, I haven't posted a review on here in ages (with the exception of when I saw Doyle's production of Company) for a lot of reasons that it would be unnecessary to go into. I may be a little rusty.
Onto the important stuff....
Before being separated by a 6-hour drive between our respective colleges, my best friend and I used to have a strange pastime. My parents have a surround-sound system at home, in one of the larger rooms in the house -- and the one with the highest ceilings -- so you can imagine what that's like. We'd either wait until it was night, or we'd close the shades and turn off all the lights, after putting a cast recording that had meaning to us, or that we had particular love for, into the CD player and finagling the sound settings a little bit. We'd sit there together, in pitch dark, for hours on end, being completely captured by the music -- in the dark, with no "real life" visuals, and with sound that glorious, it was almost as though we were there.
The Drowsy Chaperone opens with The Man in the Chair speaking, he and the audience sitting in pitch dark. He talks about what he likes and dislikes about the theatre: for example, he hates when actors break the fourth wall, as he does himself break the fourth wall for his audience. He misses the days of Gershwin, which have been replaced by the days of Elton John. His opening ode to both the positive and the negative of musical theatre begins what is in concept a love letter to the musical comedy -- while also a loving joke at its expense.
The lights come up, and The Man in the Chair shows the audience his records. He decides to play one of his favorites, the original cast recording from the 1928 musical, "The Drowsy Chaperone." He explains, as he puts it on, that when he does this, it transports him, and makes him feel like he's seeing it (this is what reminded me of the little anecdote with which I opened this review). It helps him when he's feeling blue -- such is the power of the beloved musical; of any beloved musical. With this, Drowsy is not merely the pyramid "show within a show within a show" that it is; it's something that people who love the theatre will tap right into. That said, it's not necessarily something that the average tourist will love, I think, because it seems that to really "get" what's so lovely about Drowsy, you have to understand what this man feels for this show. You have to have experienced that, in at least some capacity -- feeling transported and comforted by a recording; having favorite, tiny little moments that bring joy, loving an imperfect show, even if you know it's imperfect, or loving a show you've never seen. I've certainly experienced those things. I've been that guy. This is a show for people who adore musical theatre.
The show's concept, and *what* it is is better than the way it's actually carried out. It's very fun, though utterly ridiculous. It's light and fluffy in all senses of the terms -- a love letter, yes, but also very sugar-coated. The laughs come, one after the other; the book is hugely clever, and the visual gags are plentiful. At the end, The Man in the Chair explains that it's not a perfect show, but that he loves it anyway; it's entertaining, and that's why he loves it. However, because of this, and because one of the themes is loving an imperfect show, well, you have to watch an intentionally imperfect show. Sometimes that succeeeds with absolutely flying colors -- many scenes are incredibly funny, because it's a hyper-aware, self-aware representation of some of the worst, awesomely bad, funny as all hell theatrical blunders we've all ever seen. But then other times, scenes are dreadful and boring.
Bob Martin wrote his material, so it's rather ironic that the material itself is better than his delivery of it. The lines never stop being funny, but his delivery and tone do; he seems to be using a characterized vocal inflection -- funny at first, but it gets old. The jokes are spot-on, hysterical, well-timed comedy. It's a wonderful book. The music is... there. It's not bad, there's nothing wrong with it, per se, but it's not great, either. There's nothing really new or exciting about any of it. It's cliché to say that music isn't memorable, but with a couple of exceptions (mostly lyrical), Drowsy's score is nothing special. The same goes for the technical aspects, as well, costume design being better than the rest.
The acting, too, is fine. Everybody is good, able, and turns a commendable performance, but nothing is really astounding or mind blowing -- perhaps the nature of the material, as while sweet, it is silly and giddy. Again, what the show is, especially in terms of its fun-poking aspect, often gets in the way of how pleasurable some of the performances are to watch; for example, Danny Burstein, as Adolfo, has the unenviable task of playing a scenery-chewing actor. He portrays a performance that The Man in the Chair classifies as being one that nobody could get away with today; it's funny, but dangerously teeters on the edge of being annoying. The Man in the Chair's explications of and comments on this actor's performances -- offensive racial stereotypes -- are often funnier than watching the performance itself.
Sutton Foster doesn't shine as much here as she did as Millie, which is a little bit disappointing, but she's still more than excellent; I've always thought that while a true triple threat, in that she is *truly* good at all three, I don't feel she excels in one facet of her triple-threatdom more than another. Her performance in Drowsy isn't incredibly layered, but she's supposed to be playing a character who is, as classified by The Man in the Chair, two-dimensional -- as is everyone else. She does, though, continue to clinch her status as a fantastic comedic actress.
As I said somewhere above, in the end, The Man in the Chair gets very emotional, saying he knows the show isn't great, but that he loves it nonetheless. Aside from the fact that the people who are Drowsy's target audience can sympathize with that, it also embodies the show itself. It's imperfect; almost every show is. But it's enjoyable. It takes you away, into this silly, happy, flightly world of musical comedy. Imperfections included and often forgiven, Drowsy is extremely entertaining -- a bit meta-theatrical and self-promoting in that aspect, but most importantly, a good night of fun, and a solid escape from reality. I don't agree with the assessments out there that it's totally original and mind-blowing, but people who love musical theatre will heavily identify with it, and I think that's its strongest attribute.
Updated On: 5/12/06 at 12:57 AM
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