In GYPSY, Patti LuPone proves yet again that she is a fabulously dynamic singer with more than a little touch of star quality whose legitimate acting chops far exceed those of most performers in musical theatre. She hasn’t been this perfectly cast since EVITA and is now the definitive Rose. Consequently, GYPSY this weekend was not only nirvana for LuPone fanatics (of which I am proudly one), but, more significantly, a Major Event for all but the staunchest of detractors.
It’s no overstatement to call GYPSY the best musical ever written. The show is so rich and yet so efficient and it so sublimely fuses cutting psychological drama with brassy showmanship, providing ample opportunity for a great star to strut her stuff rising to the demanding challenges of acting and singing Rose.
Like many people, I first experienced GYPSY as a film my grandparents would show me and my sister growing up. We loved the movie, right up there with MY FAIR LADY, THE MUSIC MAN and OKLAHOMA and certainly treasured Rosalind Russell’s performance. However it wasn’t until, as a burgeoning adolescent theatre queen seeing Tyne Daly, that I understood the visceral thrills of a Rose on stage “talking loud.” I remember collecting the CDs with Merman and Lansbury and comparing everyone’s different takes and feeling my cup runneth over with good Roses. Unlike many people I was not disappointed by the Bette Midler version. If Bette didn’t act the role as well as Roz, she certainly turned in a delicious turn, the Divine Miss M as Madame Rose, and quickly became my favorite GYPSY CD (I remember making a “desert island” GYPSY tape featuring mostly Bette, the occasional Ethel and Liza stepping in with her 1991 Radio City Some People…) When Bernadette sang Some People on her quintessential Carnegie Hall album, it surpassed all previous recordings. Before I got to see Bernadette do the rest of the show, I hauled ass to Paper Mill for Betty Buckley which was exciting – very belty and very dramatic, but odd, cold and humorless. Even more of a letdown, I hated the Sam Mendes production with Bernadette, despite all of her charms, too coy to command the show and vocally diminished to say the least. I appreciate a different approach and am a huge fan of La Peters, but Rose is someone who makes other people do things and Bernadette is ultimately a passive presence (that’s why we love her, we want to take care of her). People kept telling me “she was sick” “she’s singing it so much better now” “she’s grown so much” and I went back twice but all three times was sorely disappointed. Really, Broadway? This is the GYPSY revival I get?
Then came Ravinia. Patti’s performance was so real, so spontaneous, so in-the-moment – like her work in THE OLD NEIGHBORHOOD, Patti gave an insightful and deeply emotional inhabitation of a person plagued by family baggage – extremely convincing moments of parental love, human heartbreak and giddy laughter only now infused with that incendiary thrust, the spark of the great Broadway heroines Fanny Brice, Dolly Levi, (dare I add?) Eva Peron. At times, it was as if I’d never seen the show before, I was so on the edge of my seat transfixed by such marvelous acting and then BOOM, Patti explodes into one of those tremendous songs and it’s musical theatre heaven. And that vitality is so compelling; no one could take their eyes off of her. Watching Patti sing “Rose’s Turn”, “Some People”, “Everything’s Coming Up Roses”, hell, even “Have An Egg Roll, Mr. Goldstone”, the energy in the room (which is not a room, but a 3000 seat open air pavilion surrounded by acres of picnic-ers) was so intensely focused on Patti, on Rose that if felt like the stage, the orchestra and the audience were all an extension of Patti, like we couldn’t breathe except as one, with her. The same is true of the more intimate moments in the show as well – nobody can mix their voice and croon and caress a ballad, infusing it with emotion, like Patti and “Small World” and “You’ll Never Get Away From Me” both were beautiful, but they also functioned so well as parts of their respective scenes, especially their simply staged, naturalistic buttons - stylish, musical, and iconic, perfect.
Rose’s Turn was everything the night had been building to and more. Patti was all at once maniacally driven and free in the moment of fantasy, joyfully clamoring and so living the catharsis and abandon of the strip tease. And not even Liza (in her insane Rose's Turn in Liza's Back at the Beacon Theatre) mined as much pathos out of the "Mama, Mama, Mama..." Few actors can fill a moment of that size with authenticity – Patti’s breakdown was harrowing, frightening and, finally, thrilling as her monstrous belt soared over the orchestra crashes of the last “For me.” I don’t think you can imagine without having been there the emotional power of Patti sobbing, convulsing into Louise’ arms in the last scene. And then, one last time there’s that humanity and humor when she perks up like a child at the idea of wearing the mink to the party. A sumptuous ending to a sumptuous performance.
I want so badly for this production to move on and receive all the acclaim it deserves (for Patti, clearly, and for Lonny Price’s masterful direction – here’s someone who can make classic musicals work for a contemporary audience without sacrificing what made them great – imagine what he could do with a month of previews and a set). At the same time, if Arthur Laurents is as miserable and as self-sabotaging a train wreck as everyone says he is, maybe it will never happen. I thought of that last night and knew that this is why I love theatre, the fleeting glory of that moment as Patti bowed to our thunderous reveling, and I knew that I will cherish that memory until the day I die.
Updated On: 8/14/06 at 10:02 PM
