After finally seeing it this afternoon, it's hard to add to the discussion, except to weigh in on the casting and relative success of the refocused show without the central Prince bouzouki conceit (about which I've posted ad nauseum; sorry.) I still find the show suffers mightily without the framing device, leaving the Leader to function as magic realism rather than anchoring the show in an accessible contemporary reality. With over a third of "Life Is" fully eliminated, there's no reason for this mere device to announce -- to no one in particular -- "I will tell you" as she does at Encores to a silent group of dancers. For a moment, it's dangerously close to camp, particularly when wed to Mazzie's Vegas-styled Olympian get-up. Luckily, she's too persuasive, and her song(s) all too good for the moment to distract for long. Still, rather than find another point of access, the show simply settles for narration. There's no really solid analogy, but okay, imagine "Our Town" told by someone called The Narrator, rather than a true character, the Stage Manager. Removing the Leader from her cafe circle milieu leaves her with a handful of wonderful songs but devoid of dramatic motivation (within the bouzouki, she was in charge of getting a story right; now she's just smugly all-knowing, a seer in high drag) or context (modern Greek characters needing to entertain themselves, not peasants suddenly interrupted by someone who wants to "tell" them something). She floats through with omniscience rather than annotating a group-decided tall tale. Only "The Crow" makes sense with this mystical oversight. Otherwise, she's meddlesome. Again, the songs are gorgeous -- I'll take "The Butterfly" over anything else on Broadway right now. I prefer them tethered to a genuine idea.
At this point it's all history, but I come down solidly on the pro-Turturro side, a minority opinion. He moved me consistently in the second act, and I thought his take on the song added for Quinn, "Woman," was lovely, and actually rather beautifully sung. I can't argue why, and frankly don't know anyone who agrees with me about his performance, though some naysayers are stronger than other. I thought his dance was fine, with focus and intensity. He had a couple of strained Lauren Bacall top notes in "The First Time" but otherwise didn't sound wildly different from Bernardi or Quinn. I personally think too much has been made of his singing lapses, but then maybe he's acquired vocal confidence with 6 performances under his belt. The show has to be tighter and just better this afternoon than Tuesday or Wednesday. His final dance with Nikos was sweet and affecting.
What's left to say about Wanamaker? She is the real deal, the single best performance in the production, everything she did textured, detailed, ranging from funny, wry, vulnerable to heartbreaking. I believed every moment she was on stage. I have seen Karnilova and Blaine, but this performance of Hortense is my favorite. Had she been in the original production, she would've worked effectively and I suspect Hal Prince would've found her work decidedly within his tonal concept (as opposed to Mazzie's, which was 180 from all that Prince wrought, though not her fault).
Much can be said about the show itself, but we're probably all tired of debating it. It remains a special memory, the original production, so I'm biased. But I see the problems. Personally, I missed chunks of the book (the Widow's story has been truncated to the point of obfuscation) and like most people felt the oppressive weight of the tragedy, more than in 1969 (but hey, I was 17). Ultimately, it's not the darkness that seems to keep the show from landing fully, it's the (seemingly) mixed messages. The material is shaped to both critique patriarchal privilege and celebrate it. The Widow and Hortense are drawn as realistic portraits of women in an oppressive culture that minimizes their value and holds them accountable for sexual behavior in men. It's a powerful, if shorthanded look at these issues, to be sure. Yet Zorba inspires Nikos to "take" love from a woman -- any woman in his path -- and not concern himself needlessly with her potential and actual tragedy. They come, they go. Some live, some die. We move on, free. I realize the source material has far more nuanced. Yet simplified in a musical, the messaging is troubling, confusing, finally a bit unpalatable.
I will once again say, ending the show with a full stage of players, the Widow and Hortense restored to bouzouki circle chairs, reminds the audience that they've seen a wonderful story. Now, we see these doomed women disappear due to the ravages of illness and a brutal rape culture, and are told "that's life." The show's denouement certainly isn't obligated to provide succor to an audience. Yet its resolution doesn't sit well with us, even if we understand the accuracy and authenticity. There's a reason why modern Greek characters relating this tale -- seeing actors move into character costumes -- probably helped make the evening more entertaining. For me, anyway. It seems unlikely we'll see it in NYC again anytime soon, and I'm glad I didn't miss this rendering, for all the reasons noted above.
"I'm a comedian, but in my spare time, things bother me." Garry Shandling