Here, Jason Robert Brown has set out to write fun, jolly music for a silly story, and he has added some gorgeous ballads along the way and a couple of genuinely delightful show-stoppers. The orchestrations are terrific and Tom Murray’s musical direction full of zest and zing. The band are hot, a true Las Vegas sound comes to them easily.
Although there are a lot of genuine laughs, many at the expense of theatre critics (subject matter that keeps on giving), this is not a comedy. It is squid ink dark, intense, uncomfortable theatre. And it belongs to Reed Birney, who is magnificent as Ella’s ghastly, vicious father, David, a huge beast of a role, as great as any of the major father characters in Williams, O’Neill or Albee.
This production sets its own agenda, all with the express blessing of the text, and the result is an energised, specific reading which focuses on loss, terror, friendship, rights and wrongs. Silence and pain. Fear and, eventually, hope. Together, Balaban and Higgins make this production the success it is. They upset and then realign the balance in the household they invade.
Rob Compton is quite remarkable in the title role here. The pain and anger and fear he expresses through vocal guttural cries combined with the way he uses his almost entirely naked body to establish precisely how instinctive, alert and animalistic his existence, his life in subterranean caves, has caused him to be, is enthralling to watch.
The acting is of the highest order. Every word, every pause, every gesture – all is precisely calibrated and thoughtfully designed to ensure maximum interest, a real involvement in the many disparate lives of these two intriguing characters. Jake Gyllenhaal proves to be entirely perfect as the ordinary bee-keeper, Roland. Ruth Wilson is very very funny, but also fragile and stern and unfair – whatever the situation requires, Wilson provides.
Turgenev’s play is a delightful confection – putting raw emotion up against the rigours of society and the practicality of humankind. It has an intricate yet delicate plot, which can either bristle with fun and ingenuity or crash into a pit of maudlin reality. Happily, Schmidt’s production is of the former type: and while odd in some respects, it is diverting and enjoyable in ways that 200+ year old plays may not always be.
It’s soon to arrive in London. For a show that has been running for a year on Broadway, it is in tight, taut and terrific shape. Not a single person is dragging the chain; everyone is entirely immersed in the work and everyone can sing the music properly. It is an absolute pleasure from start to finish.
What a great idea for a concert: six performers, a narrator and a small orchestra looking at the product of the fruitful collaboration between Hal Prince and Stephen Sondheim. There were no quality issues with the female performers: Liz Calloway, Kate Baldwin and Heidi Blickenstaff. Each was superb. The men were not so luminous.
