A Gentleman’s Guide To Love And Murder
Walter Kerr Theatre
25 November 2013
4 Stars
BOOK TICKETS
One does not often come across a new musical which has everything going for it, but at the Walter Kerr Theatre on Broadway, the wonderfully droll A Gentleman’s Guide To Love And Murder, an engaging new work from Robert L Freedman and Stevan Lutvak is pretty darn close.
A kind of Gilbert & Sullivan meets Cole Porter, this funny, silly musical entertainment is simple fun from start to finish. Freedman provides an engaging and stupendously ridiculous plot which covers the emotions from murder to lust, brings a Carry On gang sensibility to the Broadway stage and revels in its bawdy lustre: a killer song is entitled “Better With A Man” and at one point Jefferson Mays, in one of his eight or nine incarnations of the D’Ysquith heirs, archly asks a robust woman: “Can I warm my hands in your muff?” Yes, it’s THAT kind of a show.
Part music hall, part revue, part musical comedy – it is less and more than all of those parts at once. It’s genuinely funny, although more hearty smiles than belly laughs – curiously, it seems, because the piece requires the American view of what English class wars are to work most sublimely and one wonders whether Americans are, perhaps surprisingly, the best people to convey the sense of what Americans think English people are. Were. Once were.
The music is all glorious pastiche; you think you know each tune as it arrives, not because it is especially unique, but because it has that flavour, that ineffable comfort, that “surely I know this” feeling. Poison in My Pocket, I Don’t Understand The Poor and I’ve Decided To Marry a You are just three of the best numbers.
Jonathan Tunick’s orchestrations are sublime and work masterfully with the intent behind Darko Tresnjak’s snappy, witty and carefully orchestrated direction. It all moves along remarkably cheerily and a smile is rarely far from one’s countenance.
Jefferson Mays is terrific as the various impediments to the ascension to the title of Lord D’Ysquith by Monty Navarro, played by Bryce Pinkham, a kind of cross between Jude Law, Hugh Jackman and Matthew Morrison (with too much MM and not enough HJ).
Jefferson is quicksilver Broadway magic – effortlessly creating 9 very different members of the same clan. He is a joy to watch and he chews the scenery as he goes, dying with considerable and hilarious effort time after time. His clergyman has to be seen to believed. And his tongue work is astonishing, and not just in relation to the lyrics, all of which are heard, precisely landed.
Pinkham is fine as the murderous lover, excellent in many ways – but the role could do with someone who was not afraid to be an individual. There is too much Broadway bland about Pinkham – he needs to continuously unleash his inner rascal, something which he only does occasionally. But when he does, the piece soars. Mays has no such qualms and neither should Pinkham.
There is truly excellent work from Lisa O’Hare as Sibella, the very pink girl of Monty’s dreams and Lauren Worsham sings the role of Phoebe with great unerring skill, although she could have been, needs to be, more relaxed as an actress.
The ensemble do absolutely terrific work and the whole piece has an energy, a joy and a precise rhythm which is delightful in every way.
It is not Bernstein or Rodgers or Sondheim, but it does not try to be. It is good old fashioned musical theatre – and it should be rejoiced in.
One just can’t help but feel that when the English get their hands on this piece they will make it resonate in ways it just can’t on Broadway. For a start, the audiences here do not know what jokes about Clapham are about!
Don’t miss this jewel. It’s a bag of fun.
