The Broadway Theatre Review: Gypsy
By Ross
With the glorious five-minute overture leading us into the surprisingly traditional production of the 1959 musical, Gypsy, I couldn’t help but gaze admiringly at the beautiful interior of the Majestic Theatre. I believe this is my first time in the space, as I never went to see Phantom of the Opera in NYC. I saw it in London, England, a long time ago when I was in my early 20s and the show was, I believe, in previews, but that viewing was enough for me. I didn’t need to see that chandelier come crashing down again anytime soon (but maybe I’ll be interested in the new version coming to NYC sometime soon). The Majestic Theatre is exactly the place to be for this show. It’s the perfect formulation of a classic Broadway house gifting us with this fascinating and solidly-produced revival of this classic stage musical, held ever so strongly together with the near-perfect combination of a book by Arthur Laurents (West Side Story), music by Jule Styne (Funny Girl), and lyrics by my favorite, Stephen Sondheim (Sunday in the Park with George).
Gypsy is one of those shows that forever feels fresh, funny, and ferocious, all rolled up and tied together with classic musical magic. We all know the story (so I won’t get into the details here), filled to overflowing with well-known songs that jump out at us during that famous overture. The structural framing of the story is sublime and solidly crafted together. It’s tragic and thrilling, overflowing with musical deliciousness that swings from hilarious and entertaining to raw and emotionally exhilarating. The depiction of showbiz mothering is mythologically iconic, with Rose’s determination to succeed (for her children) against all odds is what makes the show so ferocious and legendary. The central figure is the King Lear of musical theatre, especially for the lady who gets to lead it through from the “sing out, Louise!” beginning to the devastating and dynamic “Rose’s Turn” ending. Ethel Merman firmly placed her vocal stamp on what the role ‘should’ sound like, with Angela Lansbury, Tyne Daly, Bernadette Peters, and, most recently, Patti LuPone in 2008, adding to the aura of the part and the tonal qualities required. I will say that LuPone is my all-time champion, although I completely enjoyed Peters’ unique version, and watching an old clip of Lansbury singing the final song just recently sent chills down my spin (I do wish I had seen Daly’s performance, and Lansbury naturally, but even I’m not old enough to have been around to see Merman). Audra fits in there somewhere, but definitely not at the top of the list, I’m sorry to say.
But as directed with a clear-eyed nod to the past by George C. Wolfe (Broadway’s The Iceman Cometh), this newest version of Rose, the grand archetype of a pushy stage mother, played with a strong sense of purpose and poise by the iconic Audra McDonald (Broadway’s Shuffle Along), is as clearly defined and focused as it should be, etched in determination and drive that almost overpowers the traditional formula created. Backed by the stellar music supervision, direction, and additional orchestrations by Andy Einhorn (Broadway’s Hello, Dolly!), McDonald finds the fierce fire that lives inside this staunch cliché, and performs the role with a ferociousness that almost burns down the Majestic house around her. I must state right off the bat, that although I truly believe McDonald’s voice is powerfully perfect in so many ways, it’s not the type of tonal qualities that I love in musical theatre, nor do I think it matches this iconic part. The actor finds all the core emotional truths in abundance, but in her first number, “Some People“, her more classically etched vocals clash with the role and the song, moving in and out repeatedly. The shifting to her more operatic voice kept throwing me outside of the Gypsy framing and kept reminding me of the disconnect. It was jarring and conflicting, making the whole moment feel disjointed and somehow chaotic.
Many might disagree with this assessment, and even I started to disagree with my own as McDonald drives forward into the heart of the matter, snatching up strays on the side of the road with her relentless determination for success and the spotlight. Every moment on that stage we are with her, loving her, yet being somewhat frightened by her monstrous misplaced ambition. When she sings her duets with Herbie, played to perfection by the always reliable Danny Burstein (Broadway’s Moulin Rouge!), both her and his vocals blend and entangle ever-so beautifully, surprising me once again as my concerns were set to the sidelines over and over again. Their “Small World” and “You’ll Never Get Away From Me” are completely delightful in tone and quality, drenched in an honesty that connects without ever feeling false or manipulative. Together they are the emotional core, and when adult Louise, played with a strong sense of purpose by Joy Woods (Broadway’s The Notebook), joins in with them for the playful “Together, Wherever We Go” all earlier questions fade into the background behind those gigantic set pieces.
McDonald’s Rose is definitely a finely constructed woman of sizable aggressive determination, baked in with a need for connection that simmers somewhere underneath. Yet, she’s oblivious to the needs of those around her, especially if they don’t match her burning desire for the starring role. In that organizing, her Rose is detailed and authentic, fierce and somehow fragile, with added layers of cultural reappraisal stitched in – not with a fish hook but with a carefully defined subtlety and intricate skill. In her creation, this Gypsy finds its solid emotional foundation, backed by an almost too classic painted flat context, designed cleverly (although sometimes overly fussy and unfocused) by Santo Loquasto (Broadway’s The Music Man), with well-formulated traditional lighting by Jules Fischer and Peggy Eisenhauer (Broadway’s Gary: A Sequel…).
Woods is an interesting and detailed deconstruction of Louise, looking spectacular in Act Two after she, all too quickly, blossoms on stage after being sent out, without consent, to strip on that Burlesque stage. Her “Let Me Entertain You” number isn’t especially well handled, feeling forced, and too modern, particularly in the dance sequence which feels like it’s from a whole different era and type of musical, but when Woods is given side-center stage to connect with us, her “Little Lamb” persona flourishes most touchingly, pulling us in and making us care for this forever ignored daughter. Yet, I never really believed that her Gypsy Rose Lee became the highest-paid Burlesque stripper like I did with Laura Benanti in the latest revival or the iconic Natalie Woods in the film version, no matter how great she looked in those glorious traditional costumes designed by Toni-Leslie James (2ST Broadway’s Mother Play). The walk, the wiggle, the tease, and the dip weren’t all there for me to be titillated by.
The other roles do add to the structural solidness of this unraveling, with June, played big by Jordan Tyson (Broadway’s The Notebook), finding that right almost-annoying paralleling to her Baby June, performed this show by a strong Marley Lianne Gomes alongside this performance’s Baby Louise, suitably portrayed by Summer Rae Daney (“Blue’s Clues…“). Reunited from Broadway’s The Notebook, Tyson and Woods concoct a dynamic “If Momma Was Married” that is playful and sneaky, finding surprising flavors in their complicated dynamic. The same could be said of Woods and her fascination with the handsome Tulsa, gorgeously embodied by the talented Kevin Csolak (Broadway’s The Outsiders), as he delivers obliviously his “All I Need Is the Girl” with Woods sitting on the (overly clunky) set piece watching and wanting to be noticed, as she does with almost everyone. Here the choreography by Camille A. Brown (Public on Broadway’s for colored girls…) sparkles, even if it doesn’t quite feel period-accurate or connecting.
The age transition of the daughters from younger to older, mid-song, is not traditionally handled, and is somewhat interesting in its conceptual form, even if a bit clumsily delivered and handed off during another redo of “Baby June and Her Newsboys.” The choreography, in general, spins itself into the world of messy and chaotic, overwhelming the music that surrounds it without enhancing it. This is particularly true with “Have an Egg Roll, Mr. Goldstone” which almost hyperventilates the stage and the song’s focus. Luckily, Brown holds back well with the iconic “You Gotta Get a Gimmick” giving plenty of space for Tessie Tura, Mazeppa, and Electra, played wonderfully by Lesli Margherita (West End’s Zorro), Lili Thomas (Broadway’s Chicago), and Mylinda Hull (Broadway’s Mr. Saturday Night), to sparkle, although maybe not as deliciously or uniquely as I was hoping from those first introductions. They are hampered by an overly crowded stage design that hindered their bump and grind for no apparent reason, forcing them forward to give it to us in a limited space at the forefront of the wide stage.
Yet ultimately, Gypsy hinges on the two legendary showstoppers: “Everything’s Coming Up Roses” and “Rose’s Turn“. The Act One closer holds all the delusional dynamics that is desired, with McDonald delivering demented drama from a place of pure oblivious passion. As Gypsy Rose Lee floats majestically away basking in the captivating flash of camera bulb lights, the same could be said Rose’s final, but as she spins towards the tragic ending, questioning everything about herself and all those that have ‘left her’ – or that she has pushed away with her fierce determination, her voice breaks from the belt and shifts into her operatic style that, for me, drained all the power she had so meticulously been building on. That sound softens the final moments of that song when it should have been overwhelming us. She dynamically acts up a storm in that buildup, but ultimately, like this show overall, finishes with a softened stance rather than a Broadway belt slapping us hard across the face. This Gypsy is ultimately fine, interesting, and compelling, with McDonald finding nuance and strength in her character, but not the vocal stamp required -in my humble opinion. Leaving me dreaming, once again, of that earlier impressive trio: LuPone, Laura Benanti, and Boyd Gaines, who, together, found that formula that led to a strong bow, alongside their cow. That’s the Gypsy I’ll savor together, forever, we go.
