Quick takes: The T Plays and The Sound of Music

You never know who you'll meet on the T - or in "The T Plays."

The Mill 6 Collaborative's "T Plays" have become, as fellow blogger Art Hennessey has noted, one of our small theatre scene's few traditions. A tradition I have subscribed to from the very beginning, btw, and I admit I respond to the announcement of the T plays' annual return in much the same way I do to those "Attention Passengers . . " announcements that let you know a train is imminent when you're waiting on the platform of the T itself.

But sometimes the ensuing ride isn't as smooth as it might be, and I'm afraid this year's T plays offered more than their usual share of bumps, starts and stops.  Or maybe the trouble is that I've just seen too many of them by now!  So I come to the party burdened with memories of past successes, and rarely feel that pleasant surprise many first-timers experience at the fact that such a project could be brought off at all - much less in a generally entertaining fashion.

Still - that's what you get when you invite a critic: the burden of past experience!  So I have to note that the tropes of T Plays past - rabid Red Sox fans, gay people, and aquatic escapees from the Aquarium - were resurrected somewhat predictably in this year's models, and to somewhat diminishing comic returns, it seemed to me.  But then what are you going to write about when you need to finish your T play in a single weekend, if not the weirdos you encountered on your ride?  (Btw, this time Mormons made their first appearance, I think - but something tells me they'll be back.)

But it wasn't just the slightly pre-fab "ourtageousness" of the characters that worked against these skits - it was also a choppy, time-warpy, are-they-crazy-or-are-YOU-crazy "aesthetic" that doomed a few to near-incoherence.  Too many playwrights in this town have been watching too much Sarah Ruhl, it seemed to me - and as usual, the more traditionally-structured sketches came off best.  These included John Greiner-Ferris's Striking Out the Peanut Man, Rick Park's Stolen Breath, and Kristin Baker and Dan Milstein's 88 is the 88th Loneliest Number.  Luckily all the actors proved game and talented, although a few performances stood out on the platform, particularly those from Luise Hamill, Mal Malme, Brian Bernhard and Lindsay Eagle (above left), and newcomer Kelley Estes.  You still have time to catch the "T Plays," btw, through this Saturday at the Factory Theatre.

Meanwhile I wanted to offer a quick post-mortem on the Reagle Music Theatre's production of The Sound of Music, which closed last weekend to little press attention, even though it was quite a solid production of this perennial crowd-pleaser. I have to admit I didn't feel I really needed to see The Sound of Music again - although apparently a lot of people felt differently; the gigantic auditorium at Waltham High School, where Reagle stages its productions, was packed to the rafters. And you could certainly feel the love in the house; every song was greeted with rapturous applause, and the two little girls behind me sang along softly with most of the numbers.

Of course the large crowd meant that the air-conditioning was on full blast, which in turn meant that the vent above the critics' seats was dripping, as it often does. I admit I enjoy this wry little convention of Reagle's in a meta-way; "We think you're a drip!" the vent above keeps telling you. This time I actually had an umbrella in my bag, though, and I was sorely tempted to use it. Maybe next time I will!

But back to the production. As usual, Reagle offered an intriguing look at its chosen show in something like its original form - that is, prior to its brilliant streamlining (by screenwriter Ernest Lehman and director Robert Wise, among others) into the famous movie which is undeniably awesome in his white-bread perfection. The stage version, by way of contrast, is a little lumpy (songs aren't always where they are in the movie) and very slightly "racier" - there are knowing little in-jokes and wise-cracks here and there, and the Baroness and the Captain trade a few more barbed political quips.  Director Larry Sousa kept everything bustling (on Richard E. Schreiber's brightly colored, self-consciously artificial sets), and to my surprise, gave it all a slightly ironic sheen. Again, slightly ironic -  but nothing serious enough to undermine the show's calculated innocence; and the crowd ate it all up anyway.

The show's great strength was Sarah Pfisterer's Maria; Pfisterer is a Reagle stalwart, has the pipes for the part, and basically beamed her way through it - but there was also a powerful vocal performance from Jenny Lynn Stewart as the Mother Abbess, and all the kids were adorable, led by the talented Troy Costa, whom we remember well from his poised turn a year or two ago in Mame. I also got a kick out of Susan Scannell's drily conniving Countess, and Rick Sherburne's surprisingly heterosexual Uncle Max.  Down in the pit, the orchestra sounded polished and tight - the instrumental musicianship at Reagle has improved quite a bit of late, I'd say.  But  I'm afraid I have to report there was one real gap in the show - its putative star: as Captain Von Trapp, Patrick Cassidy had to coast on his good looks, because he's a stiff actor and a weak singer - indeed, he even wobbled a bit in "Do-Re-Mi."  Alas, at such moments, the tone of this generally enjoyable show suddenly became very ironic indeed.

Reagle goes back to its roots

Rie Ogura and Joshua Andino Nieto as Laurie and Curly in the "dream ballet."

Anyone in the Boston area who cares about musical theatre will want to be one place this weekend: in the auditorium at Waltham High School, where the Reagle Music Theatre will be presenting a kind of resurrection of Rodgers and Hammerstein's classic Oklahoma!.

Reagle has always been known for an attitude that some have called a hide-bound reverence for tradition; the company aims to present musicals from Broadway's golden age (even Sondheim counts as edgy for them!) in as close a form as possible to the original. They even aim for the original, enormous cast sizes - to do so, Reagle generally brings in Broadway stars for the leads, but fills out the ranks with local community theatre types. (60 performers were listed in the program for Oklahoma!.)

Of course this is the kind of thing - a frank appreciation of masterpieces - that would give someone like Bob Brustein apoplexy. Which is why you should feel very sorry for him. Because I have to say that while I have often felt like slitting my wrists at an ART show, just so that I wouldn't have to endure one more second of their patented morbid, pseudo-intellectual pretentiousness (now, of course, I feel the same way, only to avoid their newly patented pseudo-intellectual crassness), I've never been really sorry that I saw a Reagle show.

Sure, often one of these Waltham productions will boast a great turn by its featured star, but will be a little sloppy around the edges. I admit it. But that's not the case with Oklahoma!, because Reagle has really done its homework this time - or rather has borrowed the homework of the University of North Carolina, which scrupulously re-produced (from archival photos, costume swaths, and surviving plans) the "look and feel" of the 1943 Broadway production for one of its student shows. Reagle has rented all of that material, and has also had the good sense to hire as choreographer the legendary Gemze de Lappe, who danced in that 1943 production and eventually became a kind of ambassador-at-large for the work of Agnes de Mille.

All this alone would make this Oklahoma! a destination evening for musical theatre junkies. The sets and costumes are striking (and done up in eye-popping polka dots and plaids that all but scream the highly-keyed sense of fantasy that flourished in the 40's). The choreography is likewise rendered quite well - if, in the end, we must admit that in the "dream ballet" (at top) and elsewhere de Mille reveals that she really was no Balanchine (whose own work for Broadway I wish somebody would revive).

But the good news is that the stars once again are shining at Reagle. This production boasts a dynamically romantic Curly in Stephen Mark Lukas (who for some reason hasn't yet landed a lead on Broadway), and he's nearly matched by newcomer Eliza Xenakis, who sings like a prairie songbird but unfortunately is a bit stiff dramatically here and there (with Lukas, at left). But to be honest, both are sometimes overshadowed by the remarkable Doug Jabara as their nemesis, the menacing farmhand Judd. Mr. Jabara lacks the physical stature casting directors usually demand for this role, but he compensates with remarkable intensity and a chillingly powerful low baritone (and somehow, from the way he all but licks his chops in some scenes, I think Jabara knows that in this case, the villain is by far the best role in the show).

There's more fine work around the edges of the production from local luminary Ellen Peterson as the sunny Aunt Eller, and Todd Yard as the wily peddler, Ali Hakim. Meanwhile, in the famous role of Ado Annie (the "girl who can't say no"), Reagle has cast another appealing singer in Maggie McNeil, who's got just the right presence for the part, but who also isn't yet a highly skilled physical performer (but somehow you don't really care, McNeil is such a kick).

I'm also happy to report that director Holly-Anne Ruggiero knows how to keep a show this size moving without getting in the way, and choreographer de Lappe actually does her best work in the big hoe-down number, which all but two-steps right off the stage. To be honest, the structure of the show will be forever lumpy (both acts end oddly). But what can you say about the score? Well, you can say this: "Oh, What a Beautiful Mornin',"The Surrey with the Fringe on Top," "I Cain't Say No," and especially the gorgeous "People Will Say We're in Love" - this isn't a score, it's a hit parade, and it's beautifully sung here (and under the capable baton of Jeffrey P. Leonard, the orchestra sounds fine, too). Right now we seem to be floating in a kind of golden musical moment in Boston - I couldn't believe I was watching this so soon after The Most Happy Fella up in Gloucester. But I was. And you can too, at least until Sunday.

Big changes at Reagle

Word has reached The Hub Review that Stacey Stephens (at left), Artistic Director of Reagle Music Theatre, has abruptly left the company. And with little attempt at explanation for his departure - although in an email making the rounds, Stephens states quite bluntly that he didn't jump, but was pushed, from his post.

Which seems startling given that his last effort (Sondheim's Into the Woods) was probably Reagle's most artistically satisfying production in some time, and was greeted with universal raves. Stephens - who got his start in costume design - has garnered other positive notices, as well as award nominations and one IRNE win, for his direction and design at the Fiddlehead, Stoneham, and Wheelock Family Theatres. He's widely perceived as a local light in musical theatre, and with Into the Woods, he seemed to be successfully nudging the former Reagle Players to a new level of theatrical ambition.

So what went wrong? As usual, no one is talking, but perhaps it's worth noting that Into the Woods didn't appeal to the Reagle core audience, and didn't deliver big houses. Elsewhere it's being whispered that Stephens wasn't a "good fit" with the Reagle board and founder Robert Eagle ("R. Eagle" = "Reagle," btw). Of course perhaps Stephens was trying to push Reagle too hard, too fast (he was only hired in the spring!) - or perhaps he wasn't, in fact, committed to Reagle's unique blend of professional and community theatre.

We'll probably never know. But right now what looked like a promising new trajectory for the company seems to have been cut short. Robert Eagle, who has guided the theatre for over 40 years, is now 75. With Stephens gone, the search may have to quickly commence for another heir apparent.

The uses of entertainment

Cinderella (McCaela Donovan) ventures "into the woods."

I suppose Into the Woods isn't quite top-drawer Sondheim; that is, it's not in the magic circle of Company, Follies, A Little Night Music, and Sweeney Todd. It's slightly less virtuosic, slightly less ground-breaking.

But it's also produced more often than the "Big Four" - I think we've seen three different productions in the last few years here in Boston, in fact. Why? Perhaps because it's not too challenging, and not too dark - like Goldilocks's porridge (to borrow a fairy-tale metaphor), in terms of challenge, it's just right. Plus it's studded with some of the master's loveliest melodies, including "No One is Alone" and "Children Will Listen," as well as the happy, mindless march that powers the title tune.

So I was happy to welcome yet another Into the Woods into the woods around Waltham - and happier still to find the recently re-christened "Reagle Music Theatre of Greater Boston" (I think we'll shorten that to "Reagle Music Theatre") has mounted a moving and sophisticated (if not flawless) version. It's powered by two knock-out performances, from Broadway vet Rachel York (below left, as the Witch) and relative-newcomer McCaela Donovan (above, as Cinderella), and boasts a nearly-as-strong supporting cast. At the same time, the company seems to have made a jump in its production values, too: the set, by Janie Howland, is more sophisticated and conceptual than was typical for the glitzy, but literal-minded "Reagle Players" (although the design has a few problems, more on that later), and the orchestra, led by musical director Charles Peltz, sounded much cleaner and more cohesive than it has in times past; in fact, in one leap, Reagle has landed in the landscape of a typical SpeakEasy, Lyric, or New Rep musical.

Okay, back to the show itself. Just in case you're a Sondheim virgin, Into the Woods was inspired by Bruno Bettelheim's 1976 blockbuster The Uses of Enchantment, which analyzed the tales of the Brothers Grimm in terms of child psychology - in a word, how the stories allowed kids to grapple with subconscious desires and fears at one remove. With librettist James Lapine, Sondheim set about producing a similar set of fairy tales for grown-ups, in which adult issues could be dealt with via a similar code.

Just after the success of Into the Woods, of course, Bettelheim committed suicide, and soon his reputation endured blow after blow. Still, the common-sense basis of The Uses of Enchantment remains a cultural touchstone, perhaps due in no small part to Sondheim - and the way he and Lapine wittily extended the fairy tale into a more complex moral universe. In their show's first half, four famous stories (Cinderella, Rapunzel, Jack and the Beanstalk, and Little Red Riding Hood) are braided together via the device of the Baker and his Wife, who are seeking talismans to lift a curse of sterility visited on them by a wicked Witch. All the figures of the various stories intersect and interact in those eponymous "woods" - a metaphorical site of fear and desire, of moral uncertainty and fraught encounter, in which circumstances and even identity are constantly shifting.

The twist in Into the Woods is that once these fairy tales are "finished" - and everyone has achieved their wish - the story goes on: all that self-actualization has resulted in a new catastrophe, in which a vengeful giantess (widely interpreted as a personification of the AIDS crisis) appears to mow down the population. Thus as it makes the leap from the 70's to the 80's, Into the Woods likewise limns the transition from adolescence to maturity, and from individual to community - and of course, the awareness of the multiple moral perspectives that transition entails.

If that sounds like a lot to swallow in an evening's entertainment, rest assured that Sondheim and Lapine make the morals go down easy. I'm sure plenty of people have enjoyed Into the Woods without pondering any of this. What's memorable about the Reagle version, however, is how it subtly grows in scale and power as it proceeds: by the finale, largely thanks to McCaela Donovan's delicately devastating version of "No One is Alone," I confess my heart was in my throat - right where Sondheim and Lapine intended it to be.

Prior to that, there were a few bumps on the path to grandmother's house. The first act of Woods is famously intricate, with a book that starts and stops repeatedly as librettist Lapine weaves together his separate tales with Sondheim's many songs. At Reagle, at least on opening weekend, all this didn't quite cohere - subtle gaps and beats kept slowing things down, and at the same time the advance of the "First" and "Second" Midnights didn't quite register. The set - a striking statement in which trees would descend onto the pages of an open book - didn't seem to help things; several actors tripped over its steps, and it seemed to subtly frustrate director Stacey Stephens's attempts at flow. Still, in the more simply-structured second act, things improved, and the assembled ensemble shown all the brighter.

Chief among these many lights was Rachel York, a Broadway vet (and Reagle regular) without a real peer in Boston in terms of musical theatre ability. She won the IRNE for last summer's Hello, Dolly!, and something tells me she'll be back in contention next spring for her work here; her Witch is both hilariously broad and yet - amazingly - deeply touching; her rendition of "Stay with Me" was the most wrenching I've ever heard, in fact. Damn, this gal has chops.


The surviving - I mean supporting - cast of this grim fairy tale - Gregory Isaac Stone, McCaela Donovan, Doug Jabara and Allison Russell.

Barely a step behind York, however - despite those glass slippers - was local star McCaela Donovan as Cinderella. Donovan recently impressed as Yum-Yum in the New Rep's Hot Mikado, and she carried on - after a slightly-subdued start - at the same high level here; as noted, I'll never forget her take on "No One is Alone;" with any justice, it would become the standard version.

The supporting cast likewise glittered - I particularly savored the subtle acting and rich singing voices of Shannon Lee Jones and Doug Jabara as the Baker and his Wife, as well as Allison Russell's satisfied sense of happy appetite as the obnoxious Little Red Riding Hood. Alas, Ayal Miodovnik was somewhat hampered as the Big Bad Wolf by a cumbersome mask, but he was a lot of fun as the fatuously swaggering Prince, and newcomers Gregory Isaac Stone and Brennan Roach impressed as Jack and Rapunzel's Prince, respectively.

There were a few gaps in the ensemble - Catherine Lee Christie contributed a fine singing voice but not much more as Jack's mother, and in the part of the Narrator, local TV personality Scott Wahle came off as - well, a local TV personality (his costume of anchorman-suit-and-tie didn't help things); to be fair, Wahle was better, but hardly outstanding, as the script's "mysterious old man."

These missteps were forgotten, however, amid the production's many pleasures. In fact, I'd say the other theatres in town should watch their backs; as I predicted last summer, Reagle seems to see an opening for a jump from a "merely" community-based theatre into a full-fledged regional presence, and with Into the Woods, they're putting their best foot forward.