What a time it’s been lately, thanks in no small measure to Hurricane Sandy barreling through the region.
We watched from our third story window as the corrosive salt waters of the East River rose to a height of five feet outside our building, drowning every car in sight and wreaking havoc with everything else that lay in its path. In its wake, we were without electricity for ten days and still live with the mess.
Yet we know full well how fortunate we have been when compared with those whose lives were turned upside-down, whose homes were badly damaged or even destroyed, and who still wait for relief. Our warmest thoughts and wishes go out to all who have yet to begin to recover.
Theatergoing was moved to a backburner, but getting back to this blog is part of my own effort to regroup.
After a slow start, and a temporary halt, I am happy to be able to report that Broadway may very well have its first bona fide hit of the season with the highly entertaining, exceptionally well-performed revival of The Mystery of Edwin Drood, a quirky musical that takes audience participation to new and delectable heights.
Drood, winner of multiple Tony Awards in1986 for its creator Rupert Holmes (best book, best music, best lyrics, best musical), is based on the unfinished novel of the same title by Charles Dickens, who died before completing it. It is the unfinished nature of the work that Holmes latched onto, and the thing that makes the show such a crowd-pleaser.
Because Dickens offers up a plot that is so convoluted and melodramatic as to defy any suspension of disbelief, there really are only two ways to play out the story: straightforward or with tongue firmly planted in cheek.
If you saw the version that was shown on PBS’s Masterpiece Theater some months ago, you got an attempt at telling the story in a straightforward way. The best that can be said about it is that you could more-or-less follow the tale through to the ending that the writer Gwyneth Hughes created for it.
Fortunately for audiences in the Roundabout Theatre’s Studio 54, Mr. Holmes’s version is played as a pure romp, framed as a musical production by a company known as the Music Hall Royale.
Under director Scott Ellis’s deft hand, the actors move in and out of their roles, sometimes portraying the characters in the melodrama The Mystery of Edwin Drood, sometimes stepping out of their roles to play directly to and with the audience.
I don’t quite know how to begin to explain the plot, but let me give it a shot.
Young Edwin Drood and the sweet Rosa Bud have been engaged to be married almost since birth. Edwin’s uncle John Jasper, who is also Rosa’s music tutor, is madly in love with his pupil and is consumed with jealousy. To make matters worse, his mind is addled to the breaking point by the laudanum-infused wine to which he is addicted.
He is, assuredly, capable of doing great harm. And, indeed, he becomes a prime suspect when Edwin goes missing and is presumed dead. Yet is Jasper the villain he seems to be?
The story grows quite complicated as it turns into a whodunit, with tangential twists and turns galore, not to mention characters who show up and disappear for no apparent good reason.
And while Jasper is the obvious suspect, there are others, especially Neville Landless, a Ceylonese native with a hot temper who has shown a serious dislike for Edwin and who was with him when he was last seen alive.
Beyond that, at least plot-wise, I think I will step back and let you discover it for yourself.
Since the author left his story unfinished, there comes a point (announced in mid-song), where Dickens’s voice disappears and anything can happen. Freed of the constraints of pre-determined plot points, the last 45 minutes is just jolly good fun.
Mr. Holmes has opted to let the audience vote on several key issues, including the identity of the murderer.
This isn’t a shout-out vote, but an actual count of hands by members of the company, who spread out into the various sections of the audience so that every vote matters.
In addition to choosing the killer, the audience determines the secret identity of one of the characters, and selects a pair of lovers to give the show its romantic/happy/comic ending.
The game actors are first-rate through-and-through, with special nods to Will Chase as John Jasper, Stephanie Block as Edwin Drood (the role is written for a woman to play), Betsy Wolfe as Rosa Bud, Andy Karl as Neville Landless, Jessie Mueller as his sister Helena, and the incomparable Chita Rivera as Princess Puffer, proprietress of the opium den that John Jasper calls his home away from home. Kudos, too, to Robert Creighton, for his great comic turn as Durdles; the audience loves him.
But if the show belongs to anyone, it is Jim Norton as the character known as Chairman. Norton understands better than anyone on stage how to ringmaster a music hall production, how to win over an audience, and how to tell the corniest of jokes with the polished skill of a lifelong seller of blarney.
Musically, The Mystery of Edwin Drood is definitely a mixed bag. Many of the numbers are serviceable, if not memorable. But there are enough winners to satisfy, including a wonderful patter song, “Both Sides of the Coin,” modeled on Gilbert and Sullivan, which Mr. Norton and Mr. Chase play off one another in a tongue-destroying way. Other first-rate tunes include the haunting and creepy “Moonfall,” which Jasper has supposedly written for Rosa to sing; “The Wages of Sin,” performed by Ms. Rivera and which includes audience participation; and the triumphant “The Writing On The Wall,” sung by (sorry, it wouldn’t be cricket to tell you).
With multiple possibilities in Act II, the cast seems to be having a blast, and their pleasure is definitely contagious. A shout-out needs to go, too, to the stylish contributions of choreographer Warren Carlyle, set designer Anna Louizos, and costume designer William Ivey Long.
At the start of this review, I noted that The Mystery of Edwin Drood may be the first hit of the season. That does depend a lot on audiences showing up and participating. Studio 54 is a little off the tourist path, and, despite the success of its original run, not a lot of folks would have heard of the show.
So I’m suggesting another form of audience participation, which is this: If you see it and like it, spread the word. It will take word-of-mouth to keep the show going, especially now when things are at sixes and sevens post-Sandy.
So, go. Enjoy. And it’s OK to reveal all (except, perhaps, the final number), because every performance will have a different set of solutions.
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