My wife, who has an astounding number of Broadway songs
memorized, saw that local theater Stars was
doing this musical, and determined that she would go. The kids and I weren’t
exactly hard to convince, to say the least. Even if I hadn’t already planned to
go, the casting would have been enough to convince me.
A Gentleman’s Guide to
Love and Murder is a rather recent musical - it debuted in 2012 - but it is
based loosely on a rather older novel, Israel
Rank: The Autobiography of a Criminal by Roy Horniman, written in 1907. The
setting of the story itself, apparently Edwardian times, matches that of the
book.
Impoverished commoner, Monty Navarro, has just lost his
mother (his father having died when he was a child), when he is visited by a
mysterious woman, who reveals to him that he is a member of the aristocratic
D’Ysquith family. (Pronounced DIE-skwith - to alliterate well with all the
mortality.) His mother ran off with a man who was [gasp!] a commoner, a
[shudder] Spaniard, and worse, a musician, [pearl clutching all around] causing
her to be disinherited and disowned. Not only is he a member of this
illustrious family, there are only eight individuals ahead of him on the path
to dukedom.
His attempts to reconcile with the D’Ysquiths ending in
further rejection, Monty happens on a chance inspiration when the Reverend Lord
Ezikial D’Ysquith, an inebriated parson, slips and falls to his death while
giving Monty a tour. Monty then decides that, hey, why not kill ALL the
D’Ysquiths in his way, and become a duke?
While the first “murder” is, legally speaking, an accident
(although Monty is morally at fault for not actively keeping Ezikial from
falling), Monty ignores his conscience and sets out to commit deliberate
murder. But not directly, really, more by taking advantage of the natural
weaknesses of his victims.
Asquith D’Ysquith Jr. falls through the ice (with a bit of
help) while skating with his mistress behind his wife’s back. Henry, the
thoroughly gay preppy sort, dies as a result of being stung by the bees he
keeps. Lady Hyacinth (“an unmarried woman of a certain age”) who is in search of
charitable opportunities to burnish her social reputation, is convinced to set
off on an ever more ludicrous set of trips to distant locations which happen to
have great hazards, where she disappears. (Although she finally does come back, and Monty is forced to
cut the gangplank ropes - and she finally drowns…) Major Bartholomew, the
vegetarian bodybuilder, has a few extra weights put on his bar, and
accidentally decapitates himself. Lady Salome, a terrible actress, is slipped a
real bullet to use in the gun at the end of Ibsen’s Hedda Gabler - which turns out to be the one time she gets good
press for her work on stage.
The last two, though, are not actually murdered by Monty.
One dies of a heart attack, while another is poisoned mysteriously by...someone
else. And thus, Monty actually gains his goal.
And finds himself caught between the two women he loves.
The central schtick of the play is that all of the
D’Ysquiths are played by a single actor. In this case, that actor was Kevin
McDonald, one of my favorite local actors. (For my thoughts on previous
productions he was in, see Twelfth
Night, You
Can’t Take It With You, The
39 Steps, A
Christmas Carol, and Crazy
For You. In all, he had to play nine parts - the eight aristocratic
D’Ysquiths, plus Chauncy, an even more remote and disowned scion who, it is
implied at the end, will try to poison Monty.
McDonald was outstanding in creating recognizably different
roles with body language and voices, not just costumes. And yet, it was obvious
that they were all Kevin too. It was a perfect role to show off his range as
well as his talent at being stuffy and snooty. I was also impressed with how he
handled the vocal work, which is not easy in this case. Like myself, he isn’t a
show-stopping soloist with a huge voice, so the key was to stay within his strengths,
and let the acting carry the part. The Rex Harrison plan, more or less. Which
is exactly what he did. It fit the parts exactly as it should.
Assorted D'Ysquiths in the crosshairs of Monty Navarro
The other central part was Monty Navarro, naturally. This
part was played by Ken Burdick, who does indeed have a fantastic voice in
addition to his acting talent. Way back in the day (don’t ask exactly how long
ago…), I used to play with the Bakersfield
College orchestra, and
Ken played oboe. Since that time, he has been in a good number of other
productions, including a performance of rock tunes with the Bakersfield
Symphony a couple years back. I remember a few other highlights, such as The Gypsy Baron and Gianni Schicchi at CSUB (the latter of which I played for as well.)
Those are just a few of many over the years. He has real classical chops to go
with, well, just about anything. In this production, he was electric. I walked
away at the end thoroughly impressed with his vocal work. It was in the same
class as touring productions I have seen in LA. His acting was great too. My
favorite part was the impish little smile and shrug after most of the murders.
That killed me.
Also with major parts were Abby Bowles-Votaw as Monty’s
mistress Sibella, and Amanda Locke as Phoebe D’Ysquith, Monty’s eventual wife.
In addition to their other scenes, the song “I’ve Decided to Marry You,” with
both of them and Monty, was particularly well done. It requires precise timing
of movement and sound (the two women are in adjacent rooms as Monty tries to
conceal each from the other) yet it has to sound like conversation, not just a
set piece song. Kudos as well to director Joe Lowry for setting it up.
Sibella, Monty, and Phoebe in "I've Decided to Marry You"
Two other songs that were particularly enjoyable were “I
Don’t Understand the Poor,” by McDonald as Lord Adalbert (with assistance from
the chorus of spirits of the ancestors), and “Lady Hyacinth,” by McDonald,
Burdick, and the ensemble. Both bring out different mockable traits of the
upper class which are ripe for satire: the general lack of common ground for empathy
with those not born to wealth, and the use of charitable work for social
reputation. The lyrics are wicked funny.
Charitable work at its...well, something.
The ensemble bears mentioning too. Edgard Aleman, Bridget
Gill, James O’Hearn, Hope Ormonde, Kate Whalen Gill, and Jacquiline Salazar had to carry multiple
parts as well as the big musical numbers. No part in this musical was easy,
even though the ensemble parts can be overlooked. The performance started off
with a few hiccoughs in ensemble and pitch, but settled in. The ensemble pulled
together, and was on the dot for the rest. Likewise, I appreciated that Stars
continues to hire live musicians for their productions. In this case, that mean
three string parts, which are so rare these days.
Oh, and I should mention that the kids greatly enjoyed it.
McDonald got particular laughs for the muscle suit he wore as Bartholomew. As
he is “fun size” like me, I mentioned to the kids that now they know what I
would look like on steroids. The response was that my legs would be bigger.
(Sorry, Kevin. But at least know that they have no respect for my dignity
either…)
A Gentleman’s Guide to
Love and Murder runs for two more weekends, so if you are a Kern County
local, come on out and see it. (Tickets here.)
This fall promises to be full of great local theater as well. I know there is
no way I can see it all, but will catch the ones I can.
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