Broadway and the Bay - Live Theater in March 2024

 

 

My wife and I finally got to take a longer trip together - for the first time since 2016 and Paris - and went to New York City. It was my first visit, but her second; she and a friend went in 2022, a trip that had been planned for 2020, but things, um, happened. 

 

I probably mentioned this, but my wife is a big Broadway fan. We both love live theater - our first date was Shakespeare, after all - but Broadway is very much her thing. Her prior trip was to see Hugh Jackman and Sutton Foster in The Music Man, and she grabbed discount last-minute tickets for a few other shows. 

 

For this trip, the main attraction was Merrily We Roll Along, one of Stephen Sondheim’s flops. Well, at least initially. More about that later. I picked a performance at the Metropolitan Opera for my main show, and we saw Puccini’s Turandot. With the exception of Monday night, when most Broadway theaters close, we got last-minute seats for every additional night of our trip. 

 

In addition, my wife discovered that an obscure Gilbert and Sullivan operetta was playing several hours away the weekend before our trip, so I am including that in this post. 

 

I will discuss the shows in the order I saw them. Because there are so many, I will not be writing full-length discussions of each due to time constraints. There are many other things that would be fun to discuss about each, from the details of staging to the nuances of the themes. My wife and I did discuss each after we saw them, either over dinner (NYC is actually open after 10 PM!) or cocktails. I cannot imagine anyone I would rather go see shows with for that reason. 

 

Ruddygore (Gilbert and Sullivan)

 

This show was playing up in Mountain View (for non-Californians, that is in Silicon Valley), close enough to drive up for the day and see a matinee. 

 

Ruddygore is not well known outside of the tribe of Gilbert and Sullivan fans. It’s initial run was a flop, in significant part because of poor acting, but also because audiences found the plot to be unsatisfying. I am not entirely sure why, as G&S plots are, pretty much by the conventions of comic operetta, thoroughly silly. I mean, Cosi Fan Tutti is even sillier, but whatever. 

 

The second run went better. The name was changed to Ruddigore (apparently because “ruddy” was too close to “bloody” and thus profanity), and some songs and dialogue were changed. Whether the changes themselves were sufficient, or if audiences just reacted differently the second time is unclear. For my part, I don’t understand what the initial distaste was about - the operetta is hilarious and satirical and a lot of fun. I am also using the original spelling, as this production did. 

 

The basic idea is this: The Murgatroyds, dukes of Ruddygore, have been cursed by a witch, after the progenitor of the family engaged in witch hunts. Every duke must henceforth commit a crime a day, or he will be tortured to death by his ancestors. 

 

The latest duke, Ruthven, has disappeared, and, as we soon learn, is living as a gentleman farmer under the name of Robin Oakapple. His younger brother, Despard, has ascended to the dukedom, and is living as a proper villain. 

 

Young Rose is the niece of Dame Hannah (who was once engaged to another of the Murgatroyds), and the most eligible single lady in town. She has been raised by her aunt…and a book of etiquette. Because of this, she believes the man must take the first step. She has interest in Robin, but he is too shy and unconfident to speak his love. 

 

Also in the mix is Robin’s foster brother, Richard Dauntless, who is a sailor and a rake; and Mad Margaret, who was engaged to Despard. 

 

Got all that? 

 

This is, naturally, the setup for everything to go wrong, before being made right. 

 

I won’t get into the plot more than that, but I will mention some of the scenes and songs. 

 

This particular production was set in Mexico, and the dancing is folklorico. This gave the director some fun and interesting options for telling the story, which I thought worked well. 

 

First, during the overture, the projected background portrayed the characters as loteria cards. Each was featured in turn, with a little background information on the character, to help the audience figure out who everyone was in advance. This was quite helpful - although I also read the libretto beforehand. (We own a lovely two volume Folio Society set of the Savoy Operettas.) 

 

Second, Richard Dauntless was played with exaggerated machismo, perfect for the part. 

 

The production also had a live orchestra, which is always appreciated. 

 

In general, the acting was done in a melodrama style, with stylized rather than realistic characterization. Given the silly plot, this really is the way to go. Don’t take things too seriously. 

 

One of the scenes that apparently flopped initially occurs in the second act, when the paintings of the ancestors come to life and hassle poor Ruthven. I am hard pressed to believe that the audiences of the time failed to note that the whole thing is a parody of the visit of the statue in Don Giovanni - and that includes the music itself. It is truly hilarious, and yet a bit more chilling than Gilbert and Sullivan typically are. 

 

In this production, there is another fun nod. As Don Giovanni prepares for his dinner party, the orchestra plays familiar songs - including one from The Marriage of Figaro, which Leporello comments he knows far too well. 

 

In Ruddygore, when the ghosts give Ruthven a sample of the agonies he will face, they sing (badly indeed) songs from other Gilbert and Sullivan operettas, causing Ruthven to say “I had no idea it was anything like that!” 

 

There is so much more I could say about the operetta, but I have to get to the other shows we saw as well. 

 

Special call outs to Noah Evans, as the foppish and timid Ruthven (great physical acting and so hilarious), Sabrina Romero-Wilson as the virginal and fickle Rose, and Eduardo Gonzalez-Maldonado as the swaggering Dauntless. Overall, great singing and acting - a fine production. 

 

An Enemy of the People by Henrik Ibsen

 

I just missed a chance to go see this play in Los Angeles before the pandemic, but went ahead and read it, intending to see it live whenever I could. I wrote about the play itself in this post, and noted that the second half of the play was increasingly bizarre and misanthropic. In particular, the hero (to the extent there is one), Dr. Stockman, goes off on a rather eugenicist rant, which alienates everyone from him. 

 

Subsequent playwrights, most notably Arthur Miller, have noted the problems, and made attempts to make Dr. Stockman more palatable, or at least understandable. 

 

In this production, the revised version was done by Amy Herzog, who took kind of a middle road. The most poisonous of the eugenics are removed - the stuff that would tend to sound like racial slurs to a 21st Century American audience - but she leaves in his classist views, and very much makes the way the citizens of the town turn on Dr. Stockman to be fully believable. I very much liked the adaptation - I felt it preserved the character of the play without losing anything while also modernizing the language. 

 

What this does, though, is leave the character of Dr. Stockman as problematic - is he the hero? Is he doing the right thing, but in the wrong way? Is he allowing his own prejudices to undermine his goals? 

 

Clearly, this requires an excellent actor to make all of the internal contradictions coherent. Jeremy Strong (probably best known for Succession, but he got his start on Broadway) played the part, and gave the best male performance in any of the shows we saw. In my opinion. (And there was competition, believe me.) Just a fantastic job of showing the inner conflicts, the blind spots, the lack of self-awareness that dooms him. 

 

Playing opposite him, as his brother, the mayor and capitalist who is willing to sacrifice lives for profit, was Michael Imperioli (The Sopranos), who nailed the lugubrious and ruthless nature of the character. It was easy to see the combination of conflicting motivations as well as the sibling rivalry. 

 

Those were the big headliners, but all of the parts were well done. I’ll mention Victoria Pedretti in the role of Petra. Speaking of which, the major change that Herzog made was to combine the character of Petra (Dr. Stockman’s daughter) with that of Katherine, his wife. Katherine is killed off before the play opens, and Petra gets her lines as well as her own. I think this actually worked well, as I felt there was some overlap. Katherine in the original version is the supportive wife, while Petra is the somewhat radical schoolteacher. It was easy enough for one woman to do both. 

 

We saw this at Circle in the Square, a theater in the round. Even with back-row seats, we were close to the action, and heard every line clearly. 

 

Another interesting twist in the production is that the meeting that opens the second act was set in a bar, which was set up on the stage. Audience members who gave ID before the show then got a shot of Linie Aquavit - the Norwegian spirit with strong caraway notes. I suspect there was a sponsorship agreement of some sort, but it actually really worked. The audience came up on stage and was essentially part of the meeting as the play resumed. 

 

I’ll end by noting that this play truly seems relevant today. While the original public health issue was bacteria in the water, it tracks for both Covid response and climate change. In both cases, appropriate response and correction has been difficult in no small part because all of society is complicit and stands to lose financially. And that, unfortunately, includes the little guy - perhaps he loses the most because he has the least reserve to weather a transition. 

 

Turandot by Giacomo Puccini

 

I will admit that I love Puccini’s music. Of course it is emotionally manipulative and schmaltzy - that is the point, and there is nothing wrong with that. Of his operas, I am the most fond of Turandot, in no small part because the score is so gorgeous and innovative. There were a few different operas we could have seen, but I went with this one, and was not disappointed. 

 

The plot is, naturally, dramatic. Its origins are in a 12th Century Persian poetic epic, with the story modified over time by Francoise de al Croix, Carlo Gozzi, and Friedrich Schiller, in that order, before Puccini enlisted Giuseppe Adami and Renato Simoni to write the libretto. 

 

Puccini himself died before he could complete Turandot, but left enough sketches behind so that Franco Alfano was able to complete the orchestration. One casualty of the death is that the ending seems to be lacking either an aria or a duet to flesh out how Turandot comes to love Prince Calaf. As it is, the transition seems a bit sudden and forced, and you have to read between the lines. 

 

The opera also has its problematic elements, as the program noted. Even in its original Persian form, it exoticised “China” as a place of barbarity and superstition, and Puccini’s version contains some stereotyping that would not be put on stage today. Like many masterworks of the past, you have to look beyond the flaws and enjoy the good. Most likely future generations will do the same for what we write today. 

 

The story is a bit like others in The Arabian Nights. Princess Turandot, furious about the way her ancestor was raped and murdered by an invading prince, has sworn never to marry, but to have her revenge on men. She therefore decrees that any man who wishes to woo her must answer her three riddles. If he fails, he is beheaded. 

 

Enter Prince Calaf, who decides to risk his life for his love of Turandot. His elderly father begs him not to do it. His father’s faithful servant, Liu, who has harbored a crush on Calaf since childhood, begs him not to do it. Alas, he does not return Liu’s love. 

 

Calaf successfully answers the riddles, to Turandot’s horror. She never expected to have to marry, and asks Calaf if he would take her by force. Calaf replies that he would rather that she burn with desire for him, and gives her an out: if she can tell him his name, then he will release her from her obligation to marry him, and submit to execution. 

 

This sets off a frantic search to discover Calaf’s name. Liu, seeing that Calaf’s father may be tortured, claims that she alone knows his name and will never reveal it. She steals a dagger from a guard and kills herself, to Calaf’s horror. 

 

At the end, just before the sunrise that will mark the deadline to reveal his name, Calaf places his life in Turandot’s hands, telling her his name. At the climax, Turandot announces she knows his name - it is Love - and agrees to marry him. 

 

It is a tragedy even amid the happy ending - for Liu, there is no winning, and the grief of unrequited love can only find its end in her sacrifice for her beloved. 

 

For Calaf, he wins his victory the right way. (I don’t blame him for Liu - he didn’t owe her his love, and never made any promise to her - and he is genuinely shocked when she chooses death.) That telling scene with Turandot, where he declines to have her against her will is powerful - he will have her love because she loves, not by obligation. 

 

For Turandot, while her reasons are left out (possibly due to the death of the composer as noted above), it isn’t difficult to imagine them. Calaf is the first suitor who takes her intellect seriously, engaging with the riddles and guessing her personality in creating them. He respects her reluctance to marry, and gives her an out. And, in the end, with victory in reach, he chooses to be vulnerable, to literally place his life in her hands, and have her for love, or not at all. It is a better ending than most fairy tales, in my opinion. 

 

As for this production, no superlative seems enough. Los Angeles has a lot of things going for it, but it really does not have the level of opera that the Met can provide. For one thing, I don’t think there is a stage and pit of the size needed. 

 

There were over 100 singers on stage, a huge orchestra, and incredible sets. As for the sets, they took two intermissions - one after each act - and they were long due to the need to completely remove and rebuild the sets, each of which were different and changed during the acts themselves. After the opening of the second act, the screens were removed, revealing a whole structure behind it, and you could hear the audience gasp - it was that unexpected. 

 

So, total spectacle, which is what grand opera is supposed to be. The singing was outstanding all around, and the orchestra sounded phenomenal - totally together and in sync with the singers. 

 

Even those who aren’t into opera have to love a little Nessun Dorma, right? Calaf’s aria where he expresses his optimism that he is going to win this thing is so delicious that I enjoyed it even if the audience did applaud before the orchestra finished that final cadence - come on people! The orchestra matters too! 

 

It really was a wonderful night, and my favorite of the productions we saw. Although, obviously, I enjoyed all of them. 

 

Sweeney Todd by Stephen Sondheim and Hugh Wheeler

 

One of the mad skills my wife has is knowing how to get tickets to stuff. For the ones we knew would be super popular, she got them well in advance. For the ones that would likely have tickets available up until the day of the performance, she waited in line for the discount ones. The first of these was Sweeney Todd. 

 

I was familiar with the musical, but had never seen it in person. It has been done locally, with Ken Burdick as the titular character - my wife saw that one, but I either was out of town or had a concert. 

 

The character of Sweeney Todd has been around since the Victorian Era, making his first appearance in print in The String of Pearls, an anonymous penny dreadful. Sondheim based the musical on the 1970s play by Christopher Bond. 

 

The story should be familiar enough. Sweeney Todd is a barber who was wrongfully convicted and transported so that a corrupt judge and beadle could have his beautiful wife. Returning to England, vowing revenge, he sets up his barber shop above a meat pie shop run by Mrs. Lovett - the worst pies in London! 

 

After Todd kills a blackmailer, Mrs. Lovett comes up with a plan to dispose of the body - and things escalate from there pretty fast. 

 

It is best not to take this musical too seriously. It is lurid and violent of course, but also really funny. A macabre sense of humor and an appreciation for Sondheim’s delicious lyrics are a must. 

 

I particularly want to mention that this show had the single best performance we saw the whole week. Sutton Foster played Mrs. Lovett, and she is incredible in every possible way. From the physical acting to the dancing to the singing in an accent while remaining on perfect pitch - every facet of her performance was amazing, and she totally owned the stage in every scene. No shade to Aaron Tveit in the title role - he was great - but nobody could compete with Foster. She is a superstar for a reason. 

 

Another mention goes to Mia Pinero in the role of Johanna. She was the understudy in several roles, and got to shine in this particular performance. Great job and really excellent singing. 

 

The set was rather cool too - lots of moving parts that could be rearranged. 

 

It was fun to see this show together, because my wife knows an incredible amount about Sondheim’s works and about music theater in general, so I always learn things talking with her afterwards. 

 

I’ll note that this show, like all of them (except An Enemy of the People for obvious reasons) had a live orchestra, which I always love. Sondheim’s score for Sweeny Todd may well be his best. Very symphonic, with fascinating rhythms and harmonies - definitely not a boilerplate musical - and a near-operatic use of music to move the plot forward. 

 

Chicago by John Kander, Fred Ebb, and Bob Fosse

 

This was another last-minute choice, with a couple of backups if we had failed to get tickets. I hadn’t seen Chicago before, and went in with no idea what it was about, which is kind of fun sometimes.

 

I appreciated that the band was on stage throughout. This left a limited space for the acting and dancing, and the sets were minimal, but this is part of the experience. Likewise, all of the performers except poor Amos were dressed in chorus girl or guy outfits throughout - Amos got a bland suit, for his invisibility.

 

The show is a send-up of celebrity “justice,” which seems pretty relevant now with a certain orange messiah continuing to avoid actual incarceration, which would have happened years ago for us ordinary folk had we done what he did. It also is a satire of show conventions, with plenty of tongue-in-cheek lines and knowing winks. So basically a lot of fun. 

 

The show opens with Roxie gunning down her paramour for trying to break things off with her, and her husband Amos agreeing to take the blame. 

 

This pretense only holds until Amos realizes who the victim is, and that he has been cuckolded. Roxie’s arrest and subsequent trial are the main plot, but there is also the matter of aging star Velma, also awaiting trial for the murder of her husband and sister, who she caught in flagrante delicto. Roxie is the younger and newer celebrity murderess, who steals Velma’s lawyer, her tabloid attention, and her trial date. 

 

The lawyer is Billy, who is in it for the money. Although, to be honest here, his lawyering seems ethical enough. His job is to get a not-guilty verdict for his female clients, and in order to do that, he has to portray them as victims. This is pretty standard stuff, and demanding large fees for the task is fair enough - capital cases are time eaters and need to be done right. So, as a lawyer, I’ll deduct points for smarminess, and add points for fairly good adherence to actual legal procedure, albeit stylized. 

 

Poor Amos, though. He can’t catch a break, and he is ruthlessly taken advantage of by Roxie. His sad aria about being invisible was hilarious. And also, the actor playing him (I can’t find my playbill for this one) was perfect in the role. He not only looks like a cartoon loser from a century ago, he had such a hangdog aspect and delivery. 

 

Velma too was a real scene-stealer, with a big voice and the best dance moves in the cast. 

 

Overall, I would say Chicago was the most fluffy of the shows we saw, all about the fun and laughs and satire. Which, considering how dark the other shows were, was a nice contrast. 

 

Merrily We Roll Along by Stephen Sondheim and George Furth

 

As I mentioned above, Merrily We Roll Along was one of Sondheim’s flops. It got negative reviews, and closed after a mere 16 performances, in many of which the audience walked out. Yikes. 

 

Part of the problem may have been the casting decision. All of the parts were cast as teens or young adults - the age of the characters at the start of the chronology. The costumes were identical, making it hard for the audience to keep the characters straight, and the themes didn’t resonate. 

 

The basis for the musical was an earlier play by George Kaufman and Moss Hart, updated a bit for a new era. The original also had a rough initial run, finding only modest success later. Sondheim switched the era so that Hollywood would play a major role in the plot, and also changed the specifics and names of the characters. 

 

What Sondheim did retain is the backward structure of the original. When we first meet the characters, it is at the end of the story, when they are middle-aged and disillusioned. Each scene goes back a few more years until the play ends with the naive, idealistic, and hopeful youths looking forward to an open future, oblivious to the trauma that awaits them. 

 

If one were to tell the story forward, it is of three friends: composer Franklin Shepard, playwright Charlie Kringas, and journalist Mary Flynn. They meet-cute as young people, and swear friendship. 

 

For a while, things go well. Franklin and Charlie become a lyrics and music pair, with the dream of writing a political musical, Take a Left, and in the meantime paying bills by writing and performing in witty revues at a local theater. 

 

They are eventually discovered by agent Joe, and have a few hits on the stage. 

 

But there are problems. Mary’s love for Franklin is unrequited. He instead marries Beth, they have a son, and eventually divorce when Frankin has an affair with Joe’s wife Gussie. Franklin pushes for more and more commercial success, in part because he has child support payments to keep up. This in turn causes conflict with Charlie, who wants to retain the purity of their art, not sell out any further. 

 

A catastrophic television interview forever severs that friendship, and Mary, who has fallen by the wayside, slides into alcoholism. 

 

In a way, each finds success - Franklin has Hollywood blockbusters which are vapid and forgettable but make money; Charlie wins a Pulitzer for one of his plays, and enjoys a happy marriage with his longtime sweetheart; and Mary’s book sells well enough and is translated into other languages. 

 

But these victories are hollow. Franklin would trade his celebrity for what Charlie has - an intact marriage and artistic integrity. Charlie has lost his dearest friendships, in part because of his inability to discuss things directly, letting his frustration build up until he snapped. Mary never finds love - by the time Franklin is finally single again, she realizes he is not worth the bother. 

 

So yes, some heavy themes. Not least of which is one that very much resonates for me at my age. There was a time when I was looking at a future which seemed endlessly open, all possibilities on the table. I am thinking particularly of some of those nights with my then girlfriend (now wife) when we were hopelessly optimistic about the future. 

 

To be fair, many of our hopes and dreams really did come true. We have had a good marriage, we have five children who we are proud of, and have enjoyed. (Some are about to fly the nest, which really does mean I am getting old.) My wife’s career dreams have been met, and I have done all right in my quiet legal practice. 

 

But there are other things we could never have anticipated: Trump and Covid are big ones, of course. My estrangement from my parents - it is hard to believe I was once naive enough to think my mom would eventually embrace my wife, but youth will be youth. 

 

Even the good things, though, have gone from the realm of anticipation and imagination, and there is a certain bittersweetness about that. I have thoroughly enjoyed being a parent (at least most of the time), but I can see the end approaching as my kids grow up. There are things we hoped to do but haven’t. The “is” is pretty darn good and I’m not complaining, but there will always be the “what might have been.” 

 

One could describe this as the aching sadness of existence. And also the beauty of life, ephemeral as it is. 

 

This show was the one with the biggest headliners, so my wife got tickets well in advance. Jonathan Groff played Franklin, and was, in my opinion, the most consistently good performer. He has a great voice, with an excellent ability to project at low volumes, dances like a pro, and inhabited his character. He’s worth seeing in any role. 

 

Mary was played by Lindsay Mendez, who has a long list of Broadway credits. She was great, and did a great job particularly of portraying the different ages of her character. 

 

For many in attendance, I suspect Daniel Radcliffe as Charley was the main draw. He is a bit of a different performer than the other two. He sings in tune and pleasantly, but he doesn’t have a particularly big voice - it isn’t Broadway in character exactly. But his acting is really excellent. Charley is in my opinion the hardest part in the show. He is, on the one hand, intended to be the most likeable character, the one the others tend to take for granted. But he also has to lash out pretty viciously on live television, so it is important that the character be developed sufficiently so that the snap makes sense in context. 

 

Oh, and this has to be done backwards. 

 

Yeah, it’s a tough part, and I thought Radcliffe sold it really well. I’ll also note that Radcliffe had to compete with actors who have done Broadway for a lot longer than he has, and also who are all taller than him. (As a short guy myself, I fully sympathize.) He had to work harder to project presence and assert himself as the equal of the others. 

 

Circling back to the idea of the backwards format, I think this was a challenge in general, and may have been a reason for the initial failure of the show. So many things have to not only go backwards, but have to be kept in chronological order in the characters’ heads. 

 

Not only do they have to grow in reverse, so to speak, to regress toward the womb of youth, they have to act the early scenes fully aware of the later (in the show but earlier in chronology) scenes that explain the ones they act first. 

 

The music itself does this too - we hear the reprises of songs before we hear the original versions the reprises reference and alter. The emotional impact of each trauma comes out first, before we see the better times of the original. Keeping all of this in mind is a huge demand on the actors. 

 

I felt they rose to the occasion quite well - not just the leads but the supporting characters. The whole felt coherent to me, and the way the emotional arc felt complete at the end, backwards, was impressive. 

 

The music was very Big Band era, so a lot different than the other Sondheims I have experienced. My wife says it has a number of things in common with Company, which she saw on her last trip to New York. (Weirdly, I have never seen that show, but have played a tune from it at a wedding…) 

 

The band was located on essentially a balcony above the stage, only partly visible, but easy to hear. It was a good score, and Sondheim’s quirky lyrics are always fun, even in a darker work like this one. 

 

So, there you have it. Our run of live theater and a much-needed getaway trip with my beloved.