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It's up to you, New York
Broadway season goes up in cost, down in quality
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fter two recent trips to New York City,
I am sad to report that the malaise of
mediocrity that has been afflicting Broad
way and off-Broadway theater the past
few years (OK, make that the past decade) is
not showing any sign of improving. As ticket
prices keep ascending, the levels of quality,
ingenuity and sheer theatrical excitement keep
descending. Being in New York is still a thrill,
hut unfortunately the charge doesn’t exactly
come from what is on its stages anymore.
Starting with the best, at least one could say
the past season had no dearth of new musicals.
Many of these shows had gixxl intentions and
attempted to he both fresh and new—they just
didn’t quite succeed.
The biggest artistic success of the season,
judging from critics and musical aficionados,
was The Light in the Piazza. I wanted to love
this show but was defeated at every turn. The
libretto (the piece was very nearly a sung-thni
pop-era) was based on a 1950s short story and
film that are Lifetime Television quality at
best—the old overprotective-mother-leaming-
to-let-go-and-allow-her-daughter-who-was-
kicked-in-the-head-by-a-pony-to-finaily-find-
love-in-picaresque-Florence-with-an-ltalian-
stud-muffin plot. Adam Guettel, whose bril
liant score for Floyd Collins remains one of the
most exciting musical theater works of the past
10 years, tried hard for romantic ecstasy here
but was defeated by his leaden lyrics and by
music that was forever yearning to soar but
remained sadly earthbound.
Another one of Broadway’s current crop of
new age composers, William Finn, got lots of
notice for the cult hit The 25th Annual Putnam
County Spelling Bee, but again there was a whiff
of “Emperor’s New Clothes” about this off-
Broadway transfer to Circle in the Square. The
cast was amusing if a bit overeager, the songs
mostly uninspired (especially next to Finn’s
masterful work on Falsettos and A New Brain)
and rhe production wittily designed and direct
ed. Still, it just didn’t add up. Rachel
Sheinkin’s book was very funny at times, but
did every one of these child contestants have
to be pint-sized grotesques? There was some
thing uncomfortable and demeaning about this
freaks-and-geeks sideshow that somehow put a
damper on the evening.
Dirty Rotten Scoundrels, based on the 1988
film starring Michael Caine and Steve Martin,
was a delightful surprise—the work of some
clever musical theater talents combining to
create an entertaining, old-fashioned musical
comedy. David Yazbek’s score was both service
able and mildly memorable, Jeffrey Lane’s txxik
very funny indeed and the work of the cast
simply stellar—especially Norbert Leo Butz’s
hilarious Tony-winning star turn. Jack
O’Brien’s effortless direction gave the evening
panache, and the whole show was an un
expected, somewhat guilty, pleasure.
The biggest hit of the Broadway season was
undeniably Spamalot, rhe merrily mad musical
version of the 1975 cult film Monty Python and
the Holy Grail. This fun house of a show was
filled with inspired idiocy and a wickedly sharp
satiric edge. Impeccably directed by Mike
Nichols and blessed with a cast of inspired
clowns, Spamalot made the audience just plain
giddy. Almost everything in the show worked,
but a few performances raised the show to the
pantheon of comic heights: Tim Curry’s peer
lessly deadpan King Arthur, David Hyde
Pierce’s stylish comic genius epitomized in one
of Broadway’s greatest (and most unexpected)
11 o’clock numbers, Hank Azaria’s kxik of
befuddlement as he is initiated into gay life as a