Stage Left Podcast, 25 July 2009, Part 2

Originally broadcast April 12th, 2005 - Actor, writer and Firesign Theatre member Peter Bergman on the founding of America's premier (and only) surrealist audio theatre group, the Heartbreak of Radio, his TV soap opera doppelgänger, and other topics. Part 2 of 2. Click here to listen.

Stage Left Podcast, 25 July 2009, Part 1

Originally broadcast April 12th, 2005 - Actor, writer and Firesign Theatre member Peter Bergman on the founding of America's premier (and only) surrealist audio theatre group, the Heartbreak of Radio, his TV soap opera doppelgänger, and other topics. Part 1 of 2. Click here to listen.

Spiritual Values

The Ghosts of Versailles defies easy categorization. Composer John Corigliano describes it as "an entertaining [opera] buffa" that is "also a serious meditation on history and change: specifically, on how change comes about both in politics and in art". I'd describe it as an exceptionally smart piece of musical theatre that provokes both laughter and reflection. Either way, Opera Theatre of St. Louis's world premiere of this new performing version of the 1991 work (a co-production with the Vancouver and Wexford Festival opera companies) is a rousing success that deserves our attention.

In what the program notes describe as "a world beyond time", the ghosts of executed aristocrats haunt the palace where they once lived their pampered lives. Joining them is the spirit of playwright, diplomat and political visionary Pierre-Auguste Caron de Beaumarchais, who both mocked and defended those lives. In death, Beaumarchais has fallen in love with Marie Antoinette, who has never come to terms with the slanderous accusations - including forgery, swindling and incest - that were the pretext for her execution.

Beaumarchais declares that he will re-write history to save Marie Antoinette from the guillotine and (you should pardon the word) spirit her away to the New World by including these events in a new opera which he will stage for his fellow shades. Based on a play by the real Beaumarchais, L'autre Tartuffe, où La Mère Coupable (The New Tartuffe, or The Guilty Mother), the opera within an opera takes place twenty years after the events of The Marriage of Figaro. Beaumarchais's plan to use the former Barber of Seville to save the queen runs aground when Figaro has a sudden attack of class consciousness, however. When the playwright tries to set things right by becoming a character in his own plot things start to unravel and The Terror threatens to consume everyone all over again.

The breadth and depth of both William M. Hoffman's libretto and Corigliano's music are remarkable. The former combines conventional poetry, lofty prose, low comedy and philosophical discourse into a work that both celebrates and parodies the classic "well-made play". The latter ranges from ensembles of classically Mozartian elegance to a Rossini-style patter song (for Figaro, of course), to twelve-tone rows and clusters, a parody of middle-eastern wind music for a scene at the Turkish Embassy and even aleatoric segments that will probably change from one performance to another. There are also the expected in-jokes, including quotes from Mozart and Rossini and parodies of operatic conventions. At one point during the chaotic first act finale a character identified as The Woman in the Hat (Gerdine Young Artist Erin Holland) rushes downstage center and complains "This isn't opera! Wagner is opera!"

That all probably sounds like a bit of a mess, but on stage it coalesces into a compelling and highly entertaining evening that deftly combines the knockabout farce of the Beaumarchais adaptation with a sharp criticism of (in Corigliano's words) "modernists [who] demanded that we destroy, not merely rethink, the past to forge a new future". Real change, his view, can only come "by embracing the past (the opposed worlds of the commoner Beaumarchais and the regal Marie Antoinette) and moving into the future (as did that couple, finally united, in our opera)". He doesn't add (but I will) that the same could be said of life.

Some of the credit for the success of this production of Ghosts goes to Mr. Corigliano and Mr. Hoffman, who realized that their original version - written for the impressive technical facilities of the Metropolitan Opera - would need to be reworked if it were to have any life outside that lavish setting. Most of it, however, goes to Opera Theatre's stellar cast, musicians and design team.

With eighteen named roles, a trio of Gossips, an Opera Quartet (who, in a satirical jab at a certain type of opera fan, complain at length about how bored they are) and a corps of eight dancers, the cast of Ghosts stretches the Loretto Hilton center's thrust stage to its limits, but thanks to Stage Director James Robinson (who took on the equally daunting Nixon in China and Miss Havisham's Fire for OTSL with more uneven results) everything flows smoothly and Allen Moyer's relatively spare set never looks cluttered. If Mr. Moyer was also responsible for the ingenious use of projected images and video - a device which adds emotional and physical depth to the story - he deserves virtual applause for that as well.

The physical applause on Sunday night, of course, went to the uniformly talented cast. There are far too many of these wonderful performers to list them individually here - especially since the complete program is available at the OTSL web site - so I'll content myself with commenting on a few who struck me as particularly memorable. Your mileage may vary, as I'm so fond of saying.

Baritone James Westman and soprano Maria Kanyova carry the bulk of the show as Beaumarchais and Marie Antoinette, and do so brilliantly. I defy anyone to witness Ms. Kanyova's heart-rending account of her character's trial and execution without being moved. Baritone Christopher Felgium and mezzo Dorothy Byrne are just right as the cheerfully wily Figaro and his equally sharp wife Susanna. Soprano Jeanette Vecchione and tenor Samuel Read Levine are charming as Almaviva-crossed lovers Florestine and Léon.

Villainy, meanwhile, is impressively represented by tenor Matthew DiBattista as Bégearss. The Act I aria in which Figaro's nemesis exults in the fact that others regard him as a "worm" is equal parts Iago and Poe ("That the play is the tragedy, Man,' / And its hero, the Conqueror Worm") and is delivered with great flair. Baritone Lee Gregory provides a nice comic balance as Bégearss's inept henchman Wilhelm.

Other fine performances include tenor Sean Panikkar's Almaviva, soprano Hanan Alattar's Rosina, and mezzo Elizabeth Batton's Samira, who provides the surrealist entertainment in the Turkish Embassy scene.

If the Opera Theatre orchestra were an Olympic team (which, in some respects, it may be), its members and conductor Michael Christie would be strong contenders for the gold. Corigliano's score is so complex and involves so much rapid-fire give and take among the pit orchestra, singers and off-stage musicians that it's impressive enough to see it performed at all, let alone this well. Congratulations to all concerned.

The bottom line on The Ghosts of Versailles is that it's a stunning achievement - not only musically and theatrically but technically as well. Performances continue through June 27th at the Loretto Hilton center on the Webster University campus. For ticket information, call 314-961-0644 or visit the web site at opera-stl.org.

Forever Young

Has it really been 23 years since our own trusty and well-beloved Circus Flora first set up its mini Big Top in our fair city? It hardly seems possible. But then, it hardly seems possible that I once had hair. In any case, however old and creaky some us in the stands have gotten over the years, Circus Flora remains forever young.

Maybe that’s because nothing brings out the latent kid in each of us so well as two and one-half hours of music, comedy and great circus acts in an air-conditioned tent in which no seat is more than 42 feet away from the ring. If the antics of Nino (the multi-talented Giovanni Zoppé) and the other members of the Clown Cavalcade don’t have you in childish giggles, for example, the remarkably well-trained pound puppies (literally – they all come from animal shelters) of Johnny Peers and the Muttsville Comix will surely do it.

Want to recapture that youthful sense of wonder? Gaze in awe at the aerial acrobatics of The Flying Pages’ trapeze act or the always-impressive human pyramids of legendary tightrope walkers The Flying Wallendas. Want to long for your childhood? Be dazzled by the tumbling, juggling and overall talent of the kids of The St. Louis Arches, the performance troupe from our local circus school, Circus Harmony. Or admire the simple gracefulness of the Ianna Spirit Riders, another product of our homegrown circus talent. Any way you look at it, an evening with Circus Flora is a veritable fountain of youth.

That’s not to suggest that there aren’t acts with more adult appeal. Alesya Gulevich, two-time Guinness World Record holder for the largest number of hula hoops spun at one time, offers a fast-paced mix of juggling, dancing and acrobatics with a cheerfully sensual subtext. On opening night it took her two tries to complete that record-making spin which, of course, only made everyone applaud that much louder when it worked and she sent the last hoop flying with a toss of her head. There’s an element of sensuality, as well, to Sasha Alexandre Nevidonski’s variation on the aerial silk theme, in which he flies around the ring with assistance of his equine co-star Mammut.

Then there are acts that will appeal to pretty much everyone, such as Terry Crane’s remarkable vertical rope act – a variation on the silk routine that uses a thick rope to great effect. And who can resist the visceral thrill of Omar Chinibekov and The Riders of the Ring, with their classic high-speed Cossack trick riding? Not me, that’s for sure.

If I have a complaint – which, as a critic, I’m expected to do every now and then – it’s with the reduced visibility of Nino this time around. In the past, Mr. Zoppé’s endearingly loopy character has been a kind of warm-up act, wandering around the house before the show sowing small seeds of chaos amongst the adults and delighting the children. Establishing the connection with the audience early on pretty much guarantees an enthusiastic response to his second-act face off with narrator Yo-Yo (theatre director Cecil MacKinnon) over Nino’s determination to play his “saxophone” (actually a trombone that appears to have had a bad night). Without that, it takes a bit longer for it all to gel.

The title of this year’s show, Medrano, refers to Cirque Medrano, a Parisian circus once situated at the edge of the Montmarte district that attracted the artistic attention of Degas, Renoir and Toulouse-Lautrec, among others. Mostly it offers a rationale for the striking red and gold color scheme of the set, eye-catching late-19th century costumes, and a can-can inspired score by Miriam Cutler performed with their usual skill by the Circus Flora Band under the baton of Jeanine Del’Arte.

So return to those thrilling days of yesteryear and indulge yourself with Circus Flora’s Medrano. Performances take place Tuesdays through Sundays through June 21 in the air-conditioned big top tent on the parking lot adjacent to Powell Symphony Hall in Grand Center. For ticket information, call 314-534-1111 or visit the web site, circusflora.org .

Sure, outside the tent you’re still an adult surrounded by death, taxes and talk radio, but inside you’re a kid again and it’s all magic. Grab a handful of popcorn and enjoy.

Art in the Blood

Like the 1891 Oscar Wilde play on which it is based, Richard Strauss's 1905 opera Salome has been a source of controversy from the very beginning. Wilde's play was banned in England before it could be publicly performed. The opera, despite the stern disapproval of Kaiser Wilhelm II, encountered fewer obstacles, but was often condemned for its perceived immorality.

At the world premiere in Dresden soprano Marie Wittich refused to perform the "Dance of the Seven Veils", because she was " a decent woman". In a letter to Strauss, the dramatist Romain Rolland attacked the opera's "nauseous and sickly atmosphere" and its cast of "unwholesome, unclean, hysterical or alcoholic beings, stinking of sophisticated and perfumed corruption". In New York, the first production by the Metropolitan Opera closed after one night due to public outcry.

All of which raises the question: over a century later, does this remarkably intense opera still have the ability to shock and disturb? You mileage may vary, but after seeing Opera Theatre's production I'd say the answer is yes. In spades.

Granted, the "Dance of the Seven Veils", while certainly steamy enough to make dramatic sense, was somewhat less overtly sexual than it might have been. And the long confrontation between Salome and Jokanaan (John the Baptist) - in which the former tries every trick in her repertoire to seduce the latter - suffered from director Seán Curran's rather static staging - a bit of surprise, given Curran's background as a choreographer.

Those and a few other minor quibbles aside, however, this production of Salome is one of the most compelling and disturbing things you'll ever see on stage. Strauss's score is a remarkable combination of the conventional (for Jokanaan) and wildly adventurous that manages to be both technically complex and dramatically on target. The libretto it supports is compact and intense, unfolding in a single act of around 75 minutes. And Salome's final monologue, in which she caresses and finally kisses the severed head of Jokanaan, remains one of the most grotesque and unsettling scenes in opera.

The role of Salome is easily one of the most demanding in the repertoire. It calls for the stamina and range of a dramatic soprano but contains brief passages that drop down into alto territory. It requires an actress who can make the character's sexual obsession believable. And it demands the body and movement skills of a dancer. That's a combination of talents rare enough to oblige some companies to use a body double for the dance sequence.

Happily, Opera Theatre has Kelly Kaduce. If you've seen any of her previous OTSL triumphs - from her 2004 debut in Sister Angelica to last season's Madame Butterfly - you already know she has the vocal and acting chops for the role. Her Salome is a woman driven to self-destruction by a fixation on the unattainable. It's a completely compelling and utterly apt performance. And while she may not be a strong dancer, Mr. Curran has wisely given her choreography that, while not technically demanding, convincingly conveys an impression of single-minded sensuality.

Ms. Kaduce has a strong supporting cast. Jokanaan isn't called upon by either the libretto or the music to do anything very demanding - Strauss, in fact, is said to have found the character boring - but baritone Gregory Dahl does it all quite well, and with impeccable elocution.

Tenor Michael Hayes is a fine Herod, never allowing the role's collection of neurotic obsessions to deteriorate into the comedy you might get from a less skilled performance. As a result, the opera's one bit of actual comic relief - the quintet of Jews arguing endlessly about the nature of God - is that much more effective. Joshua Kohl, Joshua Lindsay, Zach Borichevsky, Brian Arreola and Andrew Harris get the credit for that.

Mezzo Maria T. Zifchak is appropriately haughty and caustic as Herodias and tenor Eric Margiore rounds out the solid lineup of principals as Narraboth, a moth who self-immolates when he gets too close to Salome's sexual flame.

Bruno Schwengl's set is a stark, forced-perspective box that draws the eye to Jokanaan's cistern - placed, somewhat improbably, on the upstage wall rather than on the floor. It is, perhaps, a bit too stark. Once Jokanaan has been brought on stage, the lack of any levels or set pieces means that there's not much for him to do but lumber around while Salome tries to seduce him. That scene aside, Seán Curran's direction is fluid and his choreography very effective. Paul Palazzo's lighting is striking but often leaves performer's faces in shadow.

Down in the pit, the expanded Opera Theatre orchestra performed the demanding and complex score with great skill under Stephen Lord's experienced baton. It's not the mammoth ensemble Strauss had in mind - there's only so much room down there, after all - but it sounded great.

Because it is so demanding, performances of Salome are not exactly commonplace, so this production would be worth seeing even if it were not a strong one. But it is, which moves it from the category of "worth seeing'' up to "essential". Be warned, however, that it's still pretty strong stuff, even in our present era of sex and violence-drenched media.

Salome runs in rotating repertory with three other operas through June 28th at the Loretto-Hilton Center, 135 Edgar Road in Webster Groves. For ticket information call the Opera Theatre box office at 314-961-0644.

Come to the Cabaret

[Disclaimer: some of the performers I'm going to refer to in this note are people I've performed and/or done cabaret conferences with. I'm egocentric enough to think that I can still be relatively objective about their work on stage but your mileage, as they say, may vary.]

The good news about Three-Legged Productions' latest show, It was a Very Good Year is that it was a very good show. The four performers - Anna Blair, Mark Kraft, Katie McGrath and John Flack (pictured) - all had opportunities to demonstrate their comic and dramatic chops. The music selection was nicely balanced between the familiar and the obscure. And the second act was one of the strongest I've seen on a local stage.

The bad news? The night that I attended (Thursday, May 21) they were doing all this good work for a house that was only about half full and consisted largely of other cabaret performers.

This is somewhat surprising. The cabaret scene has grown exponentially in the eight years I've been covering it for KDHX-FM and Cabaret Scenes. We've gone from a single producing entity importing national talent to multiple producers presenting an impressive array of local artists (like Blair and company) in addition to the out-of-towners.

So with all this activity, why aren't more people noticing?

Part of the problem, I think, is that public awareness of the wealth of local cabaret talent hasn't kept pace with the growth of that talent. Mass media coverage of the local cabaret scene is still scanty. Eight years ago I was the only critic covering the scene on a regular basks. That fact that I'm still the only one hardly seems reasonable.

Another part is St. Louis' long-standing artistic inferiority complex. Local audiences seem to assume that if you're practicing your art here in St. Louis, it must be because you're not good enough to do it somewhere else. An actor friend one remarked that the only way to make a living in the performing arts here was to leave town and then come back as an out-of-towner.

As a result, audiences who will turn out in droves for a mediocre show by someone with a national reputation won't walk across the street (literally) to see a far stronger production by local talent.

I'm not sure if there's any cure for the “we're not good enough” syndrome, but I do think that more coverage from the local media could only help. Cabaret is an immensely cool art form that's attracting younger performers and audiences. It's about time somebody started paying attention to that.

It would also help if Cabaret St. Louis - a well funded non-profit dedicated to promoting the art of cabaret in St. Louis - would step up to the plate. I love seeing Steve Ross, Tom Wopat and Liz Callaway as much as the next critic, but if we want to really make this a cabaret town, we need to encourage and nurture local talent. We need to build an audience for them because if we do that, we'll be building an audience for cabaret itself, not just for a select group of big-name stars.

So, to paraphrase a famous lyric, “come to the cabaret, old chum. And bring a couple dozen people with you.”

Old Bohemia

Although copies of Henri Murger's 1851 short story collection Scenes De La Vie Bohème are no longer the common sight on bookshelves that they once were, the principal characters have never fallen out of favor. The stories (originally published in a Paris literary magazine) inspired, among other things, an 1849 play, two operas and, most recently, the wildly successful rock musical Rent.

It's Puccini's 1896 opera La Bohème, however, that should probably get most of the credit for embedding the image of the starving artist in a Paris atelier into Western consciousness. A staple of companies around the world, it has become a perennial favorite at Opera Theatre of St. Louis as well. The current production, running through June 27th, is the fifth in their 34-year history. It's an exceptionally strong one, with a credible cast, brisk pacing, and solid orchestral backing by conductor Ari Pelto in his OTSL debut.

Former Gerdine Young Artist Allyson Cambridge, whose Fasquita made a strong impression in the company's 2004 production of Carmen, is a first-class Mimi - beautifully fragile and, except for one brief moment at the end of the first scene, in very fine voice despite the allergy problems which are the bane of so many singers visiting St. Louis.

Tenor Derek Taylor looks and sounds great as the passionate and angst-ridden poet Rudolfo, but to me his characterization seemed a bit lacking in depth, emphasizing Rudolfo's gloomy moodiness just a bit more than is necessary. That said, his final scene with the dying Mimi was every bit as heart wrenching as it should be and the famous Act I aria, "Che gelida manina", got all the passion it deserved.

Baritone Timothy Mix has the right mix of passion and compassion as the painter Marcello, locked in what we would now probably call a co-dependent affair with Musetta, Our Lady of the Relaxed Virtue. Amanda Majeski is just plain wonderful in that role, with a fine voice and strong stage presence that makes Marcello's obsession with her fully understandable.

There's strong supporting work here as well from Steven Humes as the philosopher Colline and Eugene Chan as the musician Schaunard. Their interaction with each other and the rest of the principals has a kind of "boys will be boys" camaraderie that's irresistible. A special tip of the critical beret is due as well to bass-baritone Matthew Lau for two brilliant comic turns as the easily-intoxicated landlord Benoit and the hapless sugar daddy Alcindoro, who is not only dumped by Musetta for Marcello but gets stuck with the bill (and a very cute little dog) as well.

Stage Director Tim Ocel has done a remarkable job here, especially with the huge Café Momus sequence that closes the first act. A small army of extras, including children and an actual marching band, flow in and out of the scene effortlessly without ever fracturing the dramatic focus. My only complaint is that much of what the chorus was singing in that scene was incomprehensible and the projected titles, alas, weren't able to keep up with it.

Erhard Rom has designed a set that's at once starkly realistic and highly mobile, allowing for a remarkably fluid change from the garret to the café. That's a tough combination to pull off, so congratulations are clearly in order. Ditto for lighting designer Robert Denton and costume designer Pat Sellyer.

The bottom line is that Opera Theatre has, once again, given us a first-rate production of one of the warhorses of the repertoire - and done so in a way that makes its 120-year old story seem newly minted. Performances will continue through June 27th in rotating repertory with three other operas at the Loretto-Hilton center on the Webster University campus. Call 314-961-0644 for ticket information.

Cheese Wiz

Watching Varla Jean Merman in action reminded me that what sex and comedy both have in common is that one's response to them is both spontaneous and completely idiosyncratic. A person is either sexy or s/he isn't. A joke is either funny or it isn't. And no amount of argument will persuade you one way or the other.

I bring this up not just to be pedantic, but as a way of explaining why it's not a knock on Varla Jean Merman that I found most of her show unamusing. The Very Worst of Varla Jean Merman is, in fact, a very clever, inventive and wildly energetic evening of vulgar, campy drag show-inspired comedy. The problem is that, as a middle-aged heterosexual who thinks Groucho Marx was the funniest person who ever lived, I'm just a member of the wrong demographic.

But first, for those of you who have not had the Varla Jean experience, a little background.

Billed as "the illegitimate love child of Ethel Merman and Ernest Borgnine", Varla Jean Merman is not a real person. Rather, she is a surreal person, sprung full-blown (you should pardon the expression) from the unlined brow of her alter ego, Jeffery Roberson. Indeed, Mr. Robertson inhabits the persona of Varla Jean with such conviction that I will, for the duration of this review, go along with the gag (you should pardon the expression again) and bestow upon Varla Jean the verisimilitude she deserves.

As a character, Varla Jean is Julie Budd crossed with Charles Busch - a deranged, druggie diva who has just stepped off the Bitter Bus loaded with outrageous parodies of Broadway standards ("My Favorite Things" with hip-hop lyrics, anyone?) and sotto voce slams at other singers ("that mic tastes like Liz Callaway"). As a performer, she delivers some of the grossest humor ever heard on the Savoy Room stage with impeccable timing, a remarkably well-controlled falsetto, some very stylish dance moves and a stunning collection of garishly tacky props and costumes (including a Josephine Baker-inspired banana outfit that she accurately describes as "almost as uncomfortable for me as it is for you").

The show sends up a variety of American Songbook standards and standard-issue pop tunes with a mix of live performances, slide shows and videos. "Talk to the Animals", for example, becomes the anatomically correct "Talk to the Genitals" (the only time I've ever heard "ovary" rhymed with "Madame Bovary") while "Dream a Little Dream of Me" turns into "Dream a Little Dream of Cheese" - a hymn to fermented curd that concludes with Ms. Merman singing while inhaling about half a can of an aerosol cheese-like substance. Take that, Señor Wences ! There's even a Christmas segment involving hand and foot bells that was, I have to admit, pretty hilarious; ditto an R-rated parody of tunes from Schoolhouse Rock. "Conjunction Junction", indeed.

The audience response to all this lunacy was decidedly mixed. Among those of us who had not seen Ms. Merman previously - the "Varla Virgins", to use her term - it was hit and miss. Some bits were received with chuckles, some with belly laughs and others with silence. A few Cabaret St. Louis regulars even left early. My own response was around one-thirds amusement and two-thirds ennui.

Ms. Merman's admirers had no such reservations, and there were more than enough of them in attendance to override any diffidence from the rest of us. Happily, Varla Jean is too much of a pro to just play to the fans, so I only occasionally felt like someone who had been invited to the wrong party.

I have noted, in the past, that cabaret is a big tent with room for a wide variety of performance styles. Until I saw The Very Worst of Varla Jean Merman, however, I had no idea that it could also be a Big Top. Thanks to Ms. Varla Jean and her very talented creator, Jeffrey Roberson, for opening my eyes to that possibility. Thanks also to Varla Jean's music director Tom Shaw for joining in the fun without getting in the way of the main attraction.

For more information about Varla Jean Merman's perambulations, check out her web site, varlaonline.com . You can also find many of her videos at youtube.com .

The Very Worst of Varla Jean Merman was a Cabaret St. Louis production. The season concludes, by way of spectacular contrast, with Opera Theatre Cabaret Night on Tuesday, June 16th, at the Kranzberg Center. For more information, visit cabaretstl.org or call 314-534-1111.

Dynamic Duo

There are times when, to paraphrase Mr. Gilbert, a critic's lot is not a happy one; times when the business of putting pen to paper (oh, all right - keyboard to screen, but allow me my anachronistic imagery) seems as pointless as the final episode of Battlestar Galactica.

This, dear friends, is one of those times.

The problem is not so much the fact that the show in question - An Evening with Patti LuPone and Mandy Patinkin - is already over as it is the fact that even if it were still running, anything I could write about it would have as much impact as playfully splashing at the Rock of Gibraltar. Both of these performers have enjoyed so much critical and popular success for so long that everyone who hasn't spent the last three decades on Pluto has already decided to either love or hate them. The first group would take out a second mortgage to watch them do Harvey in a church basement while the second couldn't be dragged to the theater on pain of death. So what the hell am I going to say?

Well, let's start by suggesting that the show should really be titled An Evening with MANDY PATINKIN and Patti LuPone. It was, after all, conceived by Patinkin and music director/pianist Paul Ford and directed by Patinkin. Yes, both he and his co-star have equal time on stage, but it's Patinkin's performance that tends to stand out in my memory. Not because it was better, but because it was so energetic and so often filled with sometimes bizarre (but always precise and controlled) vocal and physical shtick. Hence those capital letters a couple sentences back.

His fans loved it, of course. And even when I didn't particularly like what he was doing with (say) Sondheim's "Buddy's Blues" or "Franklin Shepard Inc", I was still impressed by the sheer virtuosity of it. For me, though, he was most effective when he dropped the flash and simply got to the real emotion behind the lyrics of a song like "Somewhere That's Green".

Getting to the emotional core of a song is apparently Ms. LuPone's long suit. She absolutely nailed ballads like "A Quiet Thing" (from Kander and Ebb's Flora the Red Menace) or "What's the Use of Wond'rin", and was even able to re-create her signature "Don't Cry for Me, Argentina" without pandering. Her unfailing ability to find the psychological truth behind every lyric, I think, is what made it so easy to accept her as Nellie Forbush in the scenes from South Pacific or Julie Jordan in the Carousel sequence - roles in which you would never cast her today. She did tend to come a cropper in rapid-fire patter songs like "Not Getting Married Today", but then so did Mr. Patinkin. I think they both need to bear in mind that when it comes to Sondheim, faster is not necessarily better.

The show itself is an interesting hybrid of cabaret and book musical. Meticulously scripted and directed, it re-creates, with minimal staging and spoken dialog, big moments from a half-dozen Broadway shows, knitting them together with snippets of American Songbook classics ranging from the well worn to the relatively obscure. For some, this was probably a case of too much talk and too little singing, but I thought the balance was about right.

That said, I found some of the "one of" numbers to be the most enjoyable. The fanciful rolling desk-chair choreography (from Broadway legend Ann Reinking) that accompanied Murray Grand's "April in Fairbanks", for example, was great fun, and Ms. LuPone's performance of "In Buddy's Eyes" - a relatively neglected number from Sondheim's Follies - was unexpectedly touching.

Paul Ford on piano and John Beal on bass provided world-class accompaniment for the evening. When the stars got a bit ahead of or behind the beat, they brought everything back together masterfully. I would have enjoyed hearing a bit more of them, but given the fact that the audience came to see and hear the stars, that probably was not a realistic expectation.

By the time this appears, Mr. Patinkin and Ms. LuPone will be on their way to the next gigs. You can find out what they're up to at mandypatinkin.net and pattilupone.net , respectively.

Meanwhile Cabaret St. Louis, which sponsored the show, winds down its spring season with Lina Koutrakos' intense Torch show April 22nd through 25th at the Kranzberg Center and (by way of drastic contrast) The Worst of Varla Jean Merman on May 14th at the Sheldon. The season picks up in the fall with return engagements at the Kranzberg by Maude Maggart (October 21st through 24th) and Steve Ross (November 4th through 7th) along with first-time appearances by Nellie McKay (November 18th through 21st) and the mother and son team of Bill Charlap and Sandy Stewart (December 9th through 12th). For more information, check out cabaretstl.org .

Bungle in the Jungle

If imitation is the sincerest flattery then the creators of the international entertainment behemoth Cirque du Soleil ought to be really flattered by Jungle Fantasy, the latest show from the Florida-based franchise Cirque Dreams. How flattered? Let me count the ways.

Singing female protagonist (Mother Nature, in this case) who leads male protagonist on a journey of discovery? Check. Non-stop, vaguely world-beat-style music? Check. Lots of European circus performers? Well, they're mostly from what used to be the Soviet Union but, yeah, check. Colorful costumes and sets? Yup. Lots of jaw-dropping, spectacular performances?

Well, you can't have everything.

That's not to say that there aren't some great acts in Jungle Fantasy, only that there aren't nearly enough of them. Probably the most impressive were Vladimir Dovgan and Anatoliy Yeniy, decked out in Day-Glo zebra-patterned outfits and balancing on top of tables stacked on a metal cylinder and then, even more insanely, on top of five stacked cylinders. Equally remarkable was the classic static balancing act of the "Jungle Kings", six strongmen decked out in lion-inspired costumes. Their combination of strength and control was world class. Ditto the "Contorting Lizards" - four impossibly nubile young women from Mongolia where the ancient art of contortionism is apparently something of a national sport.

There's also skilled juggling, including a short but eye-popping nine-ball routine from Russia's Andrey Averyushkin and a flashy routine using open geometric shapes (pyramids, square and the like) to form rapidly changing patterns in the air.

The rest of the acts are somewhere between competent and good. Some of the creature costumes were quite ingenious (my wife was especially taken with the colorful frogs) and the impossibly tall electronic violinist Jared Burnett made the most of the score, such as it was. The main problem is that nothing in the show - including the monotonous music and pedestrian lyrics - is all that original. You'd think that a company with $2.5 million to spend on its own 20,000 square foot production, rehearsal and training space could come up with something more creative than this. If Jungle Fantasy is any indication, Cirque Dreams is (to paraphrase J. Michael Straczynski) little more than Cirque du Soleil with the serial numbers filed off.

That said, I'd be less than honest if I didn't report that much of the opening night audience at the Fox seemed to be enjoying the show. Most of them even laughed at the opening routine, in which a pair of alleged clowns made fun of two pre-auditioned audience members. I found it predictable and annoying, but then my standard for that bit of business is the pre-show shenanigans of Circus Flora's incredibly charming Nino (Giovanni Zoppe), so perhaps my expectations are too high.

The bottom line on Cirque Dreams: Jungle Fantasy is that if you've never seen Cirque du Soleil and aren't a regular at Circus Flora you might find this glossily packaged imitation entertaining. Small children almost certainly will. Whether or not you think that's worth up to $63 per seat is your call. The show runs through March 29th at the Fox; call 314-534-1111 for ticket information.

Big Bang

As we approached the exultant coda of Saint-Saëns' Symphony No. 3 Friday morning [February 27, 2009] at Powell Hall, I was suddenly reminded of a passage in Peter Shaffer's Amadeus in which the Venticelli (Shaffer's equivalent of a Greek chorus) complain about Mozart's Marriage of Figaro. "All those weird harmonies", they snipe, "and never a good bang at the end...so you know when to clap". Had those fictional constructs been present that morning, they would have been pleased; if it has nothing else, the "Organ" symphony certainly has a good bang at the end, and the St. Louis Symphony and organ soloist John Romeri certainly delivered it.

Fortunately, the French master's third has more going for it than mere bombast. Written as a homage to Franz Liszt (who died shortly after work on the symphony had begun), the work includes prominent roles for piano and organ - the two instruments most closely associated with the late composer. Saint-Saëns also employs one of Liszt's favorite compositional techniques: the development of an elaborate musical structure from a single motif - in this case, a rising four-note phrase first played by the oboe in the short opening Adagio. Over the course of the ensuing half-hour, a majestic oak of a symphony grows from that little acorn. Like many of Saint-Saëns compositions, the Third Symphony ingeniously combines musical intelligence with popular appeal, and I like to think that the standing ovation it got on Friday was an acknowledgement both the work's head and heart.

It was also, of course, an acknowledgement of the Symphony's virtuoso performance. Under the baton of Jun Märkl, who moved the first movement's allegro moderato along at a sometimes hair-raising pace, the musicians performed as one finely-tuned instrument. The woodwinds and strings tossed off rapid passages with ease, sectional balance was always quite good and, yes, the finale had a certified rouser. Granted, the electronic organ didn't have the presence of The Real Thing, but music reproduction technology has come a long way in recent years. A subwoofer isn't the same as a 32' pipe but, to paraphrase The Bard, 'twas enough and did suffice.

Unlike Saint-Saëns and Liszt, Antonín Dvorák wasn't primarily a pianist. His first musical loves were the violin and viola, so it's not surprising that his works for strings - especially the quartets - are among his most profound and admired. That being the case, it was probably inevitable that his Op. 33 Piano Concerto, written at the request of the Czech pianist Karel Slavkovsky, would turn out to be the ugly stepsister among his solo works. Snubbed by critics and viewed with disappointment by the composer himself (“I see I am unable to write a Concerto for a virtuoso”), the concerto has languished over the years despite advocacy by noted pianists such as Rudolf Firkusny, who gave the work its local premiere in 1969, six years after his landmark recording.

Listening to Friday's performance with Garrick Ohlsson at the keyboard, I think I can see one reason for the neglect. Although technically challenging, the piano part isn't particularly flashy and doesn't stand out all that much from the orchestra. It's almost as though Dvorák had written a symphony with piano rather than a traditional late-19th-century concerto. Revisions to the piano part in the early 20th century by Czech pianist Vilém Kurz and, in the early 1960s, by Firkusny don't seem to have substantially altered the concerto's fortunes. Perhaps pianists see the game as not being worth the candle. In any case, Ohlsson and the SLSO made a very persuasive case for this rarity. He and Märkl appeared to take considerable delight in the performance, and the overall joy was infectious.

Maybe this is the sort of piece that just needs a great deal of TLC to be effective. If so, it certainly got all that and more. Audience response was so warm and sustained, in fact, that Ohlsson came back for an encore: Chopin's Waltz in E-Flat (Op. 18, No. 1), performed with the grace and wit that you would expect of a former Chopin International Piano Competition winner.

The concert opened with the evergreen Les Preludes by the man memorialized by “Organ” Symphony, Franz Liszt. Märkl and the SLSO musicians could probably do this chestnut in their sleep but there was nothing routine or slapdash about the performance. The winds did overpower the strings in the climaxes, but overall it was an effective reading with all the drama and punch you'd expect.

Friday's program will be repeated Saturday at 8 PM and Sunday at 3 PM [February 28 and March 1]; for ticket information call 314-534-1700. For lovers of the Romantic repertoire in general and Dvorák or Saint-Saëns in particular the concert is, of course, a “must see”. Besides, there's a really good bang at the end.

Next at Powell Hall: The Hubbard Street Dance company March 6th and 7th performing to music of Bach, Stravinsky, Ravel, Bernstein, Britten and Mozart. David Robertson will be at the podium. Visit the SLSO web site at slso.org for details.

At Ease

How comfortable is Tom Wopat on a cabaret stage? Comfortable enough pull out a guitar and start entertaining the audience fifteen minutes before his show was scheduled to start. Comfortable enough to sit down at a front table with some local cabaret artists to watch his brilliant sidemen - pianist and music director Andy Ezrin and local bassist Tom Kennedy - during one of the many instrumental breaks. Comfortable enough, in short, to make the Kranzberg Center's cabaret room feel almost like a living room.

Why do I bring that up? Because one of the first things a cabaret artist needs to do is make the audience comfortable. The more confident and at ease you are on that small stage, the easier it will be to take the folks you're performing for along on the musical journey you have planned. Mr. Wopat, to paraphrase Cole Porter, has got that thing, that certain thing, that makes us all want to watch him sing.

And a good thing, too, since Mr. Wopat made it clear he wasn't going to play it safe. Starting with a performance of Arlen and Harburg's "Last Night When We Were Young" that began a capella and off microphone and continuing through a program that included unusual takes on "That's Life" and "Over the Rainbow" and even a song of his own, "Thailand Sea", Mr. Wopat made what seemed to me to be a number of risky choices. The fact that they generally worked quite well is an indication of how accomplished he is in this genre. Even working under the handicap of a bout of hoarseness didn't prevent him from delivering a solid, entertaining show.

Mr. Wopat is a man of many voices. A veteran of Broadway and television, he had a parallel career as a country singer until 2000, when he turned his attention to recording American Songbook standards. The Tom Wopat on stage at the Kranzberg this week, however, was neither the Broadway baritone nor the country crooner. This Tom Wopat was a jazz vocalist, and a darned good one. Whether zipping through the lyrical whitewater of Annie Ross' "Twisted" (which puts words to a Wardell Grey sax solo from the 1950s) or giving full measure to a heart-on-the-sleeve Jimmy Webb number like "If These Walls Could Talk", he was on solid musical ground, hoarseness not withstanding.

There were, perhaps, moments when Mr. Wopat seemed more interested in ringing changes on the melody than in expressing the lyric, as in his swinging upbeat version of the Gershwin's "But Not For Me". But he didn't go that route any more often than other jazz-inflected cabaret acts I've seen and even when he did, it was still a pleasure to watch.

It was equally pleasurable watching the work of Andy Ezrin and Tom Kennedy - something I had plenty of opportunities to do, given how often Mr. Wopat stepped aside and let them mix it up. I have commented on Mr. Kennedy's virtuoso bass playing in the past, so all I need to say here is that, yes, he's still aces in my book. Mr. Ezrin was new to me. He's not only an exceptional solo performer but, as a friend brought to my attention afterwards, he also knows how to recede into the aural background when necessary. That's not as easy to do as you might think - even top-notch pianists can sometimes come close to overwhelming their singers. Kudos to Mr. Ezrin for doing it so well. I only wish I'd had another $20 in cash on hand Thursday night so I could have bought his CD as well as Mr. Wopat's.

The bottom line is that a splendid time was had by all. My only real regret is that I arrived too late to catch much of Mr. Wopat's pre-show set. If he ever makes it back to town again, I'll make a point of showing up earlier.

Tom Wopat played the Kranzberg Center February 11th through 14th under the Cabaret St. Louis banner. If you want to know where Mr. Wopat will be taking his many voices next, check out his web site, tomwopat.com . Next up in the Cabaret St. Louis season is a return engagement by the evergreen Marilyn Maye at the Savoy Room March 19th and 20th. For more information, visit cabaretstl.com . The next cabaret show at the Kranzberg is our own Jeff Wright in An Evening With Mr. Wright on February 20th, with a reprise on March 14th. For more information on that, go to licketytix.com .

Rustles of Spring

I emailed my friend Maud, inviting her to see the tour of the 2006 hit musical Spring Awakening, and included a plot synopsis. Her response - "It sounds just horrible and I'd love to see it" - pretty much mirrored my own thinking. Based on the controversial 1891 play Frühlings Erwachen by German dramatist Franz Wedekind, Spring Awakening deals with teenagers trying to understand their budding sexuality in a neurotically oppressive environment where the topic can't even be mentioned. "The original play", according to Wikipedia , "was banned in Germany due to its portrayal of masturbation, abortion, rape and suicide." It does sound horrible.

On stage, though, it's nothing short of wonderful. Duncan Shiek's rock score, while wildly anachronistic for the 1891 setting, radiates a hormone-drenched intensity that's absolutely right for his angry and confused teen protagonists. Besides, most of the songs serve to illuminate the characters' emotional states rather than advance the plot, so the sight of late-19th-century German schoolboys pulling out wireless microphones and launching into aggressive numbers like "The Bitch of Living" seems no more absurd than any other musical theatre contrivance.

And brother, does it ever work. Particularly in the high-energy first act, Spring Awakening has a grab-you-by-the-throat intensity that's impossible to resist. It loses a bit of that in the second act, when most of the plot's emotional axe-blows fall, but by then I was so taken by the show's originality and drive that it didn't matter. Steven Sater's book and lyrics, Michael Mayer's direction, Christine Jones' scenic design, Susan Hifferty's costumes and Kevin Adams' lighting and Bill T. Jones' choreography all combine harmoniously with the score to deliver maximum impact. Jones' work, in particular, brilliantly turns the kids' desperate attempts to escape the repression of their daily lives into violent, angular action.

The story centers on two friends - the brilliant and rebellious Melchior and the troubled Moritz. Tormented by the incomprehensible onset of puberty and rejected by his father for failing to advance at school, Moritz commits suicide. When a dissertation that the more enlightened Melchior had written for him on the facts of life is found among the boy's possessions, the hypocritical headmasters use it to blame Melchior for corrupting his friend and causing his death. Worse yet, Melchior's brief roll in the hayloft with the naïve Wendla - whose mother has let her believe that you can't have children until you're married - results in a pregnancy.

Melchior is shipped off to a brutal reformatory. He escapes, expecting to find Wendla and run away with her, only to discover that she has died from an illegal abortion arranged by her mother. On the brink of suicide himself, Melchior is visited by the ghosts of Moritz and Wendla, who urge him to go on with his life and remember theirs. "I'll never let them go", sings Melchior. "Just watch me. / I'm calling. / And one day all will know."

Yes, the story is of another century. But the themes of sexual repression, hypocrisy and cynical cruelty are, sadly, evergreen. As the Melchior sings in "All That's Known": "All they say / Is ‘Trust in What is Written.' / Wars are made, / And somehow that is wisdom. / Thought is suspect, / And money is their idol". The malady lingers on.

The ensemble cast for this tour is uniformly strong, led by Kyle Riabko and Blake Bashoff - both alumni of the Broadway production - as Melchior and Moritz. Singer/songwriter Christy Altomare beautifully captures Wendla's tragic vulnerability and Steffi D has a great cameo as the "fallen woman", Ilse.

As a way of dramatizing the uniformity of oppression, Sater's book has all of the authority figures - from clueless mothers to arrogant headmasters - played by the same two actors. In this production those roles are filled wonderfully by Angela Reed and Henry Stram. Praise is also due to Sarah Hunt as Martha, victimized by a sexually abusive father and a mother deeply in denial. Her song, "The Dark I Know So Well", is heart wrenching.

Under the sometimes overly demonstrative direction of Jared Stein the on-stage rock band, augmented by a small string section, is tight and precise. Better yet, the sound, while loud enough to give the necessary visceral kick to Sheik's music, gets nowhere near "bleeding ear" territory and the vocals are crisp, clear and completely understandable - something of a rarity for tours of rock musicals.

Ironically, this powerful and intelligent show about troubled teens comes with an adults-only "explicit content" warning. It's there largely because of the occasional sexually explicit scene and Anglo-Saxon expletive. So if that sort of thing offends you then, by all means, give this a miss. But if you want to find out just how great a rock musical can be, then by all means rush to get your tickets for Spring Awakening. It plays the Fox through February 22nd; call 314-534-1111 for ticket information.

Two for the Road

The choice of an opening number is always a crucial one for a cabaret act. Ideally, you want something that's an attention-grabber, that plays to your strengths as a performer, and that gives the audience some idea of what to expect from you. The song Liz Callaway and Alex Rybeck chose to open their two-night Cabaret St. Louis gig at the Sheldon this Thursday [February 5th, 2009] - Bernstein's "Something's Coming" from West Side Story - did all that and more.

Although only a few minutes long, the performance encompassed everything we'd see and hear for the next two hours: Ms. Callaway's vocal virtuosity and music theatre smarts, Mr. Rybeck's endlessly inventive arrangements and polished pianism, and the easy give-and-take between these two consummate cabaret pros.

It don't get much better than that.

For those of us lucky enough to have seen Ms. Callaway and/or Mr. Rybeck in action before, of course, none of this will come as a surprise. For everyone else it was, presumably, a joyous discovery.

Witness, for example, the spontaneous standing ovation following their penultimate song - Andrew Lloyd Webber's "Memory", which Ms. Callaway performed for several years on Broadway. Yes, a more cynical reviewer than yours truly might dismiss that as a kind of Pavlovian response to a classic "eleven o'clock number". But that wouldn't explain repetition of that "standing o" after the closer - the more reflective "The Story Goes On" from Maltby and Shire's 1983 Baby, which she also did on Broadway. Standing ovations are sometimes cheaply bought here, but this was simply recognition of a job well done.

No, Liz Callaway is not her more famous sibling Ann Hampton Callaway - a fact she mines for comic gold in a send-up of "I've Gotta Be Me". She is her own unique and equally talented self, as she demonstrated in an evening rich with mostly familiar songs from Broadway and Hollywood delivered with a winning combination of skill and sincerity. There was also a delightful brace of hits from the 1960s (from her recent The Beat Goes On CD) that made up the bulk of what has become the obligatory second act at the Savoy Room. It's a tribute to Ms. Callaway and Mr. Rybeck's abilities that a long intermission cannot wither them nor bar prices stale their infinite variety.

I keep referring to Ms. Callaway and Mr. Rybeck together because they are clearly equal partners in the act. For some cabaret artists, the guy at the piano is there to support the star. He might have done the arrangements and might get a couple of solo breaks, but there's never any doubt about who's in charge. As I have observed in the past, however, Mr. Rybeck is very strong performer in his own right - a fact Ms. Callaway obviously appreciates and of which she makes good use. He's a solid backup vocalist, for example, in "Half as Big as Life" (from Burt Bacharach and Hal David's only Broadway musical, Promises, Promises) and a medley of "The Beat Goes On" and "The 59th Street Bridge Song (Feelin' Groovy)", and occasional comic foil at other times. Throughout the evening, his smart, "on the scene" arrangements kept everything flowing smoothly; before we knew it 10 PM had arrived and we were applauding.

I see that I have spent so much bandwidth praising the performers that I haven't said much about the program itself. Without going into laborious detail, I'll just note that there were over two dozen very well-chosen numbers ranging from the tried and true ("People", "Leavin' on a Jet Plane", and an ingenious Gershwin medley) to the semi-obscure ("What More Do I Need", from Saturday Night, an early Sondheim show that closed before it could open). There were lovely ballads such as Stephen Schwartz's "Meadowlark" and Loesser's "My Heart is So Full of You", up-tempo numbers like the aforementioned Gershwin medley, and some wonderful comic songs, including a parody of Sondheim's "Another Hundred People" that gets plenty of laughs out of the difficulty of singing some of The Great Man's trickier compositions (e.g., "Another hundred lyrics just flew out of my brain"). Ms. Callaway even included a nod to her career in animated musicals with Flaherty and Ahrens' "Journey to the Past" from Anastasia (1997) - a film that looks and sounds so much like a stage musical I'm surprised someone hasn't done the adaptation already.

It was, in short, a great evening at the cabaret. Even the usually mediocre sound at the Savoy Room seemed clearer and the smaller number of tables, while unfortunate from a financial point of view, made for better sight lines. To paraphrase Mr. Sondheim, what more did we need?

By the time you read this, of course, Liz Callaway and Alex Rybeck will already have moved on to their next gigs. You can find out what Ms. Callaway is up to at her web site, lizcallaway.com . Mr. Rybeck, alas, does not have a web site, but if you're a Facebook person you'll find him there.

Next in the Cabaret St. Louis season: Broadway baritone Tom Wopat with Andy Ezrin on the ivories at the Kranzberg Center February 11th through 14th. For more information, call 314-523-1111 or check out their site at cabaretstl.org .

French Dressing

In the final moments of Cyrano de Bergerac Rostand's hero, dying in the arms of Roxanne, shuffles off his mortal coil with characteristic style:

CYRANO
You strip from me the laurel and the rose! Take all! Despite you there is yet one thing I hold against you all, and when, to-night, I enter Christ's fair courts, and, lowly bowed, Sweep with doffed casque the heavens' threshold blue, One thing is left, that, void of stain or smutch, I bear away despite you.

ROXANE
'Tis?. . .

CYRANO
My panache.

As part of the research he and his assistant Marna Petersen did for Chevalier - Maurice and Me, veteran entertainer Tony Sandler discovered that the legendary French star made his exit from life in somewhat the same way as Cyrano. Not wanting his many friends and admirers to witness his final decline, he insisted on dying alone, in his home, at the age of 83. The man who once said that he'd always leave the table before he wound up under it preserved, to the end, his panache.

I bring all this up because the performance of Chevalier - Maurice and Me that I saw this past Thursday [November 13, 2008] at the Sheldon's Savoy Ballroom was, regrettably, somewhat lacking in the nearly indefinable mix of flamboyance, confidence and style that's implied by the word and which characterized the career of France's most popular musical ambassador.

That's not to say that the show wasn't, on the whole, entertaining and informative. It's just that there were too many moments when Mr. Sandler was clearly struggling for his next line and losing his concentration. The occasional slip of this sort is inevitable; show me a performer who says “I've never 'gone up' on stage” and I'll show you a bald-faced liar. But when they're a regular occurrence an unavoidable barrier begins to rise between the actor and the audience.

To be fair, it must be said that Mr. Sandler clearly loves both Chevalier and the songs he made famous, and the script Ms. Petersen has assembled for him provides some fascinating insights into the man and his life. The many jokes woven into the story are generally quite funny, even if some of them were probably old when the teenaged Chevalier was an unpaid café singer in 1901, and Mr. Sandler's joy in performing classics such as “Louise”, “Valentine” and “You Brought a New Kind of Love to Me” (which inspired one of the Marx Brothers' more inspired flights of lunacy in Monkey Business) was infectious. It was also delightful to hear some of Chevalier's less-well-known French language hits, even if the lyrics were incomprehensible to non-francophones like yours truly.

The opening night audience obviously agreed. Even those who apparently shared my reservations clearly loved him, and most of them gave him a standing ovation.

Originally performed in 1999, Chevalier - Maurice and Me is an unusual hybrid of celebrity tribute and impersonation, with Mr. Sandler dropping out of the role of Chevalier as needed to relate the story of the entertainer's life and his influence on Mr. Sandler. His realization of Chevalier - it's too uncanny to be dismissed as mere impersonation, my earlier use of the word not withstanding - is often quite remarkable. When, towards the end of the 90-minute, one-act show, he dons a frock coat, grey cloves and matching hat for a re-creation of “Thank Heaven for Little Girls” from the closing frames of Gigi, I felt that I was watching something akin to reincarnation. Unlike Chevalier, however, Mr. Sandler was never a song-and-dance man, so he's less successful in recreating the fluid grace that marked Chevalier's persona.

Mr. Sandler was backed by a small combo headed by his pianist and music director Evan Mazunik and consisting of local musicians Eric Stiller on bass, Joe Pastor on percussion and Isaac Liftis on the essential accordion. Mr. Mazunik's ability to keep everyone on the same page (literally, in a few cases) was really quite impressive, as was his pianism. Mr. Sandler is lucky to have such a sympathetic accompanist, which makes it a pity that he didn't acknowledge him or the other musicians at the end of the show.

The bottom line is that when he was fully “in the moment” Mr. Sandler was the very ideal of Gallic flair, elegance and joie de vivre. Had there been more of them, Chevalier - Maurice and Me would have been more than a pleasant evening's diversion. It would have had (and, for all I know, often may have) panache.

Next on Cabaret St. Louis' schedule is singer/songwriter Spencer Day on Sunday, November 30th, 2008. For more information visit the Cabaret St. Louis web page at cabaretstl.org. To find out which of Mr. Sandler's five shows he's doing next, visit his site, tonysandler.com.

The Soul of Wit

If you weren't already familiar with the work of cabaret legend Steve Ross you might expect his show To Wit: Ross on Wry - Funny Songs Throughout The Ages to be somewhat lacking in variety. After all, how much range can there really be in the “novelty song” subgenre?

The answer, as the audience at the Kranzberg Center discovered this past week (October 1st through 4th), is “quite a lot, actually” - especially when someone with Ross' impeccable taste and graceful style is at the helm.

Over the course of around 90 minutes, Mr. Ross showed just how wide a range of material is encompassed by the phrase “funny songs.” The evening included two dozen numbers that ranged from British music hall classics such as “Don't Go in the Lion's Cage Tonight” (a hit originally for Beatrice Kay and later for Julie Andrews) to a medley of Flanders and Swan gems to Portia Nelson's “Confessions of a New Yorker” (in which she admits to being “in hate/love” with the town). Coward and Porter were well represented, as you might expect, but so were lesser-known songwriters such as Murray Grand (“The Spider and the Fly”) and the team of Hugh Martin and Timothy Gray (“Home Sweet Heaven”, a name-dropping extravaganza first sung by Tammy Grimes in the 1964 musical High Spirits).

Mr. Ross even treated us to a comic monologue, “Prinderella and the Cince”, which seems to have undergone some metamorphoses and elaborations since comic Frederick Chase Taylor (a.k.a Colonel Stoopnagle) first published this classic collection of Spoonerisms in 1946. The original can still be found on line at stoopnagle.tripod.com/prinder.htm, among other places. One look will explain why Mr. Ross was obliged, atypically, to work from a script for this item.

As is so often the case with Mr. Ross' work, it's difficult to anoint any particular collection of songs with the title “highlights”. Personally, I was the most delighted by the half dozen pieces I'd never heard before, such as “The Unrequited Love March” (in which typically languishing lyrics are coupled with a rousing Sousa-esqe melody), Dorothy Shay's twisted “Say That We're Sweethearts Again” (“I never knew that our romance had ended / Until you poisoned my food”) and Brown and Henderson's “Ladies and Gentlemen, That's Love”, which was written as a satirical response to Porter's “What Is This Thing Called Love?” (“When a hippopotamus / Does what no one dare discuss / Ladies and gentlemen, that's love”).

I'd be less than honest, however, if I didn't cop to being equally happy to hear favorites like Ivor Novello's “And Her Mother Came Too” and Coward's caustic “Mrs. Worthington”. And what a pleasure it was to reacquaint myself Rogers and Hart's “At the Roxy Music Hall” - a song I haven't heard since I performed it myself an undisclosed number of decades ago in a revue for the now deceased City Players.

The more discerning among you have probably noticed by now that I've not had much to say about Mr. Ross' actual performance. That's due, in part, to the ease and grace which characterize his work. He makes himself transparent, so to speak, to the music, creating the illusion that the songwriter is communicating with us directly.

It's also due to my inability to come up with novel ways of stating the obvious: the Mr. Ross remains one of cabaret's leading lights. Indeed, simply to say that he is Steve Ross is probably praise enough.

Mr. Ross' show was the first one I've seen at the new Kranzberg Center's cabaret space, and I must say the room itself looks and sounds good. The stage is raised just high enough to give everyone a good view of the artist but not so much that it distances the performer from the audience - as the stage in the Sheldon's more cavernous Savoy Room does. The amplified sound is clear and undistorted and the lighting grid looks substantial enough to meet the needs of any cabaret act I've ever seen. With the unexpected demise of the Flim Flam Room at Savor this past summer, the Kranzberg would appear to be the new first choice for cabaret.

Next at the Kranzberg: Lee Lessack with a Johnny Mercer tribute October 29th through November 1st. Between now and then Cabaret St. Louis, the new organization that sponsored Mr. Ross' appearance, will bring us classical soprano Sylvia McNair with a Great American Songbook program October 16th and 17th at the Sheldon and local cultural icon Fran Landesman with an evening of songs and stories October 22nd through 25th at the Gaslight Theatre on North Boyle. For information on these and other upcoming Cabaret St. Louis attractions, visit their web site at cabaretstl.org.

Lemon Law

One of my dear old mum's favorite phrases is “when life hands you a lemon, make lemonade”.

Yes, it's a cliché, but like a lot of clichés it also contains more than a grain of truth. Turning a sow's ear into a silk purse (there's another one...) is one of humanity's oldest pursuits. Entire industries (public relations and advertising) are based on it. Politicians do it so automatically that they no longer even think of it as lying. It's just “spin”.

I bring all this up because today a local theater company sent out a press release that is, in my opinion, one of the best examples of turning lemons into a tasty summertime beverage that I have ever seen.

The company, The Tin Ceiling, is presenting Sam Shephard's drama True West with a new twist: there's no director. Whether this was done as an experiment or out of necessity is perhaps a moot point. What's really rather clever is the way they handled the fact that, of the three reviews they got, two were positively negative. Here's the full press release:

The Tin Ceiling Theater (The oldest and smallest theater on the South Side) presents for your viewing pleasure, a conundrum, an enigma, a question wrapped in the quizzical look from the guy peeing on the dumpster next to your garage as you pull in.

For the next two weekends, Friday-Sunday, at 8pm, the Tin Ceiling will continue to ask the age old question, "do you really need a director for every play?" The play that will decide this question once and for all for all eternity is our production of Sam Shepard's True West.

We have divided the world into two sides, the Green and the Brown.

The "No, you don't need a director" side is summed up by the opinion of Richard Green. Here's the link to his Talkin' Broadway review: http://www.talkinbroadway.com/regional/stl

This contingent includes the cast and crew, the Funboys (Bob and Ken), the Byrd family, my parents (who haven't seen it yet but they'd agree with me) and William Shakespeare.

The "Yes, for the love of god, yes, you need a director" side we have Dennis Brown's review. Here's a link to his RFT capsule: http://www.riverfronttimes.com/2008-07-16/culture/stage-capsules/

This side is made up of the nice reviewer for KDHX (her review can be viewed here), Meghan (who hasn't seen the show), anyone at Saturday's performance and Elia Kazan.

So come on down to the Tin Ceiling at 3159 Cherokee and shill out $10 to see the show, and weigh in on this most important of issues.

Feel free to post your opinion on our Myspace page. Don't ask me how you would do that, or even if you can do that. All this Web 2.0 stuff gives me a headache. What was the matter with BBSing? Anyway, here's the link to our Myspace page: http://www.myspace.com/thetinceiling.

Is this shrewd or what?

That said, I have to say that I've been in my share of shows in which, while there was a director of record, there was, in fact, no direction at all. One or two of them managed to be decent shows because the cast, out of sheer desperation, took turns directing each other, but generally speaking I think a show without direction is going to be a show with no direction.

I agree with Ron Himes' notion of the division of responsibility. The playwright's job is to produce a good script. The director's job is to realize the playwright's vision on stage. The actor's job is to create a character based on the director's interpretation of the playwright's vision. If anybody falls down on his or her job, the end result will suffer.

But what the heck - it's summer. Anybody for a nice lemonade?

All That Jazz

Over at encore.org - a site dedicated to those of us contemplating the “second act” of our lives - my motto is “when you stop learning you stop living”. As a demonstration that (unlike a lot of politicians and media gasbags) I actually practice what I preach, I did something for the very first time today at age 59 that is usually done at a far younger age.

I bought my first pair of jazz shoes.

This wasn't done on a whim, but rather in anticipation of the fact that this Saturday I'll be doing something else for the first time: attending a class on Fosse technique at Leaping Lizards, a local dance studio. “Come dressed in comfortable, loose-fitting clothing”, said the invitation. “Jazz shoes are ideal.”

That class isn't the result of a whim either. It's a result of being cast as King Charles (a.k.a. Charlemagne) in Stray Dog Theatre's production of the Stephen Schwartz musical Pippin. The late Bob Fosse's choreographed the 1972 Broadway original and since then everybody has pretty much followed his lead when it comes to the many dance numbers that help give the show it's unique character. Stray Dog decided to give everyone in the cast - including non-dancers like yours truly - the opportunity to learn some of the key moves.

It's good, as Mel Brooks noted, to be the King - particularly since King Charles isn't expected to do any fancy footwork. I am expected to join the rest of the ensemble in a couple of numbers, however, so my jazz shoes and I will be at the class this Saturday and next.

This isn't quite as crazy as it might sound since I've been taking aerobics classes for nearly thirty years now. Still, it's something new. Hopefully I won't embarrass myself too much or strain something trying.

Just call me a dancin' fool.

Unsavory

Deb Peterson broke the story in the Post-Dispatch earlier today and Chris Gibson, who went to review Elsie Parker tonight for KDHX-FM (where I'm the senior performing arts critic), confirmed it: Savor is closing its doors after the Debby Lennon/Carolbeth True show on June 28th.

Chris said Jim Dolan - the producer of the Cabaret at Savor series and the master of ceremonies for every performance - wasn't there tonight and the woman who was doing the seating apparently had no idea that he was there to review the show. It's not clear whether she was an employee of Savor or Jim's organization.

This is pretty awful news for the cabaret scene locally. Savor was the best all-around cabaret room in town. I went to the press preview for the Kranzberg Center Wednesday (the 21st) and while their cabaret space is promising, the seating will need to be planned properly if it's going to work at all. I have no idea whether they're going to do that or not.

Jim was apparently caught flat-footed by this. His web site is still advertising shows through August 23rd. It looks like Savor made the decision very abruptly.

UPDATE, June 28th: According to an anonymous posting on Ian Froeb's Gut Check restaurant blog, "the owner only knew 5 days before the doors closed for good" and the business "owed over 50 grand to the state in taxes ". How things could get to the point where that would come as a surprise is a question not yet addressed.

Troy Weight

William Walton's 1954 opera Troilus and Cressida has had a history almost as unfortunate as that of its protagonists. From the lackluster Covent Garden premiere, sloppily conducted by an ill-prepared and hostile Malcolm Sargent, through repeated revivals and revisions, this tale of star-crossed lovers in the final years of the Trojan War has acquired a reputation as something of operatic problem child. It wasn't until the 1976 revival - once again at Covent Garden and once again beset by production problems - that the composer, now Sir William Walton, finally received the critical praise he had long deserved for this dark, emotionally charged work.

Revision of the opera continued even after the composer's death, and so it is that Opera Theatre of St. Louis is presenting the world premiere of the latest and (presumably) last version of Troilus and Cressida. The road to St. Louis has been long and winding, but judging from the generally splendid results on view at the Loretto-Hilton Center this past Wednesday night, the journey was well worth it.

The libretto, by actor, lyricist and playwright Christopher Hassall, is based largely on Chaucer's poem Troilus and Criseyde rather than on the somewhat more familiar Shakespearean tragedy. Unlike the many previous versions of the story, in which priestess of Pallas Athena is held up as an example of female inconstancy (a favorite theme of male writers), the Hassall/Walton collaboration clearly depicts Cressida as far more sinned against than sinning - a largely powerless victim of male arrogance and foolishness. Like the pawns in the metaphorically significant chess game which she plays in the second act, Cressida is shuffled about by powers far larger than herself.

In both the original and newest versions of opera, the role of Cressida calls for a dramatic soprano with a wide range and powerful voice. Ellie Dehn, making her OTSL debut, has all that and more. Statuesque and displaying an impressive stage presence, Dehn is as fine an actress as she is a singer - and she's a damned impressive singer. Her second act love scene with Troilus - underscored by Walton's sensuous music - is one of the steamier things I've seen on the Opera Theatre stage in many a year.

Tenor Roger Honeywell is equally strong as the Trojan prince Troilus, utterly believable both as yearning lover and valiant warrior. For this piece to work at all there has to be credible chemistry between the title characters. Mr. Honeywell and Ms. Dehn provide that in quantities sufficient to get over some of the speed bumps in the libretto's first act.

Some of the most remarkable singing comes from tenor Robert Breault as Cressida's fey uncle Pandarus, whose attempts to unite the lovers are undone by royal politics. The role was written for and first performed by Peter Pears and it's hard not to hear echoes of the great British tenor's wide-ranging, flexible voice (to say nothing of the music of his partner, Benjamin Britten) in the role's florid vocal lines. Breault - a late substitution for Stanford Olsen, who was sidelined by a torn tendon - negotiates the many difficult passages with ease and is a solid comic actor.

The principal villains of the piece - Cressida's treasonous father Calkas and the arrogant Greek prince Diomede - are played with considerable gravitas by bass-baritones Darren K. Stokes and Mark S. Doss. Both characters are written with just enough depth to raise them above the level of stock villainy, thereby making them all the more repellent. Doss, in particular, does an excellent job of brining out Diomede's smug self-admiration.

Other fine performances include mezzo Elizabeth Batton as Cressida's duplicitous servant Evadne and baritone Aleksy Bogdanov as Troilus' friend Antenor.

Conductor Antony Walker leads the orchestra with great relish, clearly enjoying every minute of Walton's lush, intelligent score. Sandra Horst's chorus appears in only a handful of scenes, but makes a powerful impression when it does so - particularly in the massive ensemble towards the end of the second act.

Director Stephen Lawless and set designer Gideon Davey have given us a Troy that's a gray, claustrophobic mix of classical and modern design elements, contrasting with a starkly bright Greek camp lit by harsh golden light. I'm not convinced that it all works as a concept, especially in the final act when the treacherous Calkas kills Troilus not by stabbing him in the back as called for in the libretto but by having him shot by a sentry. Up to that point, everyone has been brandishing knives and swords, so the sudden introduction of a modern weapon seems bizarre.

Cressida's death scene is also given a curiously anti-climactic staging. Rather than stabbing herself with Troilus' sword, director Lawless has Ms. Dehn wind the crimson scarf that has served as a token of her love for Troilus around her neck and then pull aside a trap door to reveal a dummy hanging from an identical scarf. The actress then runs offstage, leaving the audience briefly wondering what, exactly, has just happened.

These are minor complaints, however, about an otherwise brilliantly realized production of a rarely-seen opera rich in drama and offering an embarrassment of musical riches. It's a work that resonates, to a degree, with the contemporary political scene as well, given its gimlet-eyed, anti-heroic view of war and the way in which a prolonged siege of a weaker nation by a stronger one has a corrupting influence on both. Sometimes there are truths that only fiction can adequately reveal to us.

Opera Theatre's compelling production of Troilus and Cressida runs through June 29th. Of the three OTSL productions I've seen this year (my own performance commitments prevented me from seeing Madame Butterfly) this was clearly the most consistent musical and dramatic success. It's a "must see" for anyone who enjoys intelligent musical theatre. It's also a fitting tribute to Opera Theatre's late Artistic Director, Colin Graham, who was a long-time champion of the work and friend of the composer. For ticket information, call 314-961-0644 or visit the web site, opera-stl.org .