Court Theatre
is a theater dedicated to the classics. "My Fair Lady" is without doubt a classic of musical theater. Why, then, did the theater feel it necessary to send out promotional materials excusing its decision to produce the piece? ("Court has never accepted a singular definition of 'classic theatre,' instead embracing a belief that classic theatre is defined by timeless themes and universal truths....With this fresh and broadminded perspective, we have come to believe that the development of the musical theatre genre in the 20th century may be America's greatest contribution to the classic theatre canon." Now there's an original thought!) Why does the theater claim to be "Deconstructing My Fair Lady" and predict success based on the fact that "Court's highly intellectual audience . . . . know[s] Pygmalion, and will readily accept what we're trying to do"? Why is the Lady protesting so much?There's a simple answer to these questions: Emeritus Artistic Director Nicholas Rudall. Rudall willed Court Theatre into existence from a community-based summer Shakespeare in a campus courtyard (hence the name), and he hates musicals. His essay on the subject in Chicago Magazine ended with the savage question, "But what else can the simple folk do?" Worse: he seems to despise this musical in particular, once introducing a reading of Pygmalion with the utterly gratuitous observation that it was "a lot more than My Fair Lady."
That this production doesn't collapse under the weight of Rudall's baggage about musicals and Court's baggage about Rudall is a tribute to Director Gary Griffin, an experienced (and unapologetic) director of musicals including last spring's extraordinary chamber version of "Pacific Overtures". With Musical Director Tom Murray, he has stripped down "My Fair Lady" in much the same way, and between them they manage to make nine voices and two pianos do the work of creating the rich tapestry Lerner and Loewe (in conjunction with orchestrators Robert Russell Bennett and Phil Lang) wove for full orchestra and chorus. But it's like Scott's safe return from Antarctica: an accomplishment, sure, by why go in the first place? "My Fair Lady" isn't an intimate show buried in over-large trappings but a musical whose size is part of its point. If the audience doesn't see over-rich, over-ripe, over-crowded Victorian London, with each of its people assigned to one little slot in the social pecking order, how can it see what stands in the way of the love between Eliza and Henry Higgins?
The obstacles placed in the way of this production are doubly or trebly regrettable considering the outstanding cast Griffin assembled; even in these awkward circumstances, they manage to do memorable work. Kate Fry makes Eliza's growth from mannequin to self-aware woman even more fascinating than her transformation from guttersnipe to mannequin, despite a second-act book giving her virtually nothing to say except "What's to become of me?" (This failing is less apparent when the play is done as a musical, as intended.) The protean Kevin Gudahl seems to be an inexhaustible resource, whether playing Shakespeare or carving out his own distinctive Higgins; someone should look into getting him landmark status. The supporting players are uniformly capable: as the housekeeper Mrs. Pierce, Ora Jones can turn a single gesture into a world of disapproval, while gawky, sweet Ned Noyes was born for the role of gawky, sweet Freddie Eynsford-Hill. Bradley Mott makes a fine Alfred Doolittle -- a fine one who could have been a great one if not required to deliver comic lines with a sigh and sing the last verse of "I'm Getting Married in the Morning" as a dirge. But that problem dogs the entire production. "Wouldn't it be Loverly?" is likewise turned from a sprightly patter into a wistful ballad in the service of intimacy and emphasis on Eliza's feelings.
It's a musical! More than that: it's a musical comedy! That doesn't require apology, or deconstruction, or reinvention. If you don't like (or comprehend) musicals, don't do them. If you do them, value them on their own terms. That simple, ineffable, but essential component -- respect for the material -- is what keeps this Lady only fair.