It doesn’t happen often, believe me, but sometimes I think we judge things a tad too harshly in New York City. Now, most of the time, yes, true, I hold the barre up as high as anyone, and if your intention is to play in the sandbox with The Cool Kids, I require you to reach up…
But sometimes a thing comes along and it’s something else, it’s about something other than being a craft model, or even being great of its type, it’s just a sort of quirky-ass event, and you have to take it on its own terms, even in its own time, by which I mean the calendar time of its appearance…and "The Frogs" is one of those.
The original Aristophanes play, from 405 B.C., tells of the god Dionysos and his slave Xanthius venturing to Hades to retrieve a great playwright who can save the theatre. It’s barely plotted at all, a few situations strung together by interludes for social commentary. (The Frogs of the title are indeed the most minor part of it; they are the primary obstacle of the journey across the river Styx, a kind of "mass mind" of conservative complacency that threatens to absorb visitors.) At the climax, the god chooses the winner in a debate between Aeschylus and Euripides.
In 1972, Burt Shevelove re-examined his own 1941 adaptation which was famously reconceived for the Yale swimming pool (under the direction of Robert Brustein); he asked Stephen Sondheim to write a number of songs, and created a canny update: "The time: The present. The place: Ancient Greece"–which allowed him to reference the modern world while retaining the exotic, bygone ambience and classical intention. The debate became one between Shaw and Shakespeare.
Now in 2004, Nathan Lane has expanded and extended Shevelove’s take, in which he plays Dionysos. The journey to Hades with Xanthius (Roger Bart) is now about saving the world, not just the theatre, through art. What was originally a long one-act novelty is now a full-blown two act evening, in which the stops along the path are given fuller musicalization–again, of course, by Mr. Sondheim–so that, in addition to the songs we know (don’t we?) from the 2001 CD–very few of which are for characters in solo or close-up, most for chorus/ritual/group/commentary moments–we now how songs that particularize individual character. Among those characters particularized are Dionysos’ warrior half-brother, butch and baritone Herakles (Burke Moses); the ancient, wise-cracking Hades boatman Charon (John Byner); and the head honcho of Hades, a very fey and fun-loving Pluto (Peter Bartlett). Dionysos’ late wife, his beloved Ariadne (Kathy Voytko) is a new character to the proceedings, with no song of her own (though, to be sure, a song Dionysos sings about her); and Shaw (Daniel Davis), now, as before, is all talk. Shakespeare (Michael Siberry) of course concludes the debate in his own words set to Sondheim’s music ("Weep No More").
As a musical, per se, "The Frogs" isn’t much of one. It exists in a strange netherworld (much like the setting of the play itself) that is not quite musical, not quite play with music, not quite special material. Yet it has an identity borne of its purpose–which is agit-prop provocation. Though delivered with sometimes gentle/sometime pointed (though never savage) humor, it’s really a rallying cry to urge its audience not to be complacent in a time of great change: to make morality and decency heard, in their votes, in their words, in their convictions.
And that’s what makes "The Frogs" an event.
It’s a spectacularly timed political statement. Because the development of such a piece is so lengthy and so specific, you can’t altogether make such timing a conscious choice (talk about the whim of the theatre gods), but the confluence of current events and theatrical purpose have conspired to make "The Frogs" nearly as immediate (if not nearly so specific) as the eleven o’clock news.
And, warts and all (pun probably intended), it’s just fun to be there, because of that, in the presence of those artists, or their work–helmed by director/choreographer Susan Stroman–in a place like Lincoln Center.
It’s far funnier than the major reviews would lead you to believe (as funny as "The Producers", no, but what is?). The performances by each of the leads are exuberantly delivered: Mr. Lane, of course, brings his signature wackiness to the party, Roger Bart is similarly, uniquely, irrepressible; the Broadway debut of the virtuoso, veteran standup comedian John Byner as Charon gives a virtual primer on the inseparability of a great comic character played greatly and great comedy timing; Burke Moses is the iconic matinee-idol god; and Peter Bartlett just puts the good times in hell.
There is beauty, wit and surprise in the score, and the direction keeps most of the show moving apace in a gratifyingly simple way. There are theatrical devices aplenty, but none terribly showy or technical; things and people are raised, lowered, wheeled on and off and it’s good enough.
All right, that said, what about those warts?
Well, give Nathan Lane credit for his expansion. It’s very much in the spirit of both Aristophanes and Shevelove, and very little of it seems like (lily) padding. Overall pacing is uneven; the debate between Shaw and Shakespeare remains problematic even highly revised (despite the enormous skill of Davis and Siberry, who do all that can be done); and he raises an issue that he never quite pays off (if a mortal stays in hell for more than 24 hours, "all hell breaks loose") and ties up both indirectly and insufficiently.
It’s hard to appraise Sondheim’s new songs comprehensively upon first hearing. He’s in his "take no prisoners" mode, in which the listener’s ear either acclimates to the speed and variety of musical/lyrical ideas or doesn’t. Several full–and extremely entertaining–songs leave you with the impression of a brilliant essence, but one that hasn’t lingered long enough to be savored, or hasn’t sat in its groove long enough for you to groove with it (e.g. the sprightly "I Love to Travel" never quite cooks at the implied full boil; and Herakles’ "Dress Big" is [or sounds] too tricky of time signature for the music to fully blaze with the fire of the title idea); for an evening this frothy, the ear wants to work a little less hard. (Yet one suspects, lurking in the background, what Sondheim devotees often refer to as "the breakthrough point" in which subsequent hearings unlock a compositional "code" to the piece as a whole. When the score fails to ignite, it isn’t because it falls short of its intention, but rather because it teases with the promise of something bigger–undelivered or perhaps just unperceived–grown from its motivic seeds.)
As for Ms. Stroman’s direction. Fine, clean, professional, unspectacular. Likewise the choreography. Though, at the appearance of the day-glo frogs and their bungee-jumping leaps–which seemed less insidious than arbitrarily antic–I must confess, I heard the voices of the "South Park" kids in my head going, "This is so gay."
And Michael Siberry is just not very comfortable singing what is positioned as the evening’s climactic song. "Weep No More" is beautiful but not close to performer-proof, and unless you have the stillness and musicality of George Hearn (who sings it on the A Stephen Sondheim Evening album) or Davis Gaines (who sings it on the Elektra/Nonesuch The Frogs/Evening Primrose album) it simply cannot have the dramatic or poetic impact the script says it must to justify the play’s outcome.
Under normal circumstances, serious warts indeed.
And yet…here, now, this show, this production, this time…the warts don’t matter.
Anyway, they didn’t to me.
I just felt there was a larger, more interesting thing going on than merely the show itself; that it created a gestalt that informed and elevated and energized the occasion–and that I was damned lucky to be there.
"The Frogs", the 2004 version at Lincoln Center, is a by-product of 9/11, the government’s response to it, and the country’s response to the government. It wants to be an active part in how we proceed from here. It doesn’t mind so much if you check your brain at the door; so long as you don’t leave your heart and your conscience with it. That is specifically why it exists.
Maybe it’s just me. But I find that terribly moving…