Objectively
assessing the adaptation of a beloved classic is difficult to begin with, as is
adapting a beloved classic. Fairly judging a musical set in the same historical
period and set against the same historical events as a previous musical
adaptation of another beloved classic, without comparing or even mentioning
that other adaptation, is yet more of a struggle. Granted that it would be
difficult to stage French revolutionaries in their musical call to arms without
recalling Les Miz;
and granted one musical about the French revolution has as much right as
another to stage such a scene. It would be nice if those who had the misfortune
to come second took it as a challenge to avoid recalling the first's now iconic
scene. But, considering the vast committee of producers listed for the new
adaptation of Dickens' A Tale of Two Cities, one can imagine that there may
have been pressure to purposefully call into the minds of its audience a
financially successful predecessor, rather than depart from it. The stories of
the two novels are not the same, the characters differ in tone as well as
detail. So let's move beyond comparisons to any other musical that may be based
on a fictional work set on the background of a revolution.
Then
there is the issue of adapting from one medium to another. The narrative voice
has to be left behind, in this case that of Charles Dickens. The story can
travel, though of course the literary version has the luxury of time and space
for greater depth and complexity. This production of "A Tale of Two
Cities" now at the Al Hirschfeld Theater, after a staging at the Asolo
Theater in Florida, does a commendable job of streamlining the story for the
stage, without, however, eliminating the need for some unfortunate exchanges of
blatant exposition masquerading as lyrics. Characters can also travel from the
novel to the stage, and Dickens' characters are often written in such broad
strokes that they seem to be perfect fodder for a musical. But without Dickens'
narration fleshing out the broad strokes, it is up to the actors and director
to give them humanity. Under choreographer Warren Carlyle's direction, many of the
performances here seem to be playing the outline only, and it is not until the
second act of the production that the strength of the story itself truly draws
us in.
The
element of a musical that cannot be lifted directly from its literary source
is, of course, the score. Despite the theater-world prejudice against the epic
musical form (a condescension betrayed in the defining term of "pop
opera"), some of us believe it is possible that one can successfully bring
"big" stories to an audience with intelligence and feeling and art,
and may even have tried. Composer-lyricist Jill Santoriello, who also wrote the book, shows
intelligence in her lyrics and shapes musical phrases in such a way as to allow
the truly glorious voices in this cast to impressively display their range and
quality. But the intelligence and beautiful sounds of the parts rarely make an artful
whole. Open to breaking extrinsic rules in writing, I'd rather not question the
decision to take neither the "sung-through" approach nor that of the
traditional song-and-book. But there seems to be little rationale, or at least
a consistent one, for the choice of which lines should be spoken, which should
be sung in that limbo of recitative, and which ideas should be shaped into
songs that are more than individual phrases strung together. There is enough
musical shaping in some of the songs to give the performers an athletic climb
to climactic applause, but these musical moments seem to be fashioned with the
same broad strokes as the performances, without enough inspiration to make one
song, or song fragment, distinct from another or particularly memorable on its
own.
No
question the singing is memorable, particularly that of Brandi Burkhardt as Lucie Manette and James
Barbour as
Sydney Carton. Ms Burkhardt is both the visual and musical embodiment of
Dickens' stock blonde heroines: purity and perfection. She also does her best
to make her human as well as beautiful. Mr. Barbour has the fortune to play a
character that is far more interesting, and much more fun, even though the
dissolute antihero with a heart of gold has by now become a bit of a stage clich(.
Nevertheless, he has all the necessary equipment to carry it off, and his voice
has richness, power, warmth, and beauty throughout its range. Gregg Edelman as Dr. Manette, Aaron Lazar as Charles Darnay and Kevin
Earley are all
fine in less ostentatious roles. Although the powerful-voiced Natalie Toro held her big moments as a younger
and sexier Madame Defarge, this was character more as symbol (or pop opera
clich() than as dramatized human.
Sets
by Tony Walton are
spare and flexible to allow for fluid movement from scene to scene, and
commendation to costume designer David Zinn for making Lucie's dresses as
beautiful as she. (There are times I feel costume designers secretly hate
women. This is not one of those times.) Musical director Kevin Stites also deserves mention, because
the consistent beauty and phrasing of the singing doesn't happen with good
vocal genes alone.
Not
great art, but faithful enough to the story to allow a telling for those who
would prefer fine singing to Cliff's Notes. And you can count on a few of
Dickens' most famous lines. Far, far better lines than most of us can ever hope
to pen.