Theater review
GYPSY
Three hours, with one intermission. At the Majestic Theatre,
245 W. 44th St.
“Gypsy” is, by the estimation of many — including me — the greatest musical ever written.
But you wouldn’t know it from the slow and unsteady revival starring Audra McDonald that opened Thursday at the Majestic Theatre.
The quintessentially American story about driving and moving from place to place while scraping by with a pipe dream of stardom does not satisfyingly drive or move. With stop-start direction from George C. Wolfe, the sixth Broadway production of Jule Styne, Stephen Sondheim and Arthur Laurents’ musical runs out of gas early.
McDonald plays Mama Rose — a k a Rose Hovick, the real overbearing stage mother of famed stripper Gypsy Rose Lee. As far as Broadway roles go, the part has no peer. She’s been taken on by Ethel Merman, Angela Lansbury, Tyne Daly, Bernadette Peters and Patti LuPone. Not too shabby.
Joining their esteemed ranks, McDonald undeniably makes Rose her own, as her predecessors all did, with a thoughtful portrayal. In demeanor, her Mama is unusually soft and vulnerable, with eyes that well up long before the climactic finale, “Rose’s Turn.”
She’s less aggressive or mean than she is frantic, speaking lightning-fast in an almost mutter while buzzing about the stage, cajoling to get her daughters ahead. The actress goes for maybe half the biting laughs that are available to her. For a character described in the script as not nice, McDonald’s interpretation is, well, awfully nice. A Rose without thorns.
Which brings me to her singing. The actress’ silky soprano has been celebrated for decades. She’s won six Tonys. And her voice is as beautiful as ever here — unfortunately, often on songs that flat-out must not be pretty to fulfill their dramatic purpose: the raw desire to succeed in a harsh world.
Until “Rose’s Turn,” in which she powerfully cries and shakes as Rose breaks down, her numbers like “Some People” and “Everything’s Coming Up Roses” tend to float soothingly. In “Gypsy,” that’s tantamount to a parking brake. Imagine another Styne tune, “Don’t Rain On My Parade,” being sung like “Casta Diva,” and you get some idea.
Rose’s ride begins on the vaudeville circuit in Seattle as she travels around the country with her little girls, Baby June, the star, and Louise, a meek background singer, striving to get their big break in showbiz.
Desperate as Mama Rose is, she isn’t all that talented. She makes the kids do variations on the same cute farmhouse dances over and over that she comes up with in dreams.
Jerome Robbins’ iconic transition, in which the children become teens, has been nothing short of ruined by Wolfe and choreographer Camille A. Brown. I say either do it or top it. The middle ground is deadly. But there is no thrilling staging or dance to be found anywhere all night long.
They take place on Santo Loquasto’s small, drab sets that are swallowed up by the stage like some Majestic dragon.
Now older and called Dainty June, the bubbly girl is played by the fabulous Jordan Tyson, who brings a wallop of energy and freshness to an otherwise slow start. Her facial expressions are a marvel, and she’s the funniest June I’ve ever seen.
Rose meets Herbie, a sweet traveling salesman who becomes the girls’ agent and their mother’s beleaguered boyfriend. Danny Burstein makes a passive beau, letting McDonald hold sway until he’s abruptly yelling at someone. The pair have a warm chemistry together wherever they go.
Joy Woods, meanwhile, is teen Louise, who eventually turns into Gypsy. The actress convincingly goes from demure wallflower to uber-confident, world-class burlesque star.
However, the famous number in which the normally stunning turnaround happens, “The Strip,” has been staged with a careless air of indifference and is poorly paced. It lacks weight and purpose. Because it takes place behind a misguided passerelle — an infrequently used gangway in front of the orchestra pit — the audience is too far away to be glued.
Before “Rose’s Turn” the biggest applause of the night goes to “You Gotta Get A Gimmick,” the hilarious number in which three seasoned strippers teach Louise the ropes (“If you wanna bump it, bump it with a trumpet!”).
Lesli Margherita, Lili Thomas and Mylinda Hull are very funny as the eccentric dancers. But they perform the parts so enormously that they’re out of whack with the rest of the show, which has been frustratingly dialed down and never settles on a consistent tone other than dull.
Better advice for next time would be: You gotta get a different director.
