Kat Stiennon
Strangely enough, the classic musical On the Town opens with a lullabye. That was one of many surprises in Capital City Theatre’s production, which played May 31-June 2 in the Capitol Theater at Overture Center. If starting a show with a sleepy longshoreman singing about a baby that kept him up for much of the previous night seems counterintuitive for a production that often bursts with energy, you’re right. But it also set the stage for a night of stark contrasts in tone, tempo and even genre.
This production was planned as part of the celebration of the 100th anniversary of Leonard Bernstein’s birth. It was cleverly conceived by director/choreographer Josh Walden and beautifully executed by members of the Madison Ballet and professional veterans of Broadway and regional stages. And the team compensated for the show’s paper-thin plot by performing each scene, song and dance number with exceptional artistry.
The show features a trio of sailors on leave in 1940s New York City for 24 hours: Gabey (Eddie Gutierrez), Chip (Joshua K. A. Johnson) and Ozzie (Nicolas Dromard). The actors shined in their roles as a lovesick farm boy, a nerdy tourist, and an over-confident lothario, respectively. And in eight small character parts, from that grumpy longshoreman to a frustrated archeologist to a severely repressed man of high society, the incredibly versatile Christopher deProphetis also deserves top billing. They each have strong singing voices with dramatically large ranges, a knack for broad, musical theater characterizations, and stunning dance moves, from soaring heel clicks to balletic spins. They really delivered on the show’s only hummable song — “New York, New York.”
While deProphetis excels above the rest in comic relief, it’s Gutierrez who steals the audience’s heart as a shy, small town guy who falls hard for the glamorous “Miss Turnstile” (Paige Sabo) after glimpsing her picture in the subway. His mournful “Lonely Town” and contrasting “Lucky to Be Me” were highlights of the show, musically and emotionally.
As the girls who are game to partner up with the Navy recruits for a day, Lizzie Cutrupi (Hildy, the forward cab driver), Abby Nichols (Claire, the expert on prehistoric man) and Sabo (Ivy, the struggling actress and beauty queen) were also top notch. Sabo is a gifted dancer who performed breathtaking pas de deux with Gutierrez; and Nichols’ barely contained lust — which keeps slipping out of her tightly laced, scientist facade — was impressive. But recent Oklahoma City University grad Cutrupi stole every scene, delivering “Come Up to My Place” and “I Can Cook Too” with energy and sizzling sex appeal. It’s no wonder Chip abandons sightseeing in favor of a tour of Hildy’s apartment.
Beyond the individual talent of the leads, the show succeeded on director Walden’s ambitious and inventive choreography, and stylized approach to the chestnut of a musical. There were plenty of dance breaks, and they were approached with dreamy reverence, showing off the talent of the ballet dancers. Crowd scenes were delightful and exaggerated exercises in quirky movement. Characters were consistently played for their cartoonishness. An interstitial gag involving a cranky old lady subway passenger (Gail Becker, in one of many kooky roles) and an increasing number of policemen was created as high melodrama. Instead of fighting the inherent silliness of the show, Walden embraced and accented it so every scene was full of whimsy and surprise.
Keith Pitts’ scenic design framed the action with a cityscape of famous buildings in New York, like a colorized black and white photo, creating the perfect backdrop for these caricatures. Two projection screens were also used effectively, contrasting a scratched two-tone picture of a Navy vessel in the foreground with kitschy, illustrated postcards that easily set the scene far upstage. Karen Brown-Larimore’s costumes (including dozens of matching ensembles for the dancers) reflected both the time period and the color palette of the production flawlessly. Every hat, glove and shoe was perfectly on point, giving the show a heightened sense of unity and theatricality.
Meanwhile, the 27-piece orchestra, led by Capital City’s Artistic Director Andrew Abrams, provided a lush musical foundation for all of the action on stage.
These terrific production elements couldn’t fully disguise the fact that the show is dated. Fans of modern musicals may be surprised at the simplicity of the characters and the number of songs that are neither memorable nor effective at moving the story forward. Leonard Bernstein’s On the Town debuted in 1944, based loosely on Jerome Robbins’s idea for a ballet called Fancy Free, which explains the show’s emphasis on dance. The feel-good premise of girl-crazy, but somehow wholesome, sailors on leave in the American marvel, New York City, for exactly one day of R&R probably felt like a lovely escape for the musical’s first audiences, as World War II was winding down.
And it must have been hugely reassuring that three gainfully employed women (two in traditionally male professions) were eager and willing to abandon their work — and in one case, a dull, aristocratic fiance — in favor of spending a day giving in to their wild, sexual sides with three brave, fighting men. To reinforce the optics of traditional gender roles, there are also plenty of “cheesecake” scenes — including a beauty pageant competition for the title of “Miss Turnstile,” a conga line, harem dancers and nightclub chorus girls who all jiggle and shimmy their way across the stage in swimsuits or bikini tops. It is practically a prequel to the movie musical An American in Paris, which also involves a GI who falls in love at first sight, chasing a girl all over a big city in search of perfect love. (Not coincidentally, both On the Town and An American in Paris were ideal vehicles for Gene Kelly and his blend of male charisma and exceptional dance skills.)
Does this take away from the fun of On the Town? Not really. This production celebrated the material for what it is — a cotton candy confection from Coney Island, on the centennial of Bernstein’s birth.
