"If there's anything I hate worse than kids," says a character in the musical Gypsy, "it's kids on stage!"
Though the show made its Broadway debut almost 50 years ago, the topic is remarkably relevant in today's celebrity-obsessed society where the destructive paths of young stars like Britney Spears and Lindsay Lohan seem to be the norm rather than the exception.
As part of the Celebrity Attractions season at the Civic Center Music Hall, the national tour of Gypsy is boisterous and entertaining, but the tale of an obsessed stage mother too often hides the tragic context, instead concentrating primarily on levity.
Though the show made its Broadway debut almost 50 years ago, the topic is remarkably relevant in today's celebrity-obsessed society where the destructive paths of young stars like Britney Spears and Lindsay Lohan seem to be the norm rather than the exception.
As part of the Celebrity Attractions season at the Civic Center Music Hall, the national tour of Gypsy is boisterous and entertaining, but the tale of an obsessed stage mother too often hides the tragic context, instead concentrating primarily on levity.
A Stage Beginning
Marquees on each side of the proscenium mark the location as blond Baby June in all her ribbons and smiles, Shirley Temple cuteness prepares to audition for Uncle Jocko's vaudeville show. Scratch that. It's "Baby June and company." The "company" is Louise, stuck in the shadows behind her starlet sister.
Only a few bars into "Let Me Entertain You," the session is halted by the critical cries of their mother. "Sing out! You're behind," she says to Louise as Uncle Jocko demands the mother exit the stage.
But the headstrong, overbearing Rose is going nowhere. Not for a long time. Determined to see Baby June's name in lights on Broadway, she'll blackmail theatre managers, charm agents and live on pennies, saving money by stealing silverware from Chinese restaurants.
The pursuit of stage success is everything for Rose, played with fast-talking vigor by Kathy Halenda. She adds dancing newsboys to the act, forms a love/business alliance with the affable former agent turned candy salesman Herbie and gets Baby June on the theatrical circuit.
But kids grow up, of course. In Gypsy, they do so in a clever, strobe light segue in which the children are replaced mid-dance with their young adult counterparts. Many years have passed, but Rose and her "kids" are still living in squalor, doing the same tired number on stage for a pittance.
No need to worry. Rose had a dream, a vision of the perfect new act. They'll just add a cow. The newsboys will become ranch hands, and Baby June will be Dainty June, still belting "Let Me Entertain You" with her trademark squeak.
Only a few bars into "Let Me Entertain You," the session is halted by the critical cries of their mother. "Sing out! You're behind," she says to Louise as Uncle Jocko demands the mother exit the stage.
But the headstrong, overbearing Rose is going nowhere. Not for a long time. Determined to see Baby June's name in lights on Broadway, she'll blackmail theatre managers, charm agents and live on pennies, saving money by stealing silverware from Chinese restaurants.
The pursuit of stage success is everything for Rose, played with fast-talking vigor by Kathy Halenda. She adds dancing newsboys to the act, forms a love/business alliance with the affable former agent turned candy salesman Herbie and gets Baby June on the theatrical circuit.
But kids grow up, of course. In Gypsy, they do so in a clever, strobe light segue in which the children are replaced mid-dance with their young adult counterparts. Many years have passed, but Rose and her "kids" are still living in squalor, doing the same tired number on stage for a pittance.
No need to worry. Rose had a dream, a vision of the perfect new act. They'll just add a cow. The newsboys will become ranch hands, and Baby June will be Dainty June, still belting "Let Me Entertain You" with her trademark squeak.
Offstage Trouble
Promotional Photo © Wendy Mutz / Celebrity Attractions
Soon, however, the young performers are fed up. Tulsa, a talented tapper played by Samuel Linwood Kiernan, wants to create his own act, and the girls are tired of living under mother's controlling wing.
Throughout much of Act I, that primary conflict is masked. We're treated to the musical journey of Rose's children, a fun and playful struggle somewhere short of stardom, but the sadness in obsession and its effect on helpless children lie below the surface.
Missy Dowse (Louise) and Ruby Lewis (June) make a real connection as they dream of freedom's possibilities in the duet "If Momma Was Married," one of the unfortunately few times the production showcases the vocal talent of its performers together in harmony. Finally, we feel the tension building.
But in the same way the occasionally lengthy scene changes slow the pace, the story doesn't maintain that dramatic momentum. Suddenly June has run off with Tulsa, only a note serving as a somewhat clumsy narrative shift. The mother is devastated. But she picks herself up quickly.
In mere minutes, Rose pledges to atone for the deferential treatment of June by turning Louise into a star. As viewers, we are painfully aware of her irrational compulsion and even frightened of its consequence. But as Act II begins, Rose is singing "Together, Wherever We Go" with her one remaining daughter and Herbie, the man she manipulates with the promise of marriage.
The characters smile and twist together in creative choreography, truly indicative of the show's focus. It prefers to keep things as light-hearted as possible.
Throughout much of Act I, that primary conflict is masked. We're treated to the musical journey of Rose's children, a fun and playful struggle somewhere short of stardom, but the sadness in obsession and its effect on helpless children lie below the surface.
Missy Dowse (Louise) and Ruby Lewis (June) make a real connection as they dream of freedom's possibilities in the duet "If Momma Was Married," one of the unfortunately few times the production showcases the vocal talent of its performers together in harmony. Finally, we feel the tension building.
But in the same way the occasionally lengthy scene changes slow the pace, the story doesn't maintain that dramatic momentum. Suddenly June has run off with Tulsa, only a note serving as a somewhat clumsy narrative shift. The mother is devastated. But she picks herself up quickly.
In mere minutes, Rose pledges to atone for the deferential treatment of June by turning Louise into a star. As viewers, we are painfully aware of her irrational compulsion and even frightened of its consequence. But as Act II begins, Rose is singing "Together, Wherever We Go" with her one remaining daughter and Herbie, the man she manipulates with the promise of marriage.
The characters smile and twist together in creative choreography, truly indicative of the show's focus. It prefers to keep things as light-hearted as possible.
Spotlight on the Merriment
This choice is certainly to the delight of the audience for the majority of the production. Louise's act is booked accidentally into a burlesque theatre, and the laughs are plentiful. Three strippers (played with a delightful bawdiness by Rachel Abrams, Maria Egler and Loriann Freda) raise the house with their number explaining the secret to success in the business, "Gotta Get a Gimmick."
It's one of the high points in an otherwise fairly even show. There are very few weaknesses in a production with well-timed and polished dance numbers, illustrative scene design and strong vocals. But there are few transcendent moments either. In the same way, the music by Jule Styne is pleasing and effective but not overly memorable outside of a few notable standards such as "Let Me Entertain You" and "Everything's Coming Up Roses."
Nevertheless, it's an engaging ride throughout. It isn't until the show nears its end that the conflict over Rose's obsession truly boils over as a headline opportunity emerges for Louise. The problem? It's a starring spot as a stripper. Rose decries the profession as unladylike, but the lure of her daughter's name in lights is simply too much to overcome.
She convinces her timid daughter to take the stage, and the famed striptease artist "Gypsy Rose Lee" is born.
It's one of the high points in an otherwise fairly even show. There are very few weaknesses in a production with well-timed and polished dance numbers, illustrative scene design and strong vocals. But there are few transcendent moments either. In the same way, the music by Jule Styne is pleasing and effective but not overly memorable outside of a few notable standards such as "Let Me Entertain You" and "Everything's Coming Up Roses."
Nevertheless, it's an engaging ride throughout. It isn't until the show nears its end that the conflict over Rose's obsession truly boils over as a headline opportunity emerges for Louise. The problem? It's a starring spot as a stripper. Rose decries the profession as unladylike, but the lure of her daughter's name in lights is simply too much to overcome.
She convinces her timid daughter to take the stage, and the famed striptease artist "Gypsy Rose Lee" is born.
The Curtain Closes
Promotional Poster © Celebrity Attractions
Louise, who was rarely given any positive reinforcement in her life, adores her newfound status as sex symbol, and Rose, now that she's no longer needed, must finally face the insecurities that caused her to live vicariously through her children.
Unfortunately, it's a lot of emotion to be resolved in such a short time, and the show seems to hurry through it. The conclusion returns a happy face after a brief and somewhat superficial treatment of the drama. As with much of the narrative before, it scarcely wishes to address such grave issues.
In the end, the audience emerges smiling after the entertaining spectacle of Gypsy. Like the show, we try to be only slightly unsettled by the underlying tragedy of obsession and lost youth.
Unfortunately, it's a lot of emotion to be resolved in such a short time, and the show seems to hurry through it. The conclusion returns a happy face after a brief and somewhat superficial treatment of the drama. As with much of the narrative before, it scarcely wishes to address such grave issues.
In the end, the audience emerges smiling after the entertaining spectacle of Gypsy. Like the show, we try to be only slightly unsettled by the underlying tragedy of obsession and lost youth.
