This touring version of the
Trevor Nunn hit is a far cry from its London incarnation because it lacks
sophistication on almost all counts, excepting the trompe l’oeil
décor and sumptuous costumes (Anthony Ward) and the lighting by David Hersey.
Almost everything else is a coarsening of what was once regarded as the very
epitome of elegance in a golden Broadway musical. The overture is dominated
by brass rather than by strings, and the dance numbers by Matthew Bourne are
riotously vulgar in the Alfred P. Doolittle pub scenes and either clumsy
(the Embassy Ball) or ludicrous (the Ascot Gavotte). Eliza’s father is a
roguish dustman with a unique knack for twisted moralizing, and he is also a
rascal when it comes to the ladies. Tim Jerome plays him like a bold,
battling deadbeat, grizzled, loud and exploitative, and without any real
charm. This may be due in part to Nunn’s updating of the period (there are
visible suffragettes on hand, which sharpens the point of Eliza’s daring
ambition to climb out of her entrenched class), but it is also a matter of
running roughshod over Shaw’s original text. “With A Little Bit of Luck”
owes obvious debts to Stomp because of its clanging dustbin tops, and
“Get Me To The Church On Time” bustles with energy and movement, though the
dancing is repetitive. The witty “Ascot Gavotte,” where sophistication
depends on an exaggerated but artful slouch, deadpan hauteur, and the utter
suppression of any surface excitement looks artless and clumsy, with men
trotting like horses and the ladies looking uncomfortable in their formal
dresses. As for the acting, the production, at its best, is competent without being inspired. In the middle range, it is earnest but dull. The clash of British and American accents is unfortunate, and unsettling for those who know that despite its debts to fairy tale (Cinderella) and classical legend (Pygmalion and Galatea), the show is about class, language, and identity—the very things that wobble in this production. Walter Charles’ Colonel Pickering is a dry stick, indeed, while Marni Nixon’s Mrs. Higgins is passable, though fans of her singing (she dubbed Ms. Hepburn’s singing in the film version) will be disappointed that she doesn’t have a single number. Justin Bohon’s Freddy Eynsford-Hill is turned into a silly drunk who incongruously delivers the rhapsodic “On The Street Where You Live.” As for the Higgins and Eliza, there’s absolutely no chemistry between Christopher Cazenove and Lisa O’Hare, and so Higgins’ “I’ve Grown Accustomed To Her Face” springs up as a surprise in the wrong sense. Ms. O’Hare (who played Mary Poppins on stage in London) has a doe-eyed look, fine bones, and slim figure that put us in mind of Audrey Hepburn, and she sings beautifully. However, she has a limited acting range that makes her performance wispy rather than truly memorable. Her Higgins sometimes seems to be giving a performance copied to some degree from Rex Harrison’s, though he lacks Harrison’s elegant slouch, comic timing, tonal range, and snap, crackle, pop, and swoop in vocal delivery. His spoken-song is satisfactory, but he is careless in diction (sometimes even incomprehensible)—a shocking lapse in view of the fact that Higgins is a scientist of speech who wins his bet of turning a vulgar Cockney flower-seller into a well-spoken Princess.
photos: Joan
Marcus
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