A MIRVISH PRODUCTION
AT THE CANON THEATRE
 July 10-August 1, 2010

   Rain does the Beatles in a huge, multi-media way, and audiences can go home high on genuine artistry to complement the nostalgia factor. The show begins after a trivia quiz on the Fab Four on huge screens, and by the time the first images flash on the stage video screen—of Bill Haley and the Comets, Chuck Berry, dancers doing the Twist, et cetera—everyone is ready for the pop chronicle to chart the Moptop Mania that invaded New York in 1964. And the quartet of American impersonators (who bear a passable visual likeness to the originals, except when the video cam goes in for close-ups) do a wonderful job at their game, do a fair approximation of the accent, and opening with the early hits (“That Boy,” “I Saw Her Standing There,” “I Want to Hold Your Hand,” and others) in their entirety, not just in snippets as in many musical revues. The two huge side screens provide documentary footage of some headline moments of our times: a sequence from the Ed Sullivan Show, for instance, in 1965, when the Beatles sang “Yesterday” to screaming and adoring fans; or footage of the Fab Four in Nehru jackets or at Shea Stadium; or JFK in his Camelot phase. Period commercials (of Duz or liquid Prel) and snippets of pop artists of the era add to the verisimilitude. Later, the screens pulse and throb with colour as the revue catches up with the Psychedelic Age and Flower Power, when acid colours seemed to saturate everything from clothing to décor, and though the visuals can be distracting at times, they are important ways of creating an ambience while re-living eras.

   But technical cosmetics aside, the show sets a keen pace and never lets up in its ability to run through the record catalogue, with changes of costume, wig, and musical style duly noted. There’s almost everything you want to recall: “Bottle of Wine,” “Day Tripper,” “Sgt. Pepper,” “Eleanor Rigby,” “Strawberry Fields,” and “A Day in the Life” to end Part One. Part Two marks some of the radical transformations of the group’s image and direction both offstage and on, with acoustic guitars revving up in “Rubber Soul” and then delivering a show-stopping “Falling.” And adding to the excitement are the later gems: “Hey Jude,” “Come Together,” and “Get Back.” All four performers are excellent: Ralph Castelli does Ringo Starr, Joe Bithorn offers a stunning “My Guitar Gently Weeps” that would do the late George Harrison proud, Steve Landes on rhythm guitar is a wonderful John Lennon, and Joey Curatolo gets to lick his chops as Paul McCartney, minus the personality wrinkles. But mention has to be made, as well, of Mark Lewis on keyboards and percussion, inserting necessary sounds of The Beatles’ background instrumentation in their recording studio replications.

   Rarely has any musical revue left an audience in the sort of euphoria I witnessed at the Canon on opening night. The place rocked, and the Fab Four impersonators needed little effort to coax the crowd into standing, waving, handclapping in rhythm, or moving to the beats of tunes. If the opportunity had presented itself, there would have been wild dancing in the aisles. Everybody left remembering the Feel Good after-taste of a group that is destined for musical immortality.

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