Directed by James Lapine.
A Dancap Production
at the Elgin Theatre
January 29-February 10, 2008
Going by conventional experience, it seems that America hates losers, especially if it feels they haven’t tried their best. Life becomes a contest in which the important thing is usually to win big. It’s a will to victory—whether the field is war, politics, game shows, “reality” shows, Big Business, Show Biz, et cetera. And it’s the sort of creed echoed in an often disarmingly charming way in Rachel Sheinkin’s book and William Finn’s lyrics for The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee—a show that began off-Broadway and just kept growing even past the Great White Way, begetting a touring company that has now reached Toronto. However, the musical comedy takes the cynicism out of the cynical, and adds polish to a mania that it portrays as something gentler and more diverting than mania would normally have a right to be in the big adult world. Although it runs a little too long (105 minutes without intermission) and repeats itself tirelessly, it’s a mostly charming show—an American settling of accounts about childhood and loss while poking fun at its young contestants and suggesting how they are initiated into the rigours of competition. In one sense, the spelling contest is a rite of passage, but the show colours this rite with satire, and the modest but witty score allows us to enjoy the fun and tension of kids without infantilizing everything. The simplicity of the staging does not mean it is unsophisticated. James Lapine directs with a big heart and a clear eye, managing to overcome the usual sweet stickiness of audience participation and the awkward make-believe of adults playing children.
Beowulf Boritt (what a name!) places a school gymnasium on stage, framed by receding proscenium arches in a skewed perspective, and the cast is uniformly excellent, beginning with Roberta Duchak presiding as perky, upbeat Rona Lisa Peretti, a former spelling champion and now a realtor extraordinaire, and deadpan James Kall, former Vice Principal with a somewhat neurotic bent, who is the word-pronouncer. This duo is supported from time to time by lanky Kevin Smith Kirkwood as Mitch Maloney, a black, dreadlocked Comfort Counsellor (a ghetto dude) who dispenses juice-boxes and hugs to disconsolate contestants when they are eliminated. As for the six performers playing the “kids,” they are hysterically accurate renditions of teenage or pre-pubescent whims, foibles, Angst, lust, and whatnot. Katie Boren’s Marcy Park, the Asian whiz who speaks six languages and is utterly adept at everything she does—from spelling to baton twirling, karate, piano, and dance—is a self-assured over-achiever with a dismaying secret. Andrew Keenan-Bolger’s Leaf Coneybear, last year’s hippie winner whose successful spelling takes the form of a sudden spasm, and Justin Keyes’ Boy Scout Chip Tolentino with a sudden, unmanageable spontaneous erection supply side-splitting comedy, without overshadowing the comedy from Dana Steingold’s lisping, pimply and pigtailed Logainne Schwartzandgrubenierre, the gal with two gay dads, or from Vanessa Ray’s gentle, yearning Olive Ostrovsky (caught in the middle of her parents' battles) or from Eric Roediger’s plump William Barfee (pronounced Bar-fay), the big guy with a sinus condition, whose big foot is a magic foot when it comes to his freakish spelling technique.
Rachel Sheinkin’s book works wonders with material that, on the face of it, would seem to defy musical comedy convention. The libretto exploits the very rubric of spelling bees for hilarious satire, delivering outrageous contexts for several words, such as jihad or strabismus, which I delight in repeating here: “Billy, quick, duck behind this western wall. I think I see a jihad coming” or “In the schoolyard, Billy protested that he wasn’t cockeyed. ‘I suffer from strabismus,’ he said, whereupon the bullies beat him harder.” Some of the jokes even have a hard edge, especially when they sustain topical references.
William Finn’s music and lyrics are generally genial and goofy, and though they often don’t have enough assertive character for a Broadway show, they serve the book’s purpose of summarizing the characters wittily and pointing up life’s lessons, with just enough wistfulness and sentimentality for the soft of heart. James Lapine’s direction manages to preserve a sense of a nice little offbeat show blown up just enough to reach mass audiences without benefit of dazzling technical effects or razzle-dazzle. This is not to say that the show is bland by any means. There are standout sequences—such as “My Unfortunate Erection (Chip’s Lament)” and Schwarzy’s “Woe Is Me,” Marcy Park’s “I Speak Six Languages,” and, perhaps best of all, “Magic Feet.” These moments don’t turn the show into a Stephen Sondheim or Jerry Herman musical, but they certainly are memorable firecrackers with which to celebrate an appealingly modest, charming, comic show that cuts across generational lines.
Photo: by Joan Marcus
Bottom row: Vanessa Ray, Eric Roediger, Dana Steingold
Top row: Justin Keyes, Katie Boren, Andrew Keenan-Bolger
Go Back to:
Stage
Reviews