This wonderful frolic from the
50s, set in the Big Apple, has allusions that have dated, but its score and
drolleries haven’t. The music of Leonard Bernstein and the lyrics of Betty
Comden and Adolph Green are a heavenly match, serving up wit, jazz, and
charm in proportions we rarely get today in our musicals. True, the book
(adapted from Joseph Fields and Jerome Chodorov’s My Sister Eileen,
which in turn was based on Ruth McKenny’s semi-autobiographical stories for
the New Yorker) is really a collection of episodes built
around two sisters from Ohio—one (the plain one) a wisecracking writer, the
other an aspiring, pulchritudinous actress—who seek their fortunes in New
York, only to discover a host of problems before everything is sorted out in
time for the finale. While Eileen is able to draw men’s attentions faster
than a wolf whistle, Ruth is an expert (as one of her songs puts it) at
finding “One Hundred Easy Ways To Lose A Man.” However, both have to
contend, first of all, with New York itself. An urchin almost makes off with
Ruth’s typewriter (the one missing the “W”), and then there’s portly
landlord Appopolous who is sharper than a card shark as he rents them a tiny
basement apartment in bohemian Greenwich Village (circa 1935), that is as
low as they can sink, though the dynamite blasts from the subway project
beneath them makes them wonder if they will sink even lower. At the very
least, this portent of disaster makes them wonder in a wryly comic melodic
duet “Why oh why oh why oh, why did we ever leave Ohio?” More trouble
ensues, of course. When Ruth is eventually given a magazine assignment to
interview some Brazilian sailors, she is swept into their Conga, and in the
ensuing melee, she slugs a policeman and is arrested. The sisters face
eviction. But this being a musical fable, things that go wrong are righted in fine fashion. Associate Editor Robert Baker falls in love with Ruth, enhancing her chances at being published, and sister Eileen charms virtually every male in her vicinity, and when she isn’t fascinating an Irish policeman (who insists she’s Irish), she joins Ruth in a gloriously rousing tribute to New York (“The Wrong Note Rag”). Bernstein’s score highlights straight ballads and parodies of swing, and the lyrics are admirably clever. Everything necessary for a light-hearted entertainment that Roger Hodgman’s production generally manages to deliver. William Schmuck’s set design is
never better than when it opens up for the nightclub numbers, and Judith
Bowden’s costumes are fine. Jane Johanson’s choreography, however, is
lackluster, and the musical direction and orchestrations by Paul Sportelli
are open to the usual complaints about a lack of dimension and texture in
Shaw Festival musicals. “The Wrong Note Rag,” for instance, hasn’t got all
the right notes to be a big triumph. Likewise, “Pass The Football,” Wreck
the Linebacker’s satiric solo, though part of the problem with this one is
Thom Marriott who slows down the tempo. The “Conga,” too falls a little
flat, but there are other compensations. Jay Turvey’s “Quiet Girl” is nice
and warm, and Ruth’s show-stopping “Swing” does just that—with a colourful
assist from Lorne Kennedy’s “hepcat” Speedy Valenti in the dialogue and
satiric departments. There is ample support from Thom Allison’s Chick Clark and Gabrielle Jones’ stuffily conservative Mrs. Wade, as well as from Jeff Madden in a couple of roles, and William Vickers’ Irish cop is a delight. As for the sisters, Chilina Kennedy is all twinkle and sparkle as Eileen, convincing you that she could charm the husk off corn, let alone the hearts and hormones of men. Lisa Horner as Ruth is wonderful, capturing the almost casual, throwaway wit of the character, as well as shading her comedy with nuances of spinsterish anxiety. She is bold in her physical comedy, and she certainly combines with Ms. Kennedy in giving us a lot to cheer about.
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