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The real stars of Disney Theatrical’s The Lion King, in Boston at The Opera House through March 21, never actually appear onstage. They do, however, infuse every inch of this live action adaptation of the animated children’s classic with such glorious, spine-tingling spectacle that you almost forgive the clichéd book and bland pop score.

The credit for making The Lion King a Tony Award winner (and soon to be the eighth longest running show in Broadway history) goes to visionary director Julie Taymor and her magical design team. Additional accolades go to Mark Mancina, Hans Zimmer, Jay Rifkin and Lebo M for enhancing Elton John and Tim Rice’s candy-coated children’s score with haunting African rhythms and choral chants. The combination of epic visual landscapes and evocative musical underscoring has created a feast for the eyes and ears that has propelled The Lion King into legendary status.

The stunning “Circle of Life” opening sequence that depicts sunrise on the Serengeti sets an expectation for The Lion King that is difficult to sustain. Giraffes, elephants, gazelles, zebras, leopards, lions, hippos and wildebeests roam the anthropomorphized plains in front of a rippling crepe paper sun that sends shimmering waves of light through the dusty mists of dawn. Actors – ingeniously costumed and masked and manipulating life-sized puppets – embody all of the flora and fauna of the savanna. Representing thorn bushes, cacti, palms and umbrella trees, monkeys, rodents, crocodiles and ostrich, their movements are both balletic and powerful. The impact is unforgettable. Life courses through every blade of grass and grain of sand.

Then the story begins, and The Lion King sputters. Moments of true theatrical genius keep getting interrupted by stock characterizations, trite humor, and pedestrian musical numbers that may be fine for a theme park but are woefully out of place in the show’s fictional African Pridelands. The biggest threat to The Lion King’s exalted throne isn’t the villainous Scar and his herd of cackling hyenas. It’s the juvenile pandering that undermines the show’s majestic possibilities at every turn.

A spiritual intensity enlivens The Lion King whenever Taymor and company’s fantastic African sights and sounds take precedence. The penetrating drum beats and panoramic celestial images of “They Live in You” and “Endless Night” create a powerful connection between the young Simba’s lesson about leadership at his father the King Mufasa’s knee and the grown Simba’s reawakening to the strength he has inside him. “Shadowland” and even the pop-tinged “Can You Feel the Love Tonight” fuse contemporary messages of courage and empowerment with insistent cadences that suggest universality and timelessness.

But for every compelling, eye-popping sequence like the climactic thundering stampede that kills Mufasa and forces Simba into a self-imposed exile, there are inconsequential and anachronistic little ditties like “The Morning Report” and “I Just Can’t Wait to Be King.” These songs, along with the lighter than air “Hakuna Matata” lifted straight from the movie, keep pulling The Lion King out of its heavenly orbit and returning it to the land of Disney.

The cast of this national touring production, featuring a mix of Broadway alums and Lion King newcomers, is competent but nondescript. Dionne Randolph as King Mufasa is a suitable mix of command and compassion, while Brent Harris as his n’er do well brother Scar is the very definition of effete evil. André Jackson as the conflicted Simba and Marja Harmon as the principled Nala make an attractive pair of heroes and lovers. Their younger selves – Elijah Johnson and Jamariana Tribble, alternating with Jerome Stephens, Jr. and Madai Monica Williams – are more energetic than eloquent. (Given the challenging acoustics of the Opera House, it was often difficult to hear what they were saying). As the put upon aide Zazu – first loyal to Mufasa then submissive to the usurper Scar – Tony Freeman is comically reminiscent of the late Roddy McDowell. Tyler Murree as Timon, the unencumbered meerkat, does his best Nathan Lane impersonation. Ben Lipitz as the flatulent wart hog Pumbaa conveys the sweet center beneath the scruffy hide. Andrea Jones, Omari Tau and Ben Roseberry are lightweight ghetto-talking street toughs as the ravenous and rabid hyenas.

The one standout in a cast of cookie cutter caricatures is South African native Phindile Mkhize as Rafiki. Serving as a visual narrator and spiritual guide, she is part playful baboon and part tribal shaman. She imparts wisdom through African chants and clicks, all the while strutting and swaggering as if possessed of an indefatigable joy of life. Her reprise of “He Lives in You” is sung with all the force of a gospel hymn, and it is thrilling.

This national tour makes it very clear why Julie Taymor became the first woman in Broadway history to win a Tony Award as Best Director of a Musical. Her brilliant vision and spectacular staging make The Lion King a must see – at least once. For those who prefer more substantial music and storytelling to go along with their special effects, however, once may be quite enough.

PHOTOS BY JOAN MARCUS: The Tree of Life; Brent Harris as Scar and Dionne Randolph as Mufasa; André Jackson as Simba and Marja Harmon as Nala; Phindile Mkhize as Rafiki

Posted by theatrecritic at 11:27 AM | Permalink

The powerhouse vocal talent is there. The eye-popping costumes and scenery are there. The fluid set changes and high-octane performances that keep the pace from sagging are there. So what’s missing from this entertaining, and at times exhilarating, touring revival of Dreamgirls, shaking and baking the rafters at The Colonial Theatre in Boston till February 14?

In a word – soul.

Chronicling the unprecedented rise of the R&B girl group The Dreams (think Supremes) to the top of the pop charts from 1962 to 1975, Dreamgirls is as much about fighting for success as it is about the ideals that are lost in achieving it. This isn’t a simple feel-good story about heretofore marginalized black artists “making it” in the world of mainstream pop music. Rather it’s a gritty look at record industry graft, painful betrayals, personal sacrifices, and the distasteful compromises that are made in order to create what will eventually become known as the Motown Sound, a new, softer kind of Rhythm and Blues that will appeal to a wider, translate “whiter,” audience.

At the center of this new era in crossover music is the ambitious car salesman turned promoter, Curtis Taylor, Jr. Smart, charming, persuasive, and ruthless, Taylor worms his way into becoming manager of The Dreams and sets sparks flying when he replaces Effie, the large framed and even larger voice lead singer, with Deena, the slender, gentler sounding back-up with a more marketable image. When Taylor replaces Effie with Deena in his bedroom as well as on stage, it’s clear that his choice of woman has as much to do with his dream of success as it does his personal attraction.

For all the backstage drama and underhanded dealings that create a pulsating tension in Dreamgirls, however, this production somehow hides its dangerous dark side beneath a perpetually shiny veneer. The glitz and glam of the megawatt onstage performances don’t recede enough into murky shadows offstage when the cocaine is snorted or the payola exchanged. A key theme song for the men behind the Dreams may be “Steppin’ to the Bad Side,” but when the “I’m Too Sexy for My Shirt” staging and choreography look like they would be more comfortable on a fashion runway than onstage at the Apollo, the bad isn’t bad enough.

The slick computer-generated digital projections that suggest larger-than-life television monitors and movie screens also create an anachronistic disconnect between the very suitable 1960s and 1970s wigs and wardrobe and the contemporary high-tech scenery. Granted the black metal mesh panels and inventive lighting design make for stunning visual effects and seamless scene changes, but the cleverness of the set often overwhelms the actors. There is a general lack of subtlety or nuance throughout the production. Too much of the design and direction seems self-indulgent. For example, a Busby Berkeley-style dance routine is so elaborate in its use of projections to mirror the pattern that the dancers are forming on the floor that it’s hard to remember exactly what the point of the scene was in the first place. Instead of working in service to the story, much of the design and hyperkinetic choreography becomes the story.

Several fine performances are the saving grace that make this Dreamgirls thrilling, if not totally satisfying. Chester Gregory as flamboyant R&B king James “Thunder” Early wears his anguish on his sleeve as he riles against assimilating into homogenized pop culture. When in his tour de force number “The Rap” he finally breaks free of his manufactured Johnny Mathis persona and lets his freak flag fly, he has all the energy, intensity, and sexual heat of the late great James Brown, the legendary “Godfather of Soul” that Early obviously represents.

Syesha Mercado as the elegant Deena Jones effectively conjures the spirit of another musical legend, Diana Ross. Blossoming from back-up singer into full-blown star when she takes over the lead spot from the less “sellable” but more talented Effie, Mercado’s Deena evolves from shy teen to luminous celebrity. Her vocal inflections, warm smile, and fluid movement evoke the essence of her real-life counterpart without becoming parody. Whenever Mercado sings, Deena sparkles.

As the indefatigable Effie, newcomer Moya Angela is a powerhouse singer, making a very impressive debut. Given the thankless job of trying to banish memories of Broadway’s original Effie Jennifer Holliday and the recent movie’s inheritor Jennifer Hudson, Angela makes Effie her own, leaving absolutely nothing on the table when she delivers the iconic show-stopping number “And I Am Telling You I’m Not Going.” While her acting in the scenes leading up to her big moment is a bit postured and shrill, making her less sympathetic than she needs to be, she redeems herself as soon as she starts to sing. With tears streaming down her face and heartbreak threatening to choke her every breath, Angela harnesses a determination deep inside herself that rescues her Effie from the brink of collapse and then catapults her onto a level of awareness that makes her next number, “I Am Changing,” a testament to her maturity and self acceptance.

Supporting players offer strong vocals and energy to burn in their production numbers. Adrienne Warren is a particularly fine Lorrell Robinson, the third Dream who grows from naïve back-up singer to Jimmy’s bitter long-term mistress. Trevon Davis is a kind if nondescript C.C., a songwriter whose desire to rise along with the Dreams estranges him from his older sister Effie.

Chaz Lamar Shepherd as Curtis is the one major disappointment in Dreamgirls. He plays his canny manager too one dimensionally, making him a charmless villain instead of a man so hungry for success that he’d manipulate anything and everyone – even the women he claims to love – to get them and himself to the top. He’s supposed to be “the best man” Effie’s “ever known.” There’s no evidence of that in Shepherd’s performance.

Despite the fact that this touring revival of Dreamgirls has put too many layers of polish on the surface and not enough layers of honest emotion underneath, it is nonetheless a welcome return of a ground-breaking piece of American musical theater. The cast is filled with talent and bursting with exuberance, and while the overall production doesn’t necessarily make an impact beyond “one night only,” there’s enough soul-stirring music to make up for the lack of soul in Longbottom’s direction.

PHOTOS BY JOAN MARCUS: Adrienne Warren as Lorrell, Syesha Mercado as Deena, and Moya Angela as Effie; male ensemble “Steppin’ to the Bad Side;” Chester Gregory as Jimmy; Moya Angela

Posted by theatrecritic at 10:42 PM | Permalink

When the marquee at the Neil Simon Theatre on West 52^nd Street in New York went dark on Sunday, January 10, the critically acclaimed Kennedy Center revival of the Tony and Drama Desk Award-winning musical Ragtime that transferred to Broadway in the fall came to a disappointing end. This powerful drama – which many aficionados say is destined to become an American musical theater classic – closed after only 65 performances.

So what went wrong?

Did Ragtime come back to Broadway too soon? Was the 1998 original – which solidified the careers of stars Brian Stokes Mitchell, Marin Mazzie, and Audra McDonald on the A-list – too fresh in people’s minds? Was the show, with its somber themes about racism, immigration, social injustice, and terrorism, too dark for our politically and economically challenged times?

Perhaps, to some extent, all of the above are true. But I have to believe that this revival of Ragtime could have found a larger audience if the marketing had been more emotionally compelling instead of esoteric and self-important.

1. Create excitement by playing up the show’s stunning pedigree.

The original production of Ragtime was nominated for 12 Tony Awards and won four of them, including Best Book and Best Score. Ragtime also earned 13 Drama Desk Award nominations, winning five, including one for Best Musical. Where were the references to these awards in the revival’s advertising? Buried in body copy in small type. They should have been proudly and prominently displayed – in bold – on every ad, poster, web page and window card.

2. Get personal, not political.

One of the major criticisms of Ragtime is that it can come across as too “preachy,” a “history lesson” set to music. I personally don’t find this to be the case. For me the book is fluid and captivating while the score is one of the most emotionally stirring I have ever heard. It’s a brilliantly written musical drama that tells the story of three very different families whose worlds collide at the turn of the 20^th century. Characters are beautifully drawn, and when played for truth and simplicity, the show resonates on a very visceral level.

Unfortunately, the ad campaign for this revival only fed into the notion that Ragtime is an “important” work that you “should” see instead of an exhilarating experience that you “must not” miss. Television ads featured clips of speeches from FDR, JFK, Ronald Reagan, Hilary Clinton and Barack Obama. The show poster was a complex illustration that created a towering Statue of Liberty out of historic, social, political, cultural, economic, and industrial iconography. At the base of the statue, which morphed into an upright piano, sat a lone black musician, his arms reaching upward and his back to the viewer.

This symbolic approach distanced the audience from the material from the get go. The emphasis was unquestionably on “big themes” and not everyday people. The kaleidoscope of details overwhelmed the nondescript man whose face we didn’t even see.

3. Connect emotionally with a message that is clear and uplifting.

The ad slogan for this Ragtime revival was vague and uninspiring: “Their Time. Our Time. Ragtime.” What does that mean? Who are “they?” What does anything about the show have to do with me here, now, today? Nothing in that bland message would encourage a tourist from Idaho to plunk down $130 to see Ragtime instead of Mamma Mia during Christmas vacation. That slogan presumes a prior knowledge of the show’s subject matter. For most Americans, I’d wager that’s a false assumption.

If I had been involved in the development of Ragtime’s ad campaign, I would have gone with something more upbeat and descriptive. The first goal would have been to hit people where they live emotionally by using words that are dynamic and positive. The second would have been to communicate the essence of the story while generating curiosity and interest.

My approach:

Three key themes emerge from the central characters in Ragtime, all trying to live out their own versions of The American Dream. Tateh is a Latvian immigrant, trying to find success in a strange and unwelcoming new world. Mother is a proper Victorian housewife struggling to find and express her emerging feminist’s voice as new dreams and opportunities spark new hope. Coalhouse is an African American, a pianist two generations removed from slavery and eager to seize the fruits of freedom and equality. Their stories unfold and intertwine at the turn of the 20^th century against a backdrop of tumultuous socio-economic change. Their challenges and choices are underscored by a bold new music - ragtime. My ad campaign would have clearly communicated all three themes.

The result:

The evocative pulsating headline weaves the three story arcs together in a potent triptych which can be illustrated easily using expressive close-up photos of the three principals. Tateh = New World. Mother = New Hope. Coalhouse = New Music. The tagline is added to punctuate the fluid, and musical, nature of the characters’ changing lives while also fixing the story in its proper time period.

Additionally, the themes subtly offer parallels to our world today. We, too, seek hope for positive change at the beginning of a tumultuous new century. Perhaps our leaders can come together to write “new music” for our generation.

This personal, character-driven approach that I would have taken “explains” the show while giving the audience something to connect to, people they can identify with, and ideas they can easily understand. The branding gives people a sense of the epic scope of the musical but it does so by grabbing them by the emotional collar.

In conclusion:

Ragtime is first and foremost a great piece of musical theater. It is not a “lesson” that must be endured because it is “important” or “good for you.” The original ran for two solid years on Broadway. Still today music from its thrilling score is regularly performed by symphony orchestras around the world.

I can’t say whether or not this particular production of Ragtime moved its audiences enough to warrant a longer run. Perhaps for some it seemed as distancing and didactic as its incoherent ad campaign. Most reviews seem to suggest otherwise, although some critics did complain about a lack of “star quality” among the cast members. Perhaps even with compelling promotional materials, this show would not have been able to become a success. If it lacked that intangible emotional spark that can elevate a “performance” to make it an “experience,” then the best marketing in the world would not have given it life beyond the initial advance.

Ultimately, hits resonate with people and generate enthusiastic word of mouth. Once a show gains popular momentum, the public’s tail begins to wag the marketing dog. The initial challenge of any ad campaign, therefore, is to attract that all important baseline audience that builds exponentially once positive response is passed along. For this revival of Ragtime, that critical mass was never achieved.

Posted by theatrecritic at 12:46 PM | Permalink