BROADWAY FOR KIDS

Let me pause here for a digression.  Shrew is often considered an anachronism, a misogynistic look at outdated gender roles.  Indeed, I was unfortunate enough once to see a production in which the director took an un-PC glee in the degradation of Katharine, who thought Katharine really needed to be taken down a few pegs, and who made the initial “taming” sequence more of a vicious rape scene than a wooing of potential equals.  It was, without a doubt, one of the worst productions I’ve ever seen.  The irony of this approach is that, for the Elizabethan time from which it sprang, its view of gender roles was markedly advanced.  “Shrews” were usually “tamed” with violence and cruelty.  Petruchio, in contrast, takes a more fun-oriented, non-violent approach.  A close analysis of the play shows that his games and humiliations aren’t what “tames” Katharine, but her recognition that she can have fun with him, that they are “two of a kind,” that she can give as good as she gets.

 

This is also what has always appealed to me about Kiss Me, Kate. (Well, that and its slate earworm songs.)  Written at a time when gender roles were beginning to change (World War II sent women into the factories and into roles of leadership), it too shows a husband and wife who are truly equals, and whatever “taming” occurs” is rooted in Lilli’s recognition in what she is giving up, what she longs to hang onto, both personally and professionally.  And, after the curtain closes, you know she and Fred will fight like cats and dogs happily to the end.

 

To its credit, this production (thanks no doubt to director Bartlett Sher) smooths out some of the period “rough edges” while embracing others – there is no “spanking” this time, but “backstage smoking” seems to be the order of the day.   Most clever, is the changing of the final number to a duet, so it’s more an ode to love rather than a submission to obedience.

 

And, to be sure, there are some extraordinarily fine moments here – “Too Darn Hot” bursts with ribald energy and sex appeal. “I Hate Men” works in every way possible (in fact, I’m tempted to recommend you watch this just for Stephanie Block’s powerhouse performance as Lilli / Kate).  The opening is a well-blocked portrait of backstage life, (including hints of who hates whom).  The revolving backstage set is a work of wonder, a technical achievement that allows the action to continue even as it revolves.  And the gangsters (Nigel Lindsay and Hammed Animashaun) are (as always happen in any production of this) excellent as the comic/threat relief.

 

That being said, as good as the backstage set is, to see an onstage “Shrew” set that seems to be incompletely (and badly) drawn is, well, a bit disappointing.   Why go to the trouble of painting a finely detailed map backdrop for “We Open in Venice” only to have Padua look like something that is still waiting for completion?

 

I was fortunate enough to see the 1999 Broadway revival in which “Bianca” went from my least favorite song in the show to my favorite, thanks to Michael Berresse’s extravagant athleticism, including a final gymnastic climb up three stories of fire escape rails (I’ve included a YouTube recording of this below).  Here, to see Charlie Stemp as Bill Calhoun do a credible chorus and a credible dance break is fine (but less) and having Georgina Onuorah as Lois walk down to him is fine (but less).   As a whole it left me feeling … well, fine … but still disappointed.

 

Speaking of Ms. Onuorah, I have seen some top-notch singer/dancers in this role – Ann Miller in the 1953 movie version and a breathtaking Amy Spangler in the 1999 revival – so my expectation is that Lois / Bianca should be a standout dance role.  Ms. Onuorah belts like the best of them and is brilliantly flirtatious and engaging, but her dancing is confined to a few sways and bumps, easy moves that wouldn’t be beyond my own meagre abilities (I don’t dance, I fall).  Kudos to Mr. Sher and choreographer Anthony Van Laast for not making her do anything beyond her abilities, but to see “Tom, Dick, or Harry” performed as a dance trio around an adored (semi-stationary) fourth rather than a full-tilt boogie Fosse-esque quartet, is … well … disappointing.

 

But let’s get to my main problem with this production, the one that, IMHO, blows the whole thing up and makes it sink like a stone.  I’m talking about the casting of Brit-TV favorite Adrian Dunbar as Fred Graham.  I’m sure Mr. Dunbar is a popular actor in London, and the taping audience seem to go out of their way to cheer him, no matter how undeserved.  But Fred Graham is a larger-than-life character, a booming baritone who commands the stage every time he enters.  Howard Keel in the movie.  Understudy Merwin Foard in the 1999 revival (and I had so wanted to see Brian Stokes Mitchell;  fortunately, Mr. Foard was up to the challenge and was extraordinary).  Even J.C. Long in the Aurora’s 2009 production – too young by far (but still).  All OWNED the stage and screen. 

 

Mr. Dunbar seems to sneak on stage, almost apologizing for taking our time.  He is too old by about fifteen years, making him seem like Ms. Block’s father (and is positively creepy in his scenes with Ms. Onuorah).  Only Peter Davison (who was one of the Dr. Who’s – I forget which one) as the General seems older, and I have a sneaking suspicion he was “aged up” to contrast.  Yes, there are some age-related jokes added about this particular Fred, but, well, they’re more disappointing than actually engaging.  This actor doesn’t own the stage.  Not even close.

 

But the worst part of Mr. Dunbar’s performance is his singing.  Rather than the booming baritone of an Alfred Drake or a Howard Keel or a Brian Stokes Mitchell of even a Merwyn Foard, Adrian Dunbar chooses to give us songs in a wispy head voice (too often pitchy) that fails on every level.  In his duets with Ms. Block, the discordance is palpable and painful and sitting through “Where is the Life That Late I Led” is a challenge I’m afraid I failed (I used it as a bathroom break). At least we were spared “Were Thine That Special Face,” which (along with the General’s “From This Moment On”) was cut from this production.

 

I will always have a special place in my heart for Kiss Me, Kate.  It is (by far) my favorite Cole Porter musical.  And the staging of this one, the choreography, and the performance of Stephanie Block were all true delights for the Musical Nerd who controls my brain.  To be sure, an argument could be made that Mr. Dunbar’s performance may have worked in the context of a large proscenium venue (and I’ve been to the Barbican – it is cavernous – perfect for the Derek Jacobi Macbeth I saw there).  But the intimacy of the video camera is unforgiving.  Maybe he was “holding back” for the video – there’s nothing as uncomfortable as a close up of a performance aimed to the back balcony.  But, as it is now, this was a most disappointing Great Performances broadcast, and I can’t, in good conscience, recommend it.  Especially if you’ve seen Kiss Me, Kate elsewhere and elsewhen.  

 

    --  Brad Rudy  (BKRudy@aol.com    #PBSGreatPerformances     #KissMeKate    #ColePorter)

 

 

 

https://www.pbs.org/wnet/gperf/kiss-me-kate/16708/

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a1ZNKSMTFZc   (“From This Moment On” and “Bianca” from the 1999 Broadway Revival)