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In the world of musical theatre, anything can happen, and often does. This is especially true at the New York International Fringe Festival. Dinosaurs can sing and dance in one show and bring a fresh energy to musical theatre traditions that may seem, um, prehistoric…and the next day, at another show, the genre can seem as extinct as dinosaurs. I’ve seen musicals with feminist themes, set centuries and worlds apart: one involving an 18-year-old woman who wants to follow in her grandfather’s footsteps and be a grand wizard and the other an assertive woman coming to NYC to program computers and wishing she could de-program the sexist men.
And did I mention that those dinosaurs are all female and appalled by male behavior, too – especially when one turns into a male due to some DNA from frogs? Well, welcome to the Fringe Festival. Here are reviews of those shows. Info on these and all 197 shows in the Festival, which ends on August 29, is at www.fringenyc.org – tickets are $15 in advance or $18 at the door, or volunteer and see a free show or 50.
First, the dinosaurs. Yes, it’s Jurassic Parq. …..As a musical? As Tevye in Fiddler on the Roof says about a fiddler being on a roof, “Sounds crazy, no?” Yes, it is. Very crazy. And thank goodness. It’s crazy, silly, absurd, quite delightful and wears its combo of jaunty juvenile humor, snarky sex references and references to the movie of the same name with a smug smile. I smiled dozens of times, too. If you don’t know about the original book and 1993 Steven Spielberg-directed blockbuster movie Jurassic Park, with a slightly different spelling and very different tone, maybe you’ve been living in a cave like the dinosaurs in question. These belatedly cloned creatures, all female, chat and sing and dance, and address our deep-voiced, strolling, white-suited host-narrator as either Samuel L. Jackson, from the film’s cast, or Morgan Freeman. He looks nothing like either. But then again, they don’t look like dinosaurs. No headpieces here. No tails. And some in the cast playing “females” are, quite matter-of-factly, men to our eyes. Without dragging us into drag or signing up for camp, the men straight-facedly and sincerely sing about how it’s a beautiful day to be a woman. With some tacky talk and sassy song about male physical attributes and primal sex urges, there’s bawdiness and outrageousness but often very creative, unexpected humor. Even the printed program bios are hilarious. Leave your mind and propriety at home and get set for a playful wink, wink, wink at musical theatre conventions and movies.
One can imagine this show having an easy cult following for a long run of late-night performances in cities all over the country; it’s royally 
entertaining, eliciting loud guffaws, cheers, howls of appreciation. Dionosaurs in love! Heroic doings! Setting free the banished morphing-into-male, after a moment of occasionally gross-out rapping. For me, a few moments get raunchier than need be, some easy temptations to go for the gutter and groin were not resisted, and the clever moments and word play are more rewarding. Most of it suits me to a T-(Rex). Excellent ensemble work all around is the order of the day, with a special shout-out to the one cast member who doesn’t shout out: the white-faced mime. In this role, Broadway-experienced Brandon Espinoza is a constant one-man bundle of inventiveness, reacting, expanding, commenting, madly mixing Brandon’s brand of sign language with subversive mirth and dance movements. The entertaining songs bubble over with self-aware spunk and nitwit charm. That is to say, they’re a hoot, and tickle the ear and funnybone. And someone had the bright idea – one of many – to not just depend on the punch of the punchlines but to make sure there are some good voices in there and real melodies. This polished mayhem is written by Emma Barash, director Marshall Pailet and producer Bryce Norbitz. Steve Wargo is credited for additional story and book. Kyle Mullins as choreographer is on the same page, adding to and embellishing the energy without a false step, making the movements of odd creatures in big ensemble numbers seem as natural and pleasing as a walk in the Parq. I think we have a hit.
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Meanwhile, back in the real world – or what passes for it, the next show is contemporary but less creative. “I am not your Russian doll!” cries Mila in a fit of frustration. “I came here freely seeking freedom!” Be careful what you expect when matchmaking for yourself long distance via the internet. The title characters of Menny and Mila are from two different worlds. He, Menny --short for Menachim – is a nice guy from New York City and she, Mila – short for Ludmila, is from the former Soviet Union, but their romantic union is not a sure bet. Don’t order those wedding invitations quite yet. They had e-mailed and e-mailed and e-mailed and he sponsors her trip. So, why in the world when they meet at the airport as planned does he ask, in plaintive song, if she “remembers” him? Some lyrics seem slapdash, workmanlike, or like repetitive filler, with some nicer, smarter, tarter ideas sprinkled in. Likewise, melodies can be peppy and agreeable with different ingredients and styles, but this tossed musical salad with Russian dressing doesn’t stick to the ribs. By the way, don’t be alarmed when the pianist steps away from the piano seat to join the cast as a character and then returns to the keys.
Action alternates between M&M’s private encounters around town, and seeing them separately at their workplaces with insensitive or vaguely involved co-workers. Another potential love partner is waiting in the wings, or, rather, at the next desk or office. We see Mila, the computer whiz, facing some sexist-based prejudice. Men are jerks, and just “want to squeeze your melons,” as one griping song goes. A lot of time is spent at Menny’s newsroom workplace where he and his workmates, with a touch of sadistic glee, come up with catchy headlines about the scandals du jour. The show begins there, with the first topic of discussion a vomiting V.I.P. Not a pretty start. The newspaper environment has little connection to the main plot surrounding our would-be, could-be, maybe-won’t-be-after-all lovers. So, why all this newspaper talk? Stop the presses; could it be that the writer of the book, music, and lyrics, Paul Schultz, has worked many years for The Daily News? Write what you know, they say. OK, maybe the journalism jabs are fodder for another whole show; besides a few moments, it feels like an unrelated side trip with some uninteresting and/or underdeveloped characters you wouldn’t want to share an office with. There are, however, a few amusing headlines that recall some real-life clever or tacky headlines that “sell papers.” In any location, or with whatever castmates, it’s the talented, likeable Josh Canfield’s endearing, puppy dog-like portrayal of Menny that is the production’s real asset. Add to that checklist of plus factors his appealingly contemporary pop singing voice, projecting sweet vulnerability without being a wimp, and stage presence. This show requires a lot of patience, and I don’t just mean waiting for the couple to make peace or make love or make themselves some real happiness, separately or apart. A lot of this is tedious and trying, unconvincing, clumsy and uninvolving. Sure, there are some cute bits of misunderstanding with slang expressions that don’t translate easily, causing confusion – “There ya go!” he casually comments. "I go where?” she asks quizzically. And she wonders why he always wants her to “forget about it” and says that with such animation. They test each other’s patience and sadly, ours. However, at its core, there is a good, romantic heart beating there.
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Does Spellbound seem longer, leaden and lugubrious because the music accompanying the singers is pre-recorded? How do I feel about any show that opts for the canned karaoke route, taking the interactive, in-the-moment and possibilities away from players and audience? In a word, ugh. In the beginning, the balance was so off that it overwhelmed the voices and the lyrics. At La MaMa’s space, it sounded muddy and/or tinny and made the whole endeavor seem less immediate. This big and rambling tale of a girl from another century who wants to be a grand wizard and won’t take no for an answer is billed as an entertainment for all ages. If the youngsters can follow the plot and power struggles and time traveling, more power to them. Who is pursuing whom and what? Who is immortal and who used to be? Who’s alive? Who’s dead? Who cares? Just thought I’d ask. In a play that misguidedly, or myth-guidedly, mixes Grand Wizards and Grand Ideals with fart jokes, it’s a cumbersome, heavy-handed and overall very, very, very earnest affair. With a cast of 18, there are characters such as a goblin, an elf, a witch and a dwarf who ate his own face. That’s right.
it was, and Christian De Gré, one of the producers. Those who like “adventure” and plot twists above and beyond everything are probably the best audience here, and a bigger budget allowing grand production values and special effects might dress things up nicely for those who are happily distracted by that. The messages are admirable, if overly familiar, and previously stated in song in other musicals-with-a-message: You’ll hear forcefully sung lyrics like, "Believe in your heart, girl/ You must be strong/ You are the one..." It felt turgid and bland to me far too often and did not engage me, especially with the aforementioned corners cut. This being said, it must be said that the cast of darkly draped druids and numerous others performed with much commitment and dedication, especially the wizard-wannabe lead, Ashley C. Williams, who is involved in many of the musical numbers. But a lot more magic is needed to make this work.| < Prev | Next > |
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