Heathers: The Musical, on Roku Channel

Seriously, Gen X really did have to work harder than subsequent generations. For instance, our high school mean girls had to bully fellow students without the help of social media. Just imagine Michael Lehmann’s 1988 cult favorite Heathers with Instagram and TikTok. Wisely, the stage musical adaptation never tries to update anything. It doesn’t need to, because the black comedy still feels contemporary. The tunes composed by Laurence O’Keefe and Kevin Murphy are also pretty rousing, as viewers can hear during the stage performance (or edited performances) Andy Fickman captures on film in Heathers: The Musical, which premieres tomorrow on the Roku Channel.

Heathers: The Musical had regional and Off-Broadway runs here, but the original London production made it to the West End, where it was recently revived. This is that production. As you might remember, Veronica Sawyer (the Winona Ryder character) is somewhat shy, but she shrewdly takes advantage of an opportunity to ingratiate herself with the trio of “Heathers” who stand atop the school’s social food chain. Heather Chandler is the meanest of the lot. However, the freshly transferred Jason “J.D.” Dean (still Christian Slater’s best role) is not intimidated by her or the two dumb jocks she uses as her enforcers.

There are serious sparks flaring between Sawyer and Dean, but that threatens to snuff out her sudden popularity. After defying Chandler, Sawyer trundles to the head Heather’s house to make a groveling apology, but instead, she and Dean sort-of kind-of accidentally kill her. When they successfully make it look like suicide, they ironically turn her into an After School Special-style martyr. Additional bodies will follow.

O’Keefe & Murphy, who also wrote the stage-book, stay quite faithful to the original film, but they somewhat bulk up the role of Martha Dunnstock, Sawyer’s unfortunately overweight childhood friend, which works out quite well, especially given Mhairi Angus’s nice featured performance. Frankly, the sets are more colorful than you probably remember the film looking, while the choreography is appealingly upbeat and energetic, in a Fame-ish kind of way.

Of course, the show requires a strong Sawyer, which Alisa Davidson supplies. Her voice is impressive and she has a nice facility for comic timing. Frankly, she might have better chemistry with Simon Gordon playing Dean than Ryder and Slater had. Their initial courtship sequences are weirdly sweet and endearing, before it all descends into macabre chaos. After Sawyer, the most important character is probably her nemesis, Chandler, whom Maddison Firth portrays with entertainingly nasty flare.

Time is Running Out for Bonnie & Clyde

It was still tough, but New York offered comparatively more opportunities during the Great Depression (as opposed to the current lousy one), thanks to the skyscraper building boom. In contrast, West Dallas was pretty much dust bowl bleak. However, two tempestuous lovers rose up from this hardscrabble environment to become folk heroes in their own time. Forever immortalized in Arthur Penn’s 1967 film, the more historically accurate life story of the bank-robbing duo has been set to music. However, if you want to see Bonnie & Clyde (promo here) on Broadway you had better move fast. It closes this Friday at the Gerald Schoenfeld Theatre.

West Dallas was sort of the end of the line in the 1930’s. It was where Clyde Chestnut Barrow’s family drifted into a squatter’s camp after losing their sharecropping work. Constantly in trouble with the law, the young Barrow grew up idolizing Billy the Kid. Bonnie Elizabeth Parker saw herself as the next Clara Bow, but she would settle for anything but average.

Barrow and his brother Buck were already fugitive escapees when he first meets Parker. The Brothers Barrow would soon be back in the slammer, with Buck voluntarily turning himself in and Clyde returning the hard way. In fact, this prison stretch would change everything for the famous Barrow, turning him into a killer, even before Parker aided and abetted his escape. At that point, the die is essentially cast for the gangster-lovers, but they intend to go out in style.

Is there anything as romantic as a hail of bullets? Shrewdly, book writer Ivan Menchell puts it up top, telling their story in flashback form in a way that seems almost empowering, as though Bonnie and Clyde are going out on their own terms. Indeed, B&C is pretty hot for Broadway, aside from the thinly veiled prison rape references, which are a real mood killer. They certainly sway audience sympathies towards Barrow though.

It is rather surprising drama critics did not more fully embrace B&C, considering how easy it would be to dub it the Occupy West Dallas musical. Clearly tapping into the Steinbeckian Depression era mythos, it even employs iconic Dorothea Lange photos as part of its backdrop image projections.

If you want a lesson in economic history, you should probably not look for it in a Broadway theater. In truth, one of the great distractions of B&C is that it never asks what ultimately happens to the many mom & pop general stores Barrow hold-up. On the other hand, if you are coming for the music, Frank Wildhorn’s tunes are quite strong, deftly integrating elements of era-appropriate Gospel, blues and roots music, while staying within the comfort zone of Broadway performers. Don Black’s lyrics are also sharp and frequently loaded with smart historical references. Their words and music are well served by some inventive staging, with several tunes cleverly evolving into unexpected duets.

It is also surprising that B&C could not generate more heat from the presence of lead actress Laura Osnes as the “ravishing redhead.” The winner of the NBC reality show You’re the One that I Want that produced the cast of the most recent Grease revival, she is one of the few pure theater performers who can claim a national following. She is also quite good in the part, displaying a rich voice and scorching Maggie the Cat-like stage presence. Although not as magnetic, Jeremy Jordan has the right fierce intensity to carry off Barrow and also has pretty strong chops as well.

It is a shame B&C is closing, because it is a fine star vehicle for Osnes and it employs some very stylistically flexible musicians in the pit, who, led by musical director Jason Howland, really have a spring in their step. Despite its relatively short stage life there will be a cast album forthcoming and a production is scheduled to open in Tokyo next month, so there will be a few more chapters for the show. Recommended for those who like a bit of blues and twang in their book musicals, Bonnie & Clyde runs through Friday (12/30) on Broadway at the Gerald Schoenfeld.

(Photo: Nathan Johnson)

Frigid ’11: My Pal, Izzy

Though his roots were humble, young Russian-Jewish immigrant Israel Baline would eventually represent the American experience through music better than nearly any other songwriter, present, past, or future. Of course, the man now remembered as Irving Berlin for his enduring classics like “God Bless America,” “Blue Skies,” and “White Christmas” had to start somewhere. In the persona of Rebecca Rosenstein, a not-quite star of Vaudeville and supposed neighborhood acquaintance of the prodigious popular composer, Melanie Gall fashions a cabaret-style memory play out of Berlin’s rarely performed early Tin Pan Alley songbook in My Pal, Izzy: the Early Life and Music of Irving Berlin, which is currently running as part of the 2011 Frigid Festival, featuring thirty independents productions, each no longer than an hour.

Of course, there is a reason why Berlin’s pre-“Alexander’s Ragtime Band” songs are so rarely performed. Primarily, it is a function of changing tastes. Berlin started out trying to give the people what they wanted, succeeding more than most. However, even Gall in the guise of Rosenstein apologizes to an extent for his first published work of juvenilia, “Marie from Sunny Italy.” Still, you have certainly heard worse.

True to the era, many of Gall’s selections are more or less novelty songs, but that does not mean they are not interesting as musical ornaments of an era gone by. Gall seems to understand this, performing them straight, but adding considerable dramatic flair where she can. She channels her inner Mae West for “If You Don’t Want These Peaches” (you know about “peaches,” right?) and enjoys the political incorrectness (circa 1909) of “My Wife’s Gone to the Country.”

Though Gall’s renditions are often somewhat operatic (not surprisingly, given her background), it is frankly in keeping with the expectations of early 1900’s music hall audiences. In fact, she finds real depth in “When I Lost You” and delivers quite a rousing closer in “That Dying Rag,” suggesting at least two of Berlin’s earliest might potentially deserve a revival apart from the context of a tribute show like Izzy. She is ably accompanied by John Murphy, who is unfortunately stuck with a keyboard (it obviously clashes with the 1916 vibe, but the Kraine is a small space, so there’s probably no way around it).

Izzy is a well-conceived exploration of the Great American Songbook, staking out some unclaimed musical territory that works far better than one might expect. Indeed, it would be fascinating to hear her recast some of these tunes with contemporary arrangements sometime in the future. Recommended for lovers and students of American song, Izzy runs again this coming Wednesday (3/2), Thursday (3/3), and Saturday (3/5) at the Kraine Theater in New York’s East Village, not too far from Berlin’s boyhood Lower Eastside neighborhood.

(Photo: Karen Young)

NYMF ’10: Trav’lin the Musical

Everybody recorded J.C. Johnson’s songs, most notably including Bessie Smith, Ethel Waters, Billie Holiday, and Ella Fitzgerald, yet his name has largely been forgotten, even among passionate devotees of the Great American Songbook. However, Johnson’s stories of jazz and Harlem nightlife made a strong impression on the young ears of Gary Holmes, eventually inspiring Trav’lin the Musical, whose book he co-wrote with Allen Schapiro. Years in development, Trav’lin finally graces New York stages as part of the 2010 NY Musical Theatre Festival in a limited run that ends tonight.

As the “unofficial mayor of 132nd Street,” Deacon George keeps an eye on his neighborhood. Naturally, he notices each new arrival, especially one that looks eerily similarly to Billie, his old flame from New Orleans. Now calling herself Ethel from Mississippi, Billie prefers not to reveal herself just yet, even as she finds herself romantically drawn to George once again.

No longer working on a Pullman Car, George has settled down into his community peacemaker role. Now, it is his nursing student niece Ella who is seeing a traveling man, straight-laced Nelson, a Bible salesman. He used to have eyes for Ros, the neighborhood beautician, but she remained true to her own traveling man, even if the smooth operating Archie was not always true to her. As Billie and Ros mentor the younger Ella their own romances fizzle and flair to the music of J.C. Johnson.

Johnson often wrote on love and longing, leaving many evocative standards and should-be-standards to chose from, including probably his best known tune “Trav’lin (All Alone),” a real highlight of the show performed as an epistolary dialogue between George and Billie/Ethel. However, the biggest showstopper has to be the low down “Empty Bed Blues” performed with verve and sass by Brenda Braxton channeling Bessie Smith as Billie.

Indeed, it is not surprising Johnson’s songbook lends itself so well to musical theater, since he often wrote for the stage, including The Jazz Train, a survey of popular African American music, with each train representing a particular period. (Though not widely seen in America, it was something of a sensation in Europe at the time and its cast album has since been reissued by Sepia, the British collector’s label.) A nice showcase for Johnson’s music, Holmes and Shapiro also pay tribute to his great collaborators through their characters’ names—Ella, Billie, and Ethel being readily apparent, while George is a tip of the cap to vaudeville lyricist George A. Whiting.

Trav’lin has a great cast and a strong four piece combo backing them up on-stage. Multi-reed player Marc Phaneuf has a distinctly bluesy sound on clarinet that sets the scene quite effectively. Musical director John DiPinto is also a strong player, but one wishes they could have shoehorned an upright piano into the theater for him, because music of this era never sounds quite right on a keyboard. Still, rhythm section mates Brian Brake and Benjamin Brown, on drums and bass respectively, set a swinging tempo that the cast definitely responds to. All six performers have strong voices, but Brenda Braxton and Doug Eskew arguably shine the brightest as Billie and George, the older experienced couple. While she excels in the Bessie Smith number, he nicely expresses the wistful nostalgia of “Louisiana,” which might have been Johnson’s most recognizable song in his day.

Cleverly staged by director Paul Stancato, Trav’lin feels like a bigger show than the limited space of the TBG stage would otherwise allow. An endearingly old-fashioned romance set to some swinging sounds, Trav’lin is faithful in spirit to the music that inspired it. Enthusiastically recommended, it runs once more under the auspices of NYMF, tonight (4:30), but hopefully it will soon return in some form for a longer run.

Memphis on Broadway

The lily white Huey Calhoun has his faults, but he is not trying to appropriate the music of Memphis’s rhythm & blues musicians. While plenty of other people in the music business will be only too willing to do so, all Calhoun wants to steal is the heart of Felicia, a Beale Street diva. In late 1950’s-early 1960’s Memphis, that just cannot happen. At least he can love the music in Memphis, a dynamic new book musical now running on Broadway.

Calhoun is one of the few white residents of Memphis who is either gutsy or innocent enough to frequent the African American clubs on Beale Street. While his presence makes club owner Delray understandably uneasy, everyone generally accepts the goofy kid because of his obvious affinity for their music. A big talker, he promises to get Delray’s sister Felicia on a major Memphis radio station. Commandeering the broadcast booth of the station owned by the upright and uptight Mr. Simmons, Calhoun lights up the proverbial phone lines spinning R&B for appreciative white teenagers. Suddenly, Calhoun has a steady job.

For a while, Calhoun actually has it all, including a relationship with Felicia. Yet he just does not understand how things really work in Memphis, whereas Felicia is all too aware of reality. Although their love might be impossible in that specific time and place, their music is sound of the future and it is catchy indeed.

Though the score by David Bryan (best known as a member of Bon Jovi, but also the composer of the Toxic Avenger musical) is a bit more orchestrated and well, Broadway-sounding than the genuine R&B and rock & roll of the period, it really delivers the goods. “Someday,” Felicia’s first hit in the context of the show, really does sound like it could have been a chart-topper, perhaps for Etta James. Ironically, one of the show’s highlight comes from Derrick Baskin as the mostly silent Gator, who blows everyone away with “Say a Prayer,” the riveting first act closer. However, the standout song is arguably Calhoun’s feature, “Memphis Lives in Me.” It is actually a twofer: musically it is a showstopper, but it also explains Calhoun’s character better than any of the previous dialogue. It would not be surprising if the city of Memphis adopted as their unofficial anthem in the near future.

True, Joe DiPietro’s book is not exactly the most original treatment of themes and issues that drive Memphis. Of course, clichés become clichés because they work, and audiences will most likely find themselves charmed by Memphis’s likable and vocally talented leads. Frankly, Chad Kimball’s weird affected, nasally accent does not sound at all like Memphis, but his energy and powerful singing voice more than compensates. Montego Glover takes a star-making turn as Felicia, displaying dramatic poise and powerhouse vocal chops. In supporting roles as Calhoun’s Beale Street friends, Baskin and James Monroe Iglehart also make a strong musical impression.

Memphis boasts far more memorable songs than most of its Broadway competition, which is the ultimate measure of a musical. Slickly produced and tightly paced, Memphis looks great and sounds soulful. Now running at the Shubert Theatre, it is a spirited show, definitely recommended for R&B listeners and book musical patrons.

Fringe ’09: Fall of the House of Usher

Madness, consumption, and premature burial are familiar topics to Poe scholars, but not typical musical theater motifs. However, FringeNYC is now officially underway, offering patrons an opportunity to see a plethora of fresh new shows, including Brent Cirves’s musical adaptation of Edgar Allan Poe’s The Fall of the House of Usher.

In addition to the ill-fated Roderick and Madeline Usher, Annabel Lee, the beautiful subject of Poe’s final poem who indeed died tragically young, also plays an important role in Cirves’s book. She is now part of the reclusive Usher household—Roderick’s common law wife to be exact. Though she charms their visitor, one William Reed, a wayfaring musician Roderick befriended, her constitution is alarmingly weak.

Still, in a clear departure from the source story, the House of Usher initially appears to be a reasonably healthy environment, as recalled in flashbacks by Reed on the anniversary of those fateful events. Annabel Lee and the Usher siblings all seem like friendly, musically talented young people. Yet when the poetically foretold tragedies start to strike, the Usher family’s deep psychological pathologies begin to manifest themselves.

Despite taking liberties with the Usher text, Cirves’s clever book should intrigue Poe fans, compellingly integrating Annabel Lee, both as a character and setting elements of the classic poem to music. Indeed, the frequently recurring “Annabel Lee” motif is quite haunting, in a bittersweet way. Cirves’s original lyrics are also quite memorable, evoking the fleetingness of love and beauty which preoccupied Poe’s verse. They are effectively complimented by Mike Johnson’s music, suggesting the sort of love ballads and folk shanties that would be the stock-in-trade of an itinerant 1830’s minstrel, like Reed. He also contributes some unsettling avant-gardish classical pieces to suggest the hubris and madness of Roderick Usher.

All four cast principles have pleasing voices which sound well suited to the Poe-inspired lyrics. Carolyn and Mary Myers give particularly impressive vocal turns as Annabel Lee and Madeline Usher, respectively. As Reed, Mark Rascati smoothly handles the expository duties and also displays a nice touch on the acoustic guitar. They are accompanied by a sympathetic pit band, including pianist Simon Sun and flutist Rachelle Hunt, who capably synch the mimed on-stage performances.

Usher is a smartly conceived mélange of the Poe canon that is surprisingly engaging on an emotional level. Though the gothic spirit of the story remains, becoming especially pronounced in the second act, it is the elegiac tone of Poe’s poem that truly predominates in this staging. It is one of the more satisfying adaptations of classic genre fiction to be produced on the New York stage in recent months. Now open, it runs at the Connelly Theater through August 19th as part of Fringe Fest.

(Photo: Michael Johnson)

On-Stage: The Elephant Man—The Musical

Oddly enough, Joseph Merrick (a.k.a. John Merrick, The Elephant Man) has become bizarrely topical recently, as Michael Jackson’s death renewed speculation regarding rumors the King of Pop tried to buy Merrick’s bones from the Royal London Hospital. Evidently, Merrick and Jackson were a lot alike. Both were just lonely song-and-dance men desperately seeking audience approval. At least that is the unorthodox depiction of Merrick presented in No. 11 Productions’ mounting of Jeff Hylton and Tim Werenko’s book musical farce, The Elephant Man—The Musical, now playing on the @Seaport stage.

Much like David Lynch’s film and the actual historical record, Merrick goes from being a sideshow attraction to the charge of a well-known London physician in Hylton and Werenko’s book. However, in this musical version, he finds himself living with the disgraced Dr. James Lipscomb, a specialist in genetic deformity and author of naughty medical romances.

Slowly but surely, Merrick comes out of his shell thanks to the influence of Jessica Curvey, Lipscomb’s aptly named platonic girlfriend, and the memoirs of great Victorian thespians, like William Shatner. In fact, this is a kinder, gentler Elephant Man, taking Merrick all the way to Broadway as the star of his own show.

Clearly, Elephant does not take itself too seriously, but Hylton and Werenko’s book holds up to a cursory googling (aside from the obviously comedic fabulations). As the lyricist, Hylton deserves a lot of credit just for rhyming neurofibromatosis (to the melody of “Moses Supposes, no less). Indeed, the show has a lot of love for musical theater, taking inspiration from tunes like “Broadway” and even “Jesus Christ Superstar.”

Liberally quoting from other sources, co-composers Paul Jones and Hylton (again) have penned quite a snappy, entertaining score. The memorable lyrics are performed with zest by a game cast, accompanied by musical director Rebecca Greenstein and drummer Daniel Miranda. Roger Mulligan and particularly Haley Greenstein show strong vocal chops as Merrick and Curvey, respectively. Overall, the four person cast, also including Ira Sargent as Lipscomb and Ryan Emmons in the dual roles of sideshow barker Horace Augsquatch and Broadway impresario Presby Raincoat, earn considerable props for their energetic performance of Simon Gunner’s wonderfully eccentric choreography. Frankly, the musical performances of this outrageous send-up well exceed expectations.

The humor of Elephant is broad and frequently ribald. Those who look for things to be offended by will have no trouble finding them in this show. However, it is a surprisingly upbeat, breezy affair that delights in amusing its audiences as much as its earnest protagonist. It runs through July 26th down at the 210 Front Street @Seaport performance space.

On-Stage: Cocktails at the Centre of the Earth

Welcome to the future promised to us in 1940’s science fiction serials. Now have a drink. You are probably going to need it, because bars have a habit of exploding in Simon Astor’s outrageous musical farce Cocktails at the Centre of the Earth, now playing a limited engagement at the Producer’s Club’s Royal Theatre.

The social structure of Cocktails is much like that of Fritz Lang’s Metropolis, where the rich revel in the skies and the drones toils below. In this brave new steampunky world of jetpacks and zeppelins, the workers pour the drinks, and the upper class gets hammered. It is all powered by a special rocket fuel refined from Egyptian mummies, a process that has greatly enriched the Moutarde family.

Cocktails begins its futuristic bar crawl in the terrestrial Albion Club. Two social climbers are putting the moves on the Moutardes, but since they accidentally fell in love with each other, their hearts really are not in it. Before long, the partiers are off to the next exclusive club, located high a flying airship. Then things start getting outlandish, culminating in the Omphalos Club at the center of the Earth.

It all comes accompanied by songs, which are surprisingly strong given Astor’s eccentric lyrics. As Sir Reginald Rakehell, he performs the surreal “Synthesia,” while composer Richard Grant dons the persona of the cowboy singer-songwriter Murray Eel for “Coral Corral.” Borts Minorts also contributes music and lyrics for the title tune, which he fearlessly performs in an uncomfortable looking skin-tight bodysuit, with some truly over-the-top choreography. The standout performance though, might well be Erin Blair O’Malley’s rendition of “The Woman from the Island,” as Paravion Concord, the lesbian rocketeer-chanteuse.

Although it is scripted show, Cocktails has the energy and comedic sensibility of an improv comedy revue. Sometimes the jokes are funny and sometimes they are groaners. Some of the material is a bit “naughty,” but never really explicit. Throughout Cocktails, Astor throws in enough genre tropes to satisfy sci-fi fans looking for an entertaining stage spoof. In fact, the android Daniel Engine and his somewhat mad creator Gepetta Odenkirk (played by Mordecai Knode and Lois F., respectively), greatly resemble characters in Mac Rogers’ Universal Robots, the philosophically challenging reimaging of Karel Čapek’s R.U.R., which ran downtown earlier this year.

To adapt Cocktails as a special effects-laded movie would be prohibitively expensive, but Astor and director Greg LoProto make do with a sparse set of a few cabaret tables and chairs. Its totally DIY sci-fi horseplay, but it frequently works, thanks to a game cast that obviously enjoys the on-stage lunacy. It runs through Sunday (7/12) at the Royal.

Planet Connections: Wagon Wheel

The setting is a gypsy camp in late 1940’s Eastern Europe. That means all the inhabitants are survivors: Roma who somehow endured or otherwise eluded the horrors of the Holocaust. Of course, bigotry and discrimination persisted for the Roma and Sinti people, even after the shocking events of World War II were widely acknowledged. Yet, the most immediate challenge for one group of Roma is a question of succession in Wagon Wheel, a stirring new musical playing as part of the Planet Connections Theatre Festivity.

Setting the scene is our sometimes narrator, Bohdan, the clan’s carefree cantor. After a smartly written prelude, he explains the dynamics within his group. Tomas is their tribal leader, the Rom baro. His eldest son Zjohai is his heir apparent and the youngest son Laszo is the easy-going spare. However, Tomas’s untimely death will reveal a secret that will have profound repercussions on the tribe.

While Wagon’s Lear-like story of sibling rivalry is powerful stuff, future productions might consider reducing the resulting body count. It is hard to believe the tribe could allow matters to degenerate so precipitously into violence, given how strongly their will to survive would have recently been tested. To an extent, it also feeds into unfortunate violent criminal stereotypes of the Roma. However, several death scenes lead into some powerfully staged posthumous dance sequences.

In fact, all of the musical numbers are very entertaining, particularly the flag-waving opening, which does a nice job of introducing the cast and establishing the wheel metaphor of the Roma’s nomadic life and their perseverance as a people in the face of adversity. Featuring a trio of piano, drums, and guitar (with occasional violin) Wagon’s score, composed by Erato Kremmyda, certainly has a pronounced gypsy influence, but it does not rigidly conform to Roma musical styles. While one might quibble here and there with Robin Sandusky’s book, her lyrics are quite impressive, effectively distilling the essence of the Roma experience.

The music is also well-served by an able cast and dance corps, particularly Sam Pinkleton who brings both a mischievous charm and a sense of poignancy to Bohdan, Wagon’s troubadour guide. Ani Neimann also brings notable stage charisma and down-to-earth credibility to the role of Lilika, a relatively new member of the tribe who becomes an additional point of contention between the brothers.

Wagon deserves tremendous credit for putting the spotlight on a historical maligned community. It is also very rewarding musically. As part of the Planet Connections Festivity’s charitable program, all proceeds from Wagon will be donated to the St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital, an eminently worthy cause. It runs at the Robert Moss Theater through June 27th.

soloNOVA: Piccola Cosi

Italians have always been quite hospitable to American expat jazz musicians, perhaps most notably with Chet Baker in the 1960’s (at least before jailing him on drug charges). The fragile romanticism of “My Funny Valentine,” a standard closely associated with Baker, would indeed be a fitting trial-by-fire for an American neophyte jazz vocalist. Aja Nisenson relates that fateful debut live performance, as well as the men and music she encountered in the Bologna jazz scene, with words and music in Piccola Cosi, which opened last night at the DR-2 Theatre as part of the soloNOVA Arts Festival of solo shows.

Unlike other soloNOVA selections, Nisenson has back-up on-stage, in the form of her able jazz trio, led by director Brian Dilg on keyboards, with Joe Nagle on drums and Pete O’Connell on bass. Of course, the only talking they do is through their instruments, which is appropriate since music plays such an important role in Nisenson’s story.

As she presents herself, Nisenson arrived in Italy a shy, inexperienced college student, who had performed opera and musical theater, but never jazz—at least not in front of a live audience. Her first time tackling a jazz standard is a bit of an adventure, as one might expect, but fortunately the piano-player leading the band is indulgent. After a false start, Nisenson demonstrates why she set out on her jazz excursion. It turns out she really has quite a voice, and even shows some scat chops she did not know she had, when cajoled into it by the encouraging band leader.

As Nisenson explains, Italy was a liberating environment for her. She claims she would not have had the nerve to sit-in with an American group, but in Italy everyone seems more inviting, particularly the men. Much of the show involves Nisenson’s attempts to deflect the advances of several prospective Italian lovers, with varying degrees of success. Again, the attractive Nisenson explains she always perceived herself as a geeky sneaker-wearing kid, but in Bologna, she had more romantic attention than she really wanted.

While the roster of would-be suitors sort of blend together for the audience, Nisenson infuses Piccola with a hip jazz sensibility that suggests she really does know of what she speaks. She cleverly integrates classic standards like “Take the A Train,” “Just Friends,” and “I’m Through with Love” into the show to help advance her story. As a crowd pleasing bonus, she even ends with a swinging “Mambo Italiano.”

Nisenson has a charismatic stage presence and legitimate vocal talent. Each standard she performed on opening night (even those intended for comic effect) earned a hearty round of applause. Combining jazz, musical theater, and solo performance, Piccola is an entertaining night of hybrid-theater. It runs at the DR-2 through May 30th, concluding the 6th annual soloNOVA fest.

Broadway In The Heights

Welcome to Upper Manhattan—some might call it the barrio. Broadway has not gotten up around here too often since West Side Story. However, In the Heights, composer-lyricist Lin-Manuel Miranda’s affectionate slice-of-life musical set on a Washington Heights street corner, has none of the gang wars of the earlier Bernstein musical, focusing instead on the daily struggles of its characters. Now, after a long, circuitous Off-Broadway route, Heights finally opened on Broadway last night at the Richard Rodgers Theatre.

For out-of-towners, Washington Heights is a neighborhood in Manhattan, above 155th Street and below Inwood on the Island’s tip. It currently has a largely Hispanic demographic breakdown, so Heights appropriately boasts a very strong salsa and meringue flavored score, joining Passing Strange in an attempt to broaden Broadway’s musical palette.

Miranda plays Usnavi, the shy Dominican everyman bodega owner who knows everyone in the neighborhood and how they take their morning coffee. Many of Miranda’s numbers incorporate a sort of half rapping, half singing delivery that deftly handles a lot of the exposition. He also makes shrewd allusions to Ellington’s “Take the A Train” and Cole Porter.

This show just would not work if its lead did not exude an earnest likeability. Fortunately, Miranda’s Usnavi makes for a strong rooting interest as he deals with his undisciplined cousin Sonny and his unrequited love for the impossibly long-legged Vanessa, played by Karen Olivo (there is a reason she never has to pay for coffee).

The book by Quiara Allegria Hudes is not perfect, but it keeps the audience caring about the characters. Actually, the cleverest lines of Heights, like the explanation of Usnavi’s unlikely name, often come embedded in songs, in a way that makes it difficult to determine if book writer or songwriter deserve the credit.

The matriarch and moral center of the neighborhood is Usnavi’s Cuban “grandmother” Claudia, played touchingly by Olga Merediz, who one way or another figures in some of Heights’ most moving numbers, including “Paciencia y Fe (Patience and Faith).” It vividly describes her past life in Havana as well as her family’s sudden flight, which though not explained in song, obviously involves a certain bearded dictator.

While there are moving moments in the various subplots, the music is what really stands out in Heights. “96,000” is a rousing show-stopper for the entire cast and “The Club/Fireworks” is a well staged conclusion to the first act. Even Eliseo Roman in a small role as a street vendor competing with Mister Softee gets a big hand for “Piragua.”

Miranda’s Latin music is infectious and the band sounds great throughout. It includes a number of jazz musicians (or at least musicians with jazz experience), including: trombonists Joseph Fieldler and Ryan Keberle, trumpeter Raul Agraz, Kristy Norter on reeds, percussionist Andres Patrick Ferero, and bassist Irio O’Farrill. Together they contribute enormously to the show’s success.

One of the questions hanging over Heights is whether or not this corner is a neighborhood or simply a way-station. It is hard to ignore the fact that the characters never express a sense of American identity. Rather it is their roots in DR or PR that define them. Perhaps Usnavi takes a step towards answering this question in the nicely drawn conclusion. Yet to its credit, Heights values things like family, hard work, education, sacrifice, music, and yes, community.

Ultimately though, the music of Heights defines the show—it is probably the best original score to grace Broadway stages in years. Together with the charisma of its lead, it provides a fresh theater experience, which should give Heights a long, successful run.

Stew’s Rock Musical: Passing Strange

The image of a journeyman musician carrying a guitar down that lonesome road still has resonance in our collective unconscious. That archetype is part of what is at work in Passing Strange, a new rock ‘n’ roll musical (no joke), which opened at the Belasco tonight, after a successful Off-Broadway run at the Public last year.

Strange is the semi-autobiographical creation of the single-named Stew (at one time Mark Stewart), the show’s narrator, guitarist, bandleader, book and lyric writer, and co-composer/co-orchestrator with bassist Heidi Rodewald. Although Stew has an understudy listed in the program, it is difficult to imagine the show without him driving the band, and that band is truly front-and-center in Strange. There is something aesthetically pleasing about seeing the instruments prominently up on stage when you enter the theater. (Although Stew has not had much to say about other musicals in interviews, appropriately he did tell the NY Times Magazine he “loved Chicago,” another show with the band up out of the pit and visible on the stage.)

The story is basically a variation on the on-the-road tale. The simply named Youth, feeling constricted by his lower middle class Los Angeles upbringing, sets out on a journey to find “the real.” Yet it is not clear whether the aspiring songwriter really wants to find it, preferring the excesses of a bohemian lifestyle in Amsterdam and the hipster pretensions of Berlin. His expatriate voyage unfolds on an austere stage amid Stew’s band and a few plain chairs, augmented by the flash of a light wall designed by Kevin Adams and David Korins, which definitely heightens the rock ‘n’ roll ambiance.

It might be a simple story, but Stew has penned some sharp, incisive lines. At times the book is quite clever, as when the Youth has an epiphany regarding the connection between the African-American Church and rock music (both come from a blues source, feature call-and-response and so forth.). It also savagely satirizes the self-important leftist performance art of the Berliners. However, there was about one too many of those performance art numbers, as the Berlin interlude drags a little.

Stew’s book challenges the audience’s expectations in shrewd ways, frankly addressing issues of personal identity, and authenticity in race, sex, and art (hence the confusing title). When the Youth adopts a militant Black Power persona to impress the Berlin artists’ collective, his role-playing is undercut by Stew’s narration: “Nobody in this play knows what it’s like to hustle for dimes on the mean streets of South Central.” Ultimately, it casts a critical eye on the Youth’s expatriate wanderings, perhaps suggesting he may have missed “the real” he had been looking for all along by turning his back on his home and mother.

Daniel Breaker is convincing enough as the somewhat immature Youth, and Eisa Davis gives a powerful performance as his mother, but it is really Stew’s show. Together with Rodewald, Christian Gibbs on drums, and Jon Spurney and Christian Cassan both doubling on guitar and keyboards, they rock the house, far more than previous so-called “rock musicals.” Their performances definitely sound in-the-moment, with even some improvisation reflecting the evening’s vibe. Over all, it is a strong score featuring two standout showstoppers in “Amsterdam” and “Keys” as well as effective recurring riffs like, “just when it was starting to feel real,” which tie the music and drama together nicely.

It is great to see and hear something legitimately new on Broadway. While the second act does not quite have the zip of the first, it does deliver some unexpected honesty, which is always worth seeing on stage. Passing Strange might not exactly be a Disney show—remember a good part of the first act takes place in the Amsterdam where the expats hang—but it has real energy. The music of Stew and Rodewald could actually produce Broadway’s first legitimate breakout chart hit in years. It is a brisk change of pace from the old warhorses anchored in many Broadway theaters that deserves a strong run.

Celia the Musical

The recent track record of Broadway jukebox musicals has been mixed, from the highly successful Jersey Boys to the short-lived Ring of Fire. Although New World Stages technically qualifies as Off-Broadway, it is very Broadway-like in the commercial nature of its productions. Their new entry into jukebox musical market, Celia: the Life and Music of Celia Cruz, which opened the 26th, succeeds largely due to its honesty and its faithfulness to her music.

Singing the songs of Cruz is Xiomara Laugart, and she is a natural fit for the role. Clearly, she can identify with the dramatic events of Cruz’s life, having, as the NY Daily News reports: “defected to the U.S. almost a decade ago without a penny in her pocket or a command of the English language, yet managed to resume her career and build a new life.” Laugart has a strong voice and demonstrates an affinity for the repertoire, including most of the favorite hits from Cruz’s career, including: “Quimbara,” “Guantanamera,” and “Yo Viviré (I Will Survive)”. She really is a powerful vocalist who wins over the audience immediately.

Laugart is supported by a fantastic Latin combo, seated on stage Chicago-style, up from the pit. They even get a wardrobe change during intermission, from tuxedos appropriate to the pre-revolutionary clubs of Havana, to seventies style flora prints.

Led by Isidro Infante, a veteran of bands led by Cruz, Tito Puente, and Machito, the Celia combo sounds like a much larger group than their seven pieces. As the orchestrator and musical director, he gets the music right. Percussionists Luisito and Robert Quintero, who have recorded with the Caribbean Jazz Project, keep a strong rhythmic pulse going. At one point, Luisito Quintero channels Tito Puente, showing off the drumstick-around-the-head orison. Unfortunately, Nelson Gonzalez’s tres is largely overwhelmed in the mix, as he has a very tasteful, but all too brief solo that left one wanting to hear more.

The drama is largely supplied by Modesto Lacén as Cruz’s widower husband Pedro Knight, telling his nurse (recording artist Pedro Capó) about life with his beloved Celia. It is basically a narrative framing device to keep the musical numbers in context, but Lacén’s Knight is still touching at times. Capó has some impressive numbers, and a few effective dramatic moments with Lacén, as well. Also, Wilson Mendieta’s depiction of Johnny Pacheco and his exuberant conducting style should amuse salsa fans.

To its credit, Celia the musical deals with the realities of the Castro regime and Cruz’s resulting exile directly and forthrightly. The book by Carmen Rivera & Candido Tirado makes it clear there would be no artistic freedom in Cuba after 1959. We see the corruption and arbitrary abuses of power from party bureaucrats and the suffering inflicted on musicians like Cruz and Knight. In one of the musical’s heaviest dramatic episodes, Celia portrays the pain Cruz felt when she was unable to attend her mother’s funeral due to Castro’s banishment decree.

Celia is well staged, nicely capturing the excitement of major events like the Fania All-Stars concert at Yankee Stadium. It deftly handles the trials of Cruz’s life, without dampening the joy of the music. There are only two English language performances each week—Saturdays at 5:00 and Sundays at 7:00. I attended the Saturday show, and if it representative of other shows, one can expect to feel a real collective spirit in an audience eager to express its love for Cruz (New World Stages also sells Sangria in the theater, which does not hurt the good vibe). Celia is an entertaining show that moves along at a good clip and features a great musical performance by Laugart in the title role. Her fans won’t be disappointed, and the music of Celia Cruz should win over anyone with open ears. (Read Val's reaction and his personal reflections on Celia Cruz here.)