50. UNLOCK’D
In 1712 Alexander Pope wrote a mock-heroic narrative poem, “The Rape of the Lock,”
published in expanded form in 1717, in which he satirically commented on a true
event. This was a dispute that arose between the families of one Lord Petre and
the woman he loved, Arabella Fermor, when, without asking, he snipped a lock of
her hair. Pope’s poem was written in the hope it would “comically merge the
two” families by noting how silly the whole thing was, although he also underlined
contemporary attitudes on women’s place as decorative accessories in a
patriarchal society. Arabella, renamed Belinda, is surrounded by virginal
“sylphs,” parodized versions of the gods of goddesses of epic poetry, whose
mission is to protect Belinda (especially her hair) from inappropriate advances. Pope’s
poem is the chief inspiration for UNLOCK’ED, the new musical at the Duke, directed
and choreographed by Marlo Hunter, and presented by the Prospect Theatre
Company.
The plot circles around the romantic
aspirations of dashing Roderick Shearing, the Baron of Windsorloch (Sydney
James Harcourt); his attractively nerdy, book-obsessed brother, Edwin (A.J.
Shively); Belinda (Jillian Gottlieb), an early 18th-century version
of the dumb blonde; and her more practically-minded, redheaded stepsister,
Clarissa (Jennifer Blood), who often narrates the action in rhymed verse. There
is a lot of maneuvering by the brothers with scissors to clip a lock of Belinda’s
hair. She would sooner die than trim her locks, being so besotted with her
luxurious tresses that she has personified them with names (Lotty, Letty, and
Beatrice, for example) and even sings with them. When she discovers that one of
them has been snatched, she ends act one by screaming, “Beatrice!”
Through it all
wander three actors and three actresses in double roles: the men (Chris Gunn,
Adam Daveline, Hansel Tan) play both ragamuffin gnomes and gentlemen of the
court. The former speak in syntax reminiscent of a cross between cockney and
the Golem in THE HOBBIT, while the latter, with names like Sir Flittybud, Lord
Inconstantine, and Lord Littlewit, wearing outlandish wigs (with plumes) and
silken finery, are effeminate British fops. The women (Catherine LeFrere, Maria
Couch, and Chandler Reeves) play both attractive sylphs and maidens of the
court, their vivid gowns and wigs in the latter roles paralleling those of the
three gentlemen.
The show, which won a Richard Rodgers Award in 2004
and was originally seen at the 2007 New York Musical Festival, does not
slavishly follow Pope, and introduces elements from other sources as well,
including Shakespeare, but, for all its occasional charm and musical pleasures,
it never quite comes together in a more than mildly amusing way. It’s
reminiscent of other fairy tale musicals (from ONCE UPON A MATTRESS to RODGERS
+ HAMMERSTEIN’S CINDERELLA) in its whimsical, self-mocking attitudes, where the
actors more or less wink at the audience as if we’re all in this droll romantic
charade together (ain’t we got fun?). You get a whiff of this from the program
note on the setting: “Back Then-ish. Across the Pond-ish.” Characterizations
are skin deep; everyone is handsome, pretty, or cute; the costumes (by Amy
Clark) are lavish, clever, and colorful; the scenery (by Wilson Chin and David
L. Arsenault), chiefly a bulls-eye patterned floor and three benches within a
three-quarters round arrangement, is brightly imaginative and agreeable; the
lighting (by Cory Pattak) is cheery and fanciful; the choreography, more like
staged movement than dance, is energetic, with one memorable number involving
giant playing cards during a game of War; and there is a pervasive sense of
playfulness from start to finish.
What can get lost in this world of tongue-in-cheek
make-believe, however, is honesty and truth, with performances so lacquered
over with directorial choices designed to create a stylized fantasy world that
they become cartoonish and ultimately unaffecting. It’s the kind of show that,
however clever it may be, makes you wonder, “Why should I care?” It takes a
remarkable talent to overcome this kind of stylistic imposition; apart from Jennifer Blood
and Jillian Gottlieb, who come closest, the company by and large fails to manage this,
although most of them do fine work not only in establishing their stock
personas but in singing the quite listenable score (lyrics by Sam Carner; music
by Derek Gregor). Unlike the too frequently cerebral style of John Michael Lachiusa and his followers, several of Gregor's tunes have the kind of tuneful appeal that is gradually vanishing from the musical theatre. Standout numbers included Belinda’s “The Hair Song,” Belinda and Edwin’s “Off to the East,” and the Baron and Edwin’s “A Delicate Thing.” Regardless
of its distinguished sources, or maybe because of them, however, Sam Carner’s book remains clunky, too talkative, and more smile than laughter inducing.
UNLOCK’D is around two hours and 20 minutes long, far
longer than such slight material requires. Where were those scissors when they
were really needed?
