254.
ALADDIN
Aladdin
should have saved at least one of the wishes he’s granted by the Genie for the
show that tells his story. Now on Broadway, ALADDIN, yet another musical drawn
from the Disney arsenal of animated movies, is not entirely bland, and some of it is
actually pretty terrific, but the overall impression is of a show that never finds
that magical spark that animates great theatre from beginning to end. Reportedly,
it has undergone numerous changes in pre-New York tryouts, many of them
centering on the use of the title characters’ three thieving buddies, Babkak
(Brian Gonzales), Omar (Jonathan Schwartz), and Kassim (Brandon O’Neill). Be
that as it may, unless you’re a serious fan of the songs from the award-winning,
box office-smash 1992 movie, there’s really only one overwhelming reason to fly
your carpet to the New Amsterdam, and that’s the presence of James Monroe
Iglehart, the bald and burly singer-dancer-comedian who stars as the Genie.
Even those who love the film will likely agree that its most memorable
sequences are those featuring Robin Williams’s brilliant turn in this role, a virtuoso
performance that is clearly the inspiration for Mr. Iglehart’s multifaceted demonstration
of vocal and physical dexterity. When he leads the company in the rousing “Friend
Like Me,” which evolves into the spectacular, high-stepping Act One finale, ALADDIN
has its one true show-stopping number, although whenever the fast-talking, show-stealing
Mr. Iglehart’s on stage, he captures your attention.
ALLADIN company. Photo: Dean Van Meer.
Some may argue with the show’s
deviations from the movie—like Iago the parrot pet of Jafar (Jonathan Freeman,
the first actor ever to repeat on Broadway a role he voiced in a movie), the
wicked vizier, being converted into a short, tubby actor (Don Darryl Rivera),
or Abu, Aladdin’s monkey, being eliminated entirely—but there are more serious
things to be concerned about. There simply are too few surprises in store and,
despite the colorful and often lavish scenery and costumes, nothing in director-choreographer
Casey Nicholaw’s production overwhelms
you with the kind of inventive originality Julie Taymor brought to THE LION
KING.
Everything
looks more or less as expected, and about the only thing, other than Mr.
Iglehart’s performance, that stirs oohs and ahs is the magic carpet on which
Aladdin takes the beautiful Princess Jasmine for a ride through the Arabian
night. The effect is seemingly created without wires, but since it’s all
upstage against a night sky filled with dazzling stars, the wireless trick
loses its impact, whereas if the carpet (even with wires) had somehow been able
to soar out over the audience, as per the flying sequences in SPIDERMAN: TURN
OFF THE DARK, the ride might have been more thrilling (and, obviously,
dangerous). Still, the night sky, with its multiple variations as star colors
and patterns change, is pretty special itself since firmaments dotted with
stars have become a theatrical cliché, with perhaps a dozen or more this season
alone (including this week's ALL THE WAY). Lighting designer Natasha Katz and her team deserve a shout out for this
sequence.
Regardless of book writer Chad
Beguilin’s script alterations, the story remains essentially the same as in the
film. Princess Jasmine (Courtney Reed) refuses to marry anyone the Sultan of
Agrabah (Clifton Davis) chooses for her, while the wicked Jafar, next in line
for the throne, plots to take over the sultanship. The disobedient princess,
feeling confined in the palace, sneaks out in disguise in search of freedom and
meets in the marketplace the charming thief Aladdin (Adam Jacobs), with his heart of gold; of course, they seem to fall instantly in love. Jafar tries to
interfere with the relationship, which will threaten his ambitions, and
captures Aladdin, falsely telling the princess he’s been executed. However, he needs
to find “a diamond in the rough” who can enter the frightening Cave of Wonders
and retrieve a magic lantern. Aladdin is recruited to do the job, but, when he
finds himself in possession of the lamp, he rubs it, allowing the Genie to make
his appearance and grant Aladdin three wishes, one of which is to give Aladdin
all the appurtenances of a prince, which he feels is the only way to truly win
the princess. (A final wish will give the Genie his freedom).
Courtney Reed, Adam Jacobs. Photo: Dean Van Meer.
A
lot of time is wasted on Aladdin’s mistaken belief that the princess—who, at
first, doesn’t recognize him in his new guise—will only love him if he’s a
prince, since it’s already been made clear that she loves him for himself; the show moves without much suspense to its preordained conclusion when Aladdin will realize
that being a liar is not in his best romantic interests. Finally, in a compressed
conclusion lacking any credibility and seemingly over before it's begun, the vizier, who has become
sultan, gets his just reward, the Genie gets his freedom, Aladdin gets Jasmine,
and, after nearly two and a half hours, another Arabian night comes to a happy end.
Despite all the show’s softball jokes (“Did
you really think I’d go on a magic carpet ride with a complete stranger?”) and
puns (like a reference to “every Tom, Dick, and Hassim”) with contemporary
overtones, nothing in the script makes the slightest reference to the ironic
situation of a Middle Eastern woman wishing to find her own true love even in
the face of social conventions that require her to marry a total stranger.
Recent stories of such lovers being the target of murder by their own families make
the romance in ALADDIN seem trite. There’s also a passing
question about why some people live in splendor while others live in squalor,
but, as usual in such shows, serious social issues remain in the background. But themes
of entrapment and the need for freedom affect all three
leads, Jasmine, Aladdin, and the Genie.
There’s plenty to keep your eyes
riveted here, with the many vivid Arabian-themed sets of Bob Crowley and the lovely
costumes of Gregg Barnes, both scenery and garments taking their cues from those
in the movie. Princess Jasmine, for example, first appears in a blue,
sequin-bedecked pants suit that looks more appropriate for a belly dancer than
a princess in a patriarchal society; it’s just like what the cartoon
character wears, so who am I to judge?
Only Mr. Iglehart’s performance is
truly distinctive; everyone else is talented and appropriately cast, but their
roles, including Aladdin’s, don’t give them the kind of unique opportunities
built into the Genie’s. The always listenable if not earthshaking score, which resurrects
many “lost” songs cut from the movie (which had only 6 songs compared with
the show’s 14), includes music by Alan Menken and lyrics by Howard Ashman (half a dozen songs), Tim Rice (3 songs, including the popular “A
Whole New World”), and Chad Beguelin (4 new songs, including Jasmine and
Aladdin’s generic romantic ballad “A Million Miles Away,” and the fine “Somebody’s Got
Your Back,” which gives the Genie another chance to strut his stuff). Danny Troob’s wonderful orchestrations make the music
sound even better.
ALADDIN
is cozily agreeable Broadway fare, and, thin as it may be for adults, youngsters will find its
story and characters appealing. But you have to sit patiently until late in Act
One for the Genie to appear, and only then will you remember what it was about
the movie that captured your attention. If somebody at Disney rubbed a lamp and
wished for just the right artist to embody the role on Broadway, they got what
they wanted in James Monroe Iglehart. As for their other wishes, well, maybe not
so much.
