163. A GENTLEMAN’S GUIDE TO LOVE AND MURDER
With the current theatre season
approaching what many consider its midway mark (technically, the awards season,
which actually begins in May, reached midpoint at the end of October), it will
come as no surprise to state that A GENTLEMAN’S GUIDE TO LOVE AND MURDER, which
officially opened at the Walter Kerr Theatre two weeks ago, is probably a frontrunner
for whatever awards are available to it. I base this simply on the great many
ecstatic reviews it’s received, and on my own comparison of it to the
competition, which has not been especially overheated thus far. There’s no
doubt the show, which had its world premiere at the Hartford Stage and was then seen at San Diego's Old Globe, is exceptionally well-staged (by Darko Tresnjak) in a style reminiscent of British music hall performance, and that it contains a
sterling company and memorable design elements. Robert L. Freeman and Steven
Lutvak’s lyrics are as witty and smart as any to be heard on or Off Broadway
this season, but Mr. Lutvak’s music, while often pleasant enough and always
appropriate to the show’s requirements, floated away without making much of an impression..
Lisa O'Hare and Bryce Pinkham. Photo: Joan Marcus.
The
basic story of A GENTLEMAN’S GUIDE will be familiar to anyone who’s seen the
classic British film comedy, KIND HEARTS AND CORONETS (1949), set in the
Edwardian era, in which the great Alec Guinness displayed his versatility by playing
eight different members of the D’Ascoyne family, each of whom gets bumped off
by a poor young man who comes to the belated realization that, with them out of the way, he
can succeed to the family wealth and title. The film was based on a 1907 novel
by Roy Horniman called Israel Rank: The
Autobiography of a Criminal, in which the murderer is half-Jewish, and
whose treatment could be considered anti-Semitic. The ethnicity of the murderer’s
father is the reason that his mother was disowned by the D’Ascoyne family, so
it was changed for the movie from Jewish to Italian; the Broadway show, which
claims to be derived from the novel, not the movie, changes it to Castilian. Thus
the novel’s Israel Rank became the movie’s Louis Mazzini, who becomes the
musical’s Monty Navarro. The D’Ascoyne family is now the D’Ysquith family, and
other names are similarly altered, but some remain the same. 
Bryce
Pinkham, a nice-looking young actor-singer with a fine Broadway voice and light
comic stage presence, plays Monty, bringing to it a nice touch of believable
sex appeal and malicious glee as his comically murderous successes pile up and
his fortunes improve. Jefferson Mays, who came to fame playing multiple roles
several years back in the one-man I AM MY OWN WIFE, plays the many victims of
Monty’s ambition. Mr. Mays’s performance is highly touted as one of the
principal reasons for seeing this show, and it definitely is noteworthy.
However, despite Mr. Mays’s ability to make rapid costume and makeup changes to
play the many D’Ysquith victims, they are almost all—including the buxom Lady
Hyacinth—variations of the same upper-crust, stiff upper lip, snooty, high
British-accented type, and there is never for a moment any question that we are
seeing the same actor working his tail off to effect multiple quick changes. His
energy, charm, and technical skill notwithstanding, Mr. Mays, in my opinion at
least, is not giving the performance for the ages some have credited to him. A
great deal of his success lies in his costuming, especially when he dons
muscular shoulders and arms to play the aggressively macho Major Lord
Bartholomew D’Ysquith.
Lauren Worsham. Photo: Joan Marcus.
The
beautiful women in Monty’s life are perfectly represented by Lisa O’Hare as
Sibella Hallward, the gorgeous blonde narcissist and gold digger, who sings “I
Don’t Understand the Poor,” and Lauren Worsham, who plays the purer, more idealistic
brunette, Phoebe D’Ysquith. Each of these ravishing actresses sings exquisitely
and brings spirited comic enthusiasm to her role. In the smaller but
significant supporting role of Miss Shingle, the older woman who informs Monty
of his relationship to the D’Ysquith family, Jane Carr is an absolute delight,
brimming with theatrical joie de vie. All the other roles are minor accessories
played by a gifted ensemble of six, offering their own display of
versatility as they make multiple costume changes.
Bryce Pinkham and Jefferson Mays. Photo: Joan Marcus.
The
occasional farcical excesses (including one number, “It’s Better with a Man,”
lathered with campy homoerotic shtick) are probably unavoidable in a
show that is essentially a pastiche of Edwardian melodrama; the action
transpires on a set brilliantly conceived by Alexander Dodge as an elaborate
Victorian toy theatre, set several feet upstage of the apron lip, with the
actors playing both within it (often against delightful projections by Aaron
Rhyne). One scene, set at Monty’s home, stands out for the way it depicts two
rooms on either side of a hallway represented by an arch. Sibella is in one
room and Phoebe in the other; in what I believe is the show’s standout sequence,
the arrangement allows Monty some unforgettably amusing maneuvers as he
attempts to prevent the women from encountering one another. All three players
are totally on their game during this tour de farce.
Matching
Mr. Dodge’s period setting are the truly lovely costumes of Linda Cho, who
captures the essence of Edwardian men’s and women’s costumes with historical
accuracy graced with humor and imagination. Peggy Hickey’s choreography is more
in the vein of staged movement than conventional dance numbers, but it is very
well conceived and expertly performed.
My
reservations about the music come from so many of the songs being in the patter
style, familiar not only from Gilbert and Sullivan, whose work they often
resemble, but from shows like MY FAIR LADY, where the star has to speak-sing
the lyrics without the music being too challenging to sing. Mr. Mays can carry a
tune, but his is not a traditional theatre voice and the songs seem geared to
his musical abilities.
Because
of its persistent two-dimensionality A GENTLEMAN’S GUIDE TO LOVE AND MURDER sometimes
becomes too thin for sustained interest. It was hard to keep THE MYSTERY OF
EDWIN DROOD from invading my thoughts as I watched it; that show, set somewhat
earlier in the Victorian era, spoofed the style of old time melodramas in a not
too dissimilar way, but did so with a richer storyline, a wider range of
interesting characters, more melodic songs, and considerably more humor. A
GENTLEMAN’S GUIDE may be at or near the forefront of this season’s musicals
thus far, but with five months left before the season ends, I’m looking forward
to seeing what challengers it’s going to face.
