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Aug. 14--To the palpable amazement of many in a packed pavilion, this past weekend's installment in an ongoing Stephen Sondheim celebration was neither a concert-style nor a semistaged affair; there was nary a music stand nor a tuxedo in the place. For better or worse, the Ravinia Festival audience got a full-blown, every-line-spoken revival of "Gypsy." It was replete with lively lighting, clever costumes, sufficient scenery, honorable homage to the original Jerome Robbins choreography and -- in the person of one Patti LuPone -- a certifiable Broadway diva playing the famous role of Mama Rose with grace and guts.
In some ways, this anachronistic affair (directed with seemingly endless energy by Lonny Price) was like a return to the old star system. In those days, big names trundled to town, costumes on their backs, for a brief rehearsal period followed by a crowd-pleasing appearance alongside a local cast in a beloved historic venue, albeit typically one with walls.
The emphasis with this fresh-air, one-weekend "Gypsy" was so much on theatrical values -- and on finding room on the stage for all that dancing -- that the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, no less, found itself scrunched toward the rear. Under the baton of the great Paul Gemignani, its fine musicians looked not so much like one of the world's great orchestras as a slightly bemused Broadway pit band wherein most of the players were accompanying an actual striptease for the first time in their illustrious careers -- one can only hope. At least they sounded great.
This fully staged approach came with risks. For one thing, it invites you to judge the show alongside a Broadway peer group, even though it's almost impossible for a cast so briefly together to achieve the emotional connections that Arthur Laurents' famous book ideally needs. This project also was asking a great deal of LuPone, who in no time at all had to make a head-spinning switch from playing Mrs. Lovett in the Broadway revival of "Sweeney Todd" to essaying the stage mother from hell and one of the most demanding female roles in American music theater.
Given the givens, LuPone went well beyond what one could reasonably ask. Like several other cast members, she was still shaky on some book sections of the show Friday night. But as long as Rose nails her turn, few worry about a bit of flubbed dialog. And in that canonical assignment, LuPone most assuredly delivered.
She is what you might call a classic Rose, with none of the eccentric or mannered flourishes of, say, a Bernadette Peters. Nor does LuPone have truck with revisionism. Her energy focused low in her stocky body, she merely sets her jaw and belts out the timeless subtextual pain behind Sondheim's lyrics of endless resilience. But LuPone also can suddenly lighten and finesse her upper register, letting the vulnerable notes of Jule Styne's intentionally misleading melodies float with dangerous dysfunction on the night air, just as the late, great composer surely would have wanted. "Everything's Coming Up Roses" and the famed "Rose's Turn" were met Friday by deserved ovations.
The other principals were more problematic. Neither Jack Willis (as Herbie, the long-suffering paramour of Rose) nor Jessica Boevers (as Louise, a.k.a., Gypsy Rose Lee) were ideally cast. Willis was far from the usual Herbie, in that his character was mostly unsympathetic. Even in the early scenes, Willis affected a sardonic delivery and something close to a leer. That's a reasonable choice, you could argue, and surely a change from the usual lovable schlemiel who comes with most revivals of this show. But if you don't ever really like Herbie, you don't care so much when Mama pimps her daughter and he walks.
Boevers, a North Shore kid but now a frequent Broadway lead, was simply terrific in the first act. The character of the sweet-voiced, button-down beauty Louise nicely matches her huge talents. But this show ultimately needs a more drastic and complete transition to the star-stripper than Boevers showed us here. Her character didn't change enough, although in fairness, the second-act strips must have been amazingly hard to pull off (so to speak) in such a huge venue.
Frankly -- and limitations aside -- you could spend a decent portion of the evening marveling at how all kinds of things were pulled off in this environment. Major production numbers, after all, were presented with all the requisite expansiveness.
Ravinia, it seems, now is ready to dump the concert performances and take on the whole Broadway shooting match. What's next? "Oklahoma," replete with Dream Ballet? That would be no harder to do than this one.
CJones5@tribune.com
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Copyright (c) 2006, Chicago Tribune
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