Anyone Can Whistle: MasterVoices

The MasterVoices' concert of Anyone Can Whistle was a lovely and poignant reminder that although we have lost Stephen Sondheim, we will always have his work. And, oh!, that work!

Elizabeth Stanley
Photo: Nina Westervelt

Anyone Can Whistle is, to say the least, a problematic musical, bloated here, thin there, sometimes smart but too often cutesy. But the score includes gems: in particular, "There Won't Be Trumpets," "Anyone Can Whistle," and "With So Little to Be Sure Of." And, like all of Sondheim's work, Anyone Can Whistle rewards multiple hearings and viewings. I have known the original cast recording by heart since the late 1970s, yet I was surprised and delighted over and over again by Sondheim's brilliance, humor, and heart.

The cast of the MasterVoices concert was uneven. Elizabeth Stanley was magnetic, brilliant, moving, thrilling, superb, and fabulous. On the other hand, Vanessa Williams was little better than mediocre; frequently, she seemed uncomfortable with the music, and she lacks the presence necessary to give dimension to the Mayoress. She just wasn't interesting. Santino Fontana is always likeable, and he has a lovely voice, but his performance was bland. While Stanley prepared for and gave a full performance, Williams and Fontana seemed less prepared, and they sang songs rather than playing characters.

One of the highlights of the evening was Joanna Gleason's entrance (she narrated the show). Over 2,800 people greeted her as an old friend, roaring and clapping as she beamed with pleasure. And of course she was wonderful as the narrator. 

Ted Sperling, Vanessa Williams
Photo: Nina Westervelt

Ted Sperling did a nice job as director and an excellent job as conductor. The orchestra sounded terrific. The MasterVoices chorus was entertaining but underused. Weirdly enough, the sound was erratic. Carnegie Hall is famous for its acoustics, and during intermission my friend told me of sitting in the last row of the highest balcony years ago and hearing every unmiked word. I guess the miking was a problem, because the sound was sometimes murky, and occasionally crackly, with much dialogue completely lost.

Before the concert started, Sperling spoke a few words of introduction. He showed us his vocal score, given to him by Victoria Clark in 1984. It was a mistake to put Victoria Clark in our minds, because it was so easy to imagine how amazing she would have been as the Mayoress. 

But the evening's two stars made it a concert well worth seeing: Stephen Sondheim and Elizabeth Stanley. They made astonishingly beautiful music together.

Wendy Caster

Jagged Little Pill

There's a lot going on in Jagged Little Pill, which has to be the wokest jukebox musical you're likely to see on Broadway lately. Built around the era-defining third album of the same name by Alanis Morissette, the production departs from the '90s in its setting and aesthetics, even as it remains rooted in women's concerns--and the women's rage that was so fresh and exciting in the pop music world back then. The musical usually works, and even when it doesn't, I can't criticize it too much; like Morissette's album, it's not perfect, but its heart and mind strive to be, and that counts for a lot.

Focused on the Healy family, a comfortable suburban foursome who seem on the surface to have it all, Jagged touches on an impressive host of contemporary social issues in its two-and-a-half hours. Mom Mary Jane (Elizabeth Stanley) puts on a brave face as she exercises, shops, tidies, and competes with other suburban mothers, but she's got a growing dependency on painkillers following a car accident that took place about a year before the action begins. Her husband Steve (Sean Allan Krill) works all the time, and the two are becoming increasingly estranged. Their golden-child son Nick (Derek Klena) just got into Harvard, but also has no clear sense of his own needs or purpose in the world. Their activist daughter, Frankie (Celia Rose Gooding), was adopted at birth; now a teenager, she has grown tired of her mothers' constant criticism and of feeling like she doesn't belong in suburban Connecticut.

What saves the show from feeling like an overstuffed after-school special are its working parts. There is, of course, a rocking score--and a cast of voices that is consistently able to handle it. The zippy, typically good-humored book, by Diablo Cody, is respectful and serious about the many issues tackled, but never feels preachy or histrionic. There are some excellent performances (Lauren Patton as Jo, Frankie's best friend with benefits, is a huge standout). And mu favorite part of the production were the dance and movement sequences, courtesy of Sidi Larbi Cherkaoui. I appreciate, as well, just how focused this production is on the desires, relationships, and contradictions of its female characters.

I saw Jagged Little Pill with my teen daughter, who pointed out that its upbeat ending felt a little forced, considering the ocean of issues the characters encounter in what is meant to be a single holiday season. Then again, a musical devoid of hope--especially in these dark times--is a serious breach that I suspect even peak '90s Alanis wouldn't go in for. Ultimately, I appreciate what this production tries to do, how it tries to do it, and how groovy it looks and sounds in the process.