Review: Patti LuPone and Christine Ebersole Battle Over American Women in WAR PAINT

The recently completed Off-Broadway run of Penelope Skinner's fictional dramatic comedy LINDA embraced the efforts of a 55-year-old feminist of the cosmetics industry who fought to have her company's products promoted in a way that recognized the beauty of all women rather than exploit their fears of not achieving society's beauty standards.

But that exploitation is demonstrated to be the key to success in War Paint, the new fact-based musical taken from the lives of rival cosmetics pioneers Elizabeth Arden and Helena Rubinstein.

The opening scene, for example, draws laughs when advertisement voiceovers ask random 1935 Manhattan women pointed questions like "Has your husband lost interest?" and "Might it be the fault of your appearance?"

"Not every woman is a natural beauty, but the right face cream can work miracles," assures an authoritative male voice.

"Am I putting my best face forward?" the chorus of women nervously sing as they look for answers through the famous red door that led to Arden's chic salon.

As women who fought through the everyday sexism of 20th Century America for decades to become among the most successful business owners of their time, the struggle to the top endured by Arden and Rubinstein is an important story that's certainly worthy of a first class stage treatment, and director Michael Greif's polished and professional production delivers. The stylish visuals by David Korins (sets), Catherine Zuber (costumes) and Kenneth Posner (lights) reflect the sophistication of the subject, as does the refined choreography of Christopher Gattelli.

Best of all, the two iconic figures of cosmetics are played by two iconic figures of contemporary theatre. Christine Ebersole radiates charming elegance as Elizabeth Arden, who, at a time when makeup was strictly used by women of lower class and questionable morality, targeted the wealthier set with promises to improve their attractiveness and restore their youth. The musical stresses that while her products may not have been the best, she packaged them beautifully in her signature pink.

Patti LuPone bring her gutsy brashness to Helena Rubinstein, a Polish immigrant more focused on the science of beauty, who at first struggles to match her rival's sales with her superior, but plainly packaged, products.

Each is granted an 11 o'clock number that showcases them royally. Ebersole's introspective art song, "Pink," has Arden questioning the worth of the woman she invented herself to be and LuPone's "Forever Beautiful" has Rubinstein belting with pleasure at having every great artist in the world immortalizing her with portraits of permanent youth and beauty.

The rest of the score is mostly set to composer Scott Frankel's muscular jazz rhythms. Bookwriter Doug Wright and lyricist Michael Korie tell parallel stories of two women who never met in person, with scenes split in two to emphasize their common dealings with sexism and their mutual urge to stand alone as tops in their field. They each suffer financial setbacks when, after congressional appearances, they're forced by law to list ingredients on their products, and both attempt to promote their names by contributing beauty to the war effort.

Two fine actors play the primary men in their lives. John Dossett is Arden's husband, Tommy Lewis, and Douglas Sills is Rubinstein's advertising executive, Harry Fleming. Both are feeling underappreciated and anyone who has seen enough musicals knows that such characters are usually found in a bar in the second act, singing about their mutual frustrations. But first there's a number that has Harry picking up a sailor while Tommy parties with his wife's female employees at the Cotton Club; an interesting choice of locale since there are no black people in the cast.

Erik Liberman makes a snazzy appearance as a smarmy Charles Revson, whose Revlon products would succeed by marketing to women with less money to spend.

While complexities and flaws make for more interesting characters, War Paint presents its two central subjects as being so motivated by competition and ambition that they seem unfeeling about how their power influences the way women regard themselves. While both argued the point that feeling beautiful instills in women the confidence to achieve great things, Arden's sentiment that "Every woman has the right to be beautiful," is neatly packaged ad copy while Rubinstein's theory that "There are no ugly women, only lazy ones," is downright shaming.

It isn't until their final scene, a moment contrived by the authors to have them finally meet, that Arden sings, "Did we make women freer or did we help enslave them?" If that issue had surfaced earlier in War Paint, it could have been a connecting thread that engages audiences throughout the two acts.

Instead, like the Elizabeth Arden face creams described in the show, War Paint is gorgeously packaged, but doesn't quite accomplish its noble task. While the two enterprising women are rightfully honored, the material doesn't seep into the pores.