Review: Marsalis and Doyle Brilliantly Jazz Up Sondheim in A BED AND A CHAIR

The jagged syncopations of George Gershwin... The lifting waltzes of Richard Rodgers... Even the Weimar march tempos of Kurt Weill have all at one time or another been appropriated by America's great jazz artists. But Stephen Sondheim? Well yes, there have been notable jazz arrangements of his compositions, but it's still a bit of a novelty to see the finger-snapping crowd digging a piano, bass and sax combo's tackling of "The Ballad of Sweeney Todd" or "Getting Married Today."

Winton Marsalis' sole experience playing Sondheim was as a third substitute in the pit of Sweeney Todd when City Center Encores!'s Artistic Director Jack Viertel approached him with the idea of doing for the musical theatre master what the two had already done for Duke Ellington in Cotton Club Parade, which recently opened on Broadway to rave reviews as After Midnight.

So the City Center stage is once again populated by members of a top-flight jazz orchestra, conducted by David Loud, playing sparking arrangements by Marsalis, Richard DeRosa, Ted Nash, Vincent Gardner, Victor Gaines and Sherman Irby. All but DeRosa appear on stage as part of the 15-piece ensemble.

But A Bed And A Chair, named after a lyric snippet from "Broadway Baby," is by no means a concert. Director John Doyle, who conceived the piece with Viertel and Peter Gethers, has arranged 28 selections from the Sondheim songbook into a loose narrative for four actor/singers and four dancers playing a sampling of Gothamites who spend their days and nights soaked in the glamour and energy of New York City before coming home to, well, a bed and a chair. (Which happen to be the only set pieces used, though the bed gets much more of a workout.)

The evening is subtitled A New York Love Affair and it appropriately begins with the overture to one of his most New York musicals, Merrily We Roll Along, only pushed forward in a swing arrangement. Throughout the instrumentals, Steve Channon's projections show loving aerial views of Manhattan's skyline "from Battery Park way up to Washington Heights." But the visuals remain earthbound once the story begins, and Channon does an excellent job of planting each song into a fresh location and context.

It's the early hours when we meet the show's four characters (referred to simply as Young Woman, Young Man, Older Man and Older Woman), all introduced with individual solos.

French/Dominican jazz vocalist Cyrille Aimée, who displays a crisp lyrical knack throughout the night, enters first with a Latin-flavored arrangement of the youthful ode to loving every blare and spec of the city's noise and grime, "What More Do I Needs?" She's followed by Jeremy Jordan, who appears to be on his way to work or class, singing a cooler, more relaxed interpretation of "Another Hundred People" than you'd find on a Company cast album, as he watches the rush of the city with knowing delight.

The music switches to a broader, supper club mood as Norm Lewis gorgeously croons "So Many People," obviously madly in love with someone as he tries to hail a cab. Then comes Bernadette Peters, who must have somehow chopped a good twenty years off her age since her last Broadway appearance in Follies. Looking every bit a star, wrapped in a curve-hugging dress, she shimmies, struts and confidently belts a honky-tonk arrangement of "Broadway Baby" to the back row. (There's a fun moment when she's singing to a photo of the Schoenfeld and Jacobs Theatres as she calls out, "Hey, Mr. Producer!") Peters is in stunning form all night as an actress and a singer, skillfully handling material that takes full advantage of her intelligence, wit and star wattage.

Each character is also represented by a dancing shadow. Guided by choreographer Parker Esse, Meg Gillentine, Tyler Hanes, Grasan Kingsberry and Elizabeth Parkinson express the unsung subtext of each relationship.

The narrative is divided into sets, which tell sections of the story without applause breaks. For example, Aimée is happily puttering around her apartment singing "Live Alone And Like It," but when the backdrop switches to a photo of a dingy coffee shop, Jordan is seen, alone, singing "Losing My Mind." It's a quieter, less-torchy interpretation and you can imagine him as one of those people who linger in cafes, lost in their own thoughts. He ends the song crossing to the bed and the two of them are locked in an embrace as their shadows (Gillentine and Hanes) leap to a lively dance to "Who's That Woman?" The lyric isn't sung, but if you know the words you'd be gathering up hints about their relationship. The sequence ends with Aimée and Jordan rejecting commitment with the cynical lyric of "Happily Ever After."

Though Lewis considers "Someone Is Waiting," his newest bed partner, Aimée, is frustrated by his obliviousness, and occasionally scats her complaint in a newly syncopated "You Could Drive A Person Crazy." From the other end of the stage, Peters looks longingly at Lewis, wishing to change their relationship back to "Like It Was."

When Jordan sings of the "Giants In The Sky" he's referring to the Manhattan penthouse where he has a rendezvous with Peters, who prepares for his visit with "Isn't He Something?," revamped as a hot number where she anxiously yearns for her young lover's embraces. She steams up the place ferociously. When he does arrive, their time in bed is enhanced by their shadows tentatively exploring the terrain to "With So Little To Be Sure Of." (Again, knowing the lyric increases your understanding of what's being communicated. The same applies to Kingsberry and Parkinson's gorgeous pas de deux to "Send in The Clowns.")

Eventually, the characters all wind up drinking in an elegant lounge, which is the perfect setting for Peters to propose a toast. Her sensational "Ladies Who Lunch," set up with a fresh new context, is mixed with Lewis and Jordan tipsily joking about their romantic "Agony," with snips of "Can That Boy Foxtrot" and "Uptown/Downtown" completing the picture.

Sondheim, of course, is best known as a dramatist whose songs are filled with specifics that define characters and situations. The creators of A Bed And A Chair wisely don't try to force his songs into a specific narrative, but rather, give us glimpses of relationships and leave it to us to fill in the blanks. The performances are all of sublime quality and the new arrangements allow for lyrics to pop out in unexpected ways. This is by far the best stage production made up of previous Sondheim selections New York has seen since Side By Side By Sondheim started the trend back in '77.

Photos by Joan Marcus: Top: Bernadette Peters and Norm Lewis; Bottom: Meg Gillentine and Tyler Hanes.

Click here to follow Michael Dale on Twitter.

To post a comment, you must register and login.