REVIEW: LITTLE WOMEN in Baltimore: You'll Be Delighted

I have three things to admit up front. One: I never read the book or saw any of the movie versions of Louisa May Alcott's beloved novel, Little Women. Two: I really had no desire to see the show, but did so out of obligation. Three: Boy, am I glad I saw Little Women: The Musical.

Let me get my few qualms out of the way. The last scenes of Act Two need some serious trimming. About half way through the second to last scene, right after Marmee's big exit, the show grinds to if not a halt, then a turtle-slow walk. The problem is that throughout the rest of the show, the book scenes (by Allan Knee) are brief and segue into songs that do everything songs in a musical should do: amplify emotion and progress the plot. The last two scenes have unbelievably long passages of dialogue, and worse yet, cover no ground we didn't already know was coming (even those of us who had no idea of the story knew how it was going to end). Also, and perhaps because it was the first performance, the spotlight technician had his subjects in half-light or moving light. It was reminiscent of the high school AV club at an assembly where the principal unexpectedly leaves the podium. Aside from that, I really enjoyed every other single thing about the show.

The show itself is extremely family-friendly without being dumbed-down or didactic. In fact, the worst word uttered is, "Hell." And so earnest is the delivery of every squeaky-clean line, the gasp elicited from the crowd when the h-word comes up was genuine. Truly, it is almost an art form here where the lines might be cringe inducing, but never are. A more sincere, honest, and old-fashioned (in every possibly positive connotation) script hasn't been produced in eons. And you must have the heart of the Grinch not to be touched by the profound love these characters have for each other, the deep sadness they endure, or the pulse-quickening fervor for life each holds onto. Would that real-life be more filled with such thrilling passion. The score matches these emotions – simple, fun and toe-tapping when it needs to be – "I'd Be Delighted", soaring when it absolutely has to be – "Astonishing", and deceptively complex just as life for the March sisters becomes the same – "Some Things Are Meant to Be." It is rare, indeed, when the score of a new musical has no real clunkers, and this one, with music by Jason Howland and lyrics by Mindi Dickstein, is that rare one.

Director Susan H. Schulman proves again that she has a real knack for stunning stage pictures and tight direction, and most importantly, a keen understanding for bringing the heart of a beloved classic successfully to the stage (her previous efforts include The Secret Garden). The design team has created a rich tapestry of scenes, each more gorgeous then the next – it cannot be said that this touring show has been cheapened in any way. Set designer Derek McLane has created the perfect balance between spectacle and minimalism, realism and symbolism – the living room is a sofa, a fireplace and a piano, no walls, yet a beach scene has a sand and shell covered jetty and what appears to be a life-sized sail boat. The drops (and there are several) alone are jaw-dropping. And like an unobtrusive painter, lighting designer Kenneth Posner has used his palette to add nuance and mood. Catherine Zuber's costumes are both beautiful and fun.

The star attraction here, of course, is pop icon Maureen McGovern. And she has earned her above the title billing, even though hers is a supporting role. Like the role she plays, Marmee, McGovern is the sturdy rock that anchors the show, magnificently keeping things in check, not allowing too much excess or easily cheesy delivery of either song or line. She leads the young cast by example, even in her gracious curtain call, where her affection for the company, and theirs for her, is delightfully evident. And her Act Two ballad, "Days of Plenty" is both heartbreaking and amazingly empowering – one of those moments people will recall seasons from now. What a pro!

Not a single member of the small cast disappoints. They each have their moments, and never get mired down in the cuteness, simplicity or drama. Never once do they give in to the temptation of overplaying or melodrama. It is 100% clear that they believe in their characters and the material. Gwen Hollander as Amy is absolutely believable as the youngest sister – bratty, immature, and later as a fully grown woman. As oldest sister Meg, Renée Brna, with her beautiful voice and china doll face, walks a fine line between full maturity and still letting her hair down in play with her sisters. And as middle sister Beth, Autumn Hurlbert, is spunky at first, and angelic in her acceptance of her fate – kudos to this young lady for realizing dying is a multi-layered, emotional experience - one not just acted by the dying character - and for not overshadowing, but sharing the stage with others mourning. The men also score nicely, chiefly the powerfully voiced Stephen Patterson as Laurie, who brings a warmth and honesty to a deceptively complex character – he makes me wish Laurie were my best friend or brother. Michael Minarik makes a great impression as the first man to break up the sisters, and his duet with Meg, "More Than I Am" is beautifully sung. Robert Stattel as Mr. Laurence is wonderful as the grumpy next-door neighbor with a not too hidden heart of gold. Andrew Varela, as Professor Bhaer, crafts a sweet, but strong foil for Jo as she lashes out at life while she finds her way. It is crucial that the character can stand up to her, and he does so with aplomb. Louisa Flaningam, in the role closest to a villain in the piece, is both hilarious and exasperating as Aunt March. One fears she might stop the show to chastise members of the audience for slouching in their seats!

The real find of this show, and of the entire season at the Hippodrome, is the absolutely mesmerizing bolt of lighting that is Susan Spencer as Jo March, Alcott's alter ego. Every minute she is onstage, all eyes are on her, and she knows it – which, in this case, is a very good thing. She knows that it is Jo that propels the entire story – equal parts smart and sassy, feminist and feminine. She attacks the part with everything she has (and her talents are many) and never once gives in to the urge to do some scenery chewing. (She could give lessons on how to play it big, but not ridiculously.) Her voice is lovely when it needs to be, spunky when it suits the scene, and is so easy on the ears. Her transformation from blatant tomboy to refined young woman is a sublime example of how to execute a layered role. Not one syllable that she sings or speaks comes off as less than completely real. And best of all, she knows how to share the stage – her acting out of the story in "The Weekly Volcano Press" is funny yet unobtrusive, and in the touching scene between Jo and her dying sister Beth, both actresses do a superb job of give and take. Mark my words: in the not too distant future, Baltimore theatre-goers will be able to say they saw Susan Spencer before she became the household name she is bound to become. Christopher Columbus, she is good!

I am the first to admit when I am wrong. And I was wrong about my initial opinion of Little Women: The Musical. It is an unexpected, wonderful, life-affirming evening of theatre. In a world that grows more complicated and ominous as each minute passes, how absolutely fantastic it is to know that something so simple and quaint can be so affecting. Don't make the same mistake I almost did – get tickets to Little Women before it leaves Baltimore.

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