Toby's 'Damn Yankees' a Winner

Watching the production of Damn Yankees currently playing at Toby’s Dinner Theatre of Baltimore, I was reminded of several things.  The first is how much times have changed since 1955, when Damn Yankees opened on Broadway, and even since 1994, when a revival starring Bebe Neuwirth and Victor Garber was nominated for 4 Tony Awards.  In 1994, Roger Maris still owned the single-season homerun record, Barry Bonds still had a normal-sized head, and fairy tales about baseball players who dance the mambo for charity and sing “All you really need is heart” still seemed plausible.

Maybe not even then.  Because Damn Yankees also reminded me that of all the problems to be solved by musical theatre artists, perhaps the most vexing is how to write a good second act.  It never ceases to amaze me how many musicals—whether frivolous or serious, British or American—come apart at the seams following intermission.  But in my experience, few “classics” unravel so completely as Damn Yankees.  I still can’t piece together the gigantic rug under which every obstacle to the obligatory happy ending is swept.

And that’s a shame, because Toby’s has mounted a fine production, directed with confidence and a generally light touch by Lawrence Munsey.  So rather than dwell on the shortcomings of George Abbott and Douglass Wallop’s book—it has survived sixty-plus years, and it will survive my condemnation, I’m sure—I shall leave it to you to decide how much of it you buy, and turn my attention to the cast and crew.

To understand the sentiment behind the show’s title, you need only know this: In the 20 years between 1936 and 1955, the New York Yankees won 14 pennants, or one fewer than the number of times the Washington Senators finished in the bottom half of the league.  Thus when long-suffering Senators fan Joe Boyd screams into the night following yet another loss to the Yanks, “I’d sell my soul for a long-ball hitter!” he is only slightly exaggerating.

Still, Joe doesn’t expect to be taken literally, or for his scream to be followed by a blast of smoke and the appearance of a sinister-looking man dressed in red.  The stranger goes by the name of Applegate, but we all know who he really is, and before Joe can bid his wife Meg goodbye he has signed away his soul.  In return, he is transformed into a strapping young shortstop named Joe Hardy, who can hit the ball a country mile and, as the newest Senator, inspire his teammates to make that long-awaited run for the pennant.  But is Joe strong enough to beat the devil—and his bewitching assistant, Lola—and reclaim his soul without letting down all of D.C.?  Do we even have to ask?

As Joe Hardy, Matthew Schleigh is as all-American as the game he plays.  Flashing an “aw-shucks” grin and one of the better swings in the company (one of the not-so-secret secrets of the theatre community is how few actors know how to throw a ball), Schleigh makes you believe Joe really is motivated by love of the game, and when he opens his mouth to sing a tender duet with the unsuspecting Meg, you wish composer Richard Adler and lyricist Jerry Ross had written even one solo for their protagonist.

Daniel McDonald is equally touching as Joe’s older self, and Lynne Sigler does all she can to make the abandoned Meg—who never does find out where her husband disappeared to all summer—coherent.  In truth, there’s not much for Meg to do but embody self-sacrificing love—she is the proverbial “good woman” behind every great man (or at least great slugger).  Still, there is a certain daring in the implication that a 20-year-old man can fall (back) in love with a woman several times his age; indeed, theirs is the only relationship in the show played completely straight.

David Bosley-Reynolds, with his looming figure, shaved head, and game-show baritone, is perfectly cast as Applegate.  He too is a better singer than his character is allowed to be, and he makes the most of his underwritten number, “Those Were the Good Old Days.”  As Lola, Kirstin Riegler—clad in an impressive array of breakaway costumes designed by Janine Gulisano-Sunday—is front and center for the best dance numbers, including her eleventh-hour duet with Joe, “Two Lost Souls,” that slowly evolves into a memorably choreographed soiree featuring Hell’s most infamous lovers.  The Spanish accent that Riegler adopts for her most famous number, “Whatever Lola Wants, Lola Gets,” is also a hoot.

Scenic and Lighting Designer David A. Hopkins and Sound Designer Corey Brown do a nice job manipulating fire, dry ice, strobe lights, and reverb effects as Applegate and Lola slink and strut their various ways across the stage.  Less effective is the smoke effect in Act Two that covers Joe’s transformation back into an old man—what is already confusing in the book becomes doubly so onstage.  For that matter, the body mikes—as is all-too-frequently the case in smaller theatres—create quite a bit of static when jostled.

The remainder of the company—the ballplayers and their swooning admirers—work effectively together in such up-tempo, tuneful numbers as “Heart,” “Shoeless Joe from Hannibal, MO,” and “The Game.”  As an ambitious reporter several generations ahead of her time, Lauren Spencer-Harris has a terrific belt, and Robert Biedermann gets his laughs as the team’s crusty old manager.  Until those unfortunate final scenes, this adds up to more than enough to guarantee a good time.

Damn Yankees is playing at Toby’s Dinner Theatre of Baltimore, located in the Best Western Hotel and Conference Center at 5625 O’Donnell Street, through August 30^th.  Doors open at 6 P.M. on Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays, 5 P.M. on Sundays, and 10:30 A.M. for Thursday and Sunday matinees.  Tickets are $34.50­–$54.  For additional information or to purchase tickets, call 410-649-1660 or 866-99-TOBYS or go to www.tobysdinnertheatre.com.

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