Review: Anita Gillette & Penny Fuller Raise Spirits at Feinstein's/54 Below with SIN TWISTERS TOO

Look at you, look at me/How much more alike could two girls be . . . ("Friends"--Jerry Bock/ Sheldon Harnick). 'Not exactly true, but longtime friends, Anita Gillette and Penny Fuller have, in fact, followed similar career paths, both starting in the chorus, eventually playing the same role at different times.

In a follow-up to their 2013 presentation Sin Twisters, on Wednesday night at Feinstein's/54 Below, the two show biz veterans offered stories from the Broadway trenches, songs from their musical history and affectionate one-upmanship, again deftly directed by Barry Kleinbort. (The title is a spoonerism of Twin Sisters--a transposing of the initial sounds or letters of words.)

Though about a third of the musical numbers and several stories are repeated from the previous show, they sail through a second outing. Among these, "Sistah" (Quincy Jones/Jeremy Lubbock/Ron Pemberton) and "Pack Up Your Sins and Go to the Devil" (Irving Berlin), are particularly successful. Gillette remains as bubbly as champagne and can sex up a stage. Fuller is more like a fine martini. She internalizes and implies rather than visibly demonstrating. With Paul Greenwood as Musical Director on piano, arrangements are part music hall, part honky-tonk, and terrific fun. A too brief solo by bassist Ritt Henn is evocative and cool.

Also of this ilk is "Oh, Gee" (Bill Jacob/Patti Jacob from Jimmy). As a chorus girl in Texas Guinan's nightclub, Gillette uses her expressive face and whole body to manifest the appealing character. Oh Gee, gimme a little hint/Were you ever married to me? Gillette and Fuller might consider a show rooted in depictions of, and original material from the 1920s and '30s, torch and chorine numbers at which they apparently excel.

The ladies, actresses as well as vocalists, exude warmth and sincerity. Both perform ballads as well as up-tempo selections. Fuller's "Make the Man Love Me" (Arthur Schwartz/Dorothy Fields from A Tree Grows in Brooklyn) brims with urgency. One can palpably feel the lump in her throat and tension in the plea. Gillette's "Spring Can Really Hang You Up the Most" (Fran Landesman/Tommy Wolf) is sensitive, wistful. Unwilling to let go of described feelings, s's are elongated. The upturning of a palm on her knee speaks volumes. Piano contributes immeasurably.

There are funny, professional, and personal ("he chased me around a table") references to Harold Arlen, Yip Harburg, Irving Berlin, Cy Coleman, and Arthur Schwartz, among others. We learn both artists married and divorced doctors. "Like my mother always said, if it has tires or testicles, you're going to have trouble with it," Gillette quips. "Our careers were not deemed to be respectable," Fuller says, "My husband wouldn't allow me back on the stage after we were married. He didn't understand my need to be creative."

This leads into Fuller's rendition of "Finishing the Hat" (Stephen Sondheim from Sunday in the Park with George). With as much articulation in her hands as voice, the performer inhabits his lyric. You can say to yourself /Well, I give what I give . . . is rife with passion. When she maps the sky we see her see it. Look I made a hat/Where there never was a hat! is pleased, satisfied, a little surprised.

A medley from Cabaret--both actresses played Sally Bowles--includes Fuller's spot-on imitation of Lotte Lenya, the rolled r, ersatz British accents, some infectious choreography, and brief vocal participation by Greenwood who can sing. The title song arrives like Gillette and Fuller's anthem.

The show closes with a version of Cole Porter's "You're the Top" in thanks to audience/fans. Written by Kleinbort, the clever lyric includes such as You're . . . The Twilight Saga, Lady Gaga, Häagen-Dazs® . . . A New York cabbie, Downtown Abby, Hamilton . . .

Spending time with Anita Gillette and Penny Fuller, sharing talent, wit, exuberance, and femininity is a genuine pleasure. The show is well put together and musically accomplished.

My single caveat is the unwarranted addition of a laundry list of awards and credits late in the piece.

Photos by Maryann Lopinto

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