Nothing saps the tension out of the life or death final moments of a musical drama like giving away the ending in the opening scene. While Andrew Lippa's substantially revised version of his 2000 musical The Wild Party, mounted this week via Encores! Off-Center, doesn't spill every bean right from the start, audience members can be forgiven for mentally waving their hands in a "get on with it" gesture once the drawn out gunplay commences late in the second act.
The musical is based on Joseph Moncure March's 1928 banned-in-Boston narrative poem about the abusive relationship between two Jazz Age entertainers and their attempt to let off steam by throwing a gin-soaked hedonist bash, but Lippa's revisions bid farewell to the song that originally opened the show with the source's first line, "Queenie was a blonde and her age stood still. And she danced twice a day in vaudeville."
Perhaps the reason is that Queenie now appears to be the star of a swanky floor show - choreographed with erotic undulations by Sonya Tayeh - partnered with her red-nosed clown lover Burrs. The song, a naughty Adam and Eve tribute titled "A Wild, Wild Party," originally appeared in a different context later in the show.
Fair or not, Lippa's work will always be compared with Michael John LaChiusa and George C. Wolfe's same-named musical based on March's poem that opened on Broadway shortly after his finished its Off-Broadway run. While LaChiusa and Wolfe expanded March's story as a commentary on how race relations, bootleg liquor and changes in popular entertainment were shaping New York into a city that claimed its own moralistic code, Lippa focuses on four main characters in a sexual soap opera that doesn't develop enough to sustain interest for two full acts.
The schizophrenic score contains some dynamite pull-out numbers but the continual bouncing back and forth from period syncopation to more contemporary sounds decreases the significance of the story's 1920s setting.
Fortunately, director Leigh Silverman's concert production is a solid effort, featuring some outstanding singing and acting by a top-notch cast. Poured into a shimmering Jean Harlow gown that accents every angular thrust, Sutton Foster's Queenie is a hardened vamp who travels with her own spotlight. Her mounting need for excitement as she sings "Raise The Roof" is genuinely thrilling and her steely defense of her relationship with Burrs in "Maybe I Like It This Way" deftly explores her complex desires. Her ice slowly melts as she gets acquainted with an unexpected guest named Black, who, aside from being strikingly handsome, appears to be a kind and sensitive gentleman. Foster displays the transition with subtle finesse. Lippa gives her a new song to finish the piece, but the lyric isn't strong enough for the moment and it suggests that the character has decided on a questionable way to escape the life she's created for herself.
As Burrs, Steven Pasquale's powerful baritone captures the anguish of his otherwise gruff and brooding character while playing the clown's on-stage moments for impish lasciviousness. Though the underwritten Burrs is never sympathetic, Pasquale manages to bring up textures that hint at an internal struggle to control his abusiveness.
Brandon Victor Dixon's Black is cool and highly polished in contrast to the woman who brought him to the party, Queenie's coked-up, oversexed pal Kate. Joaquina Kalukango is a roaring, gritty powerhouse in the role, especially when she opens the second act with "The Life Of The Party," an anthem to fast living that thinly veils self-loathing.
Crowbarred into the festivities is the score's best selection, "An Old-Fashioned Love Story," sung by the sex-starved lesbian Madelaine, a party guest unsuccessfully on the prowl. The clever number combines a classic vaudeville style with a lyric that would get any vaudeville house raided. Miriam Shor aces the number brilliantly with spot-on comic timing and engaging breakings of the fourth wall. Perhaps the most welcome revision for the show would be to find an excuse to give her another number.
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