Review: At Dr. Phillips Center, TOOTSIE Brings Broadway Back... and 1980s Gender Ideas Too

TOOTSIE opens like a show custom-made for welcoming Broadway back to Dr. Phillips Center. Sun-sized spotlights dance across a glamorous curtain so heavy, aged, and red that Ethel Merman might emerge from behind it. A commanding overture roars out of the orchestra pit as the lights dim, the blaring brass telling all who can hear it: "Broadway's back, baby!"

It feels good to be here. The Walt Disney Theater has never looked better. And from what I remember of the 1982 movie that inspired it, TOOTSIE ought to have all the heart, substance, and sequins we hope for from the Great White Way.

Sadly, TOOTSIE isn't on a roll for long.

With a book by the same scribe who gave us Sharpay's Fabulous Adventure and Teen Beach 2, the show's brand of comedy is unabashedly broad. Maybe that's not a surprise. After all, its roots are in a comedy - and a culture - that saw a man in a dress as a droll.

1982's Tootsie cast Dustin Hoffman as Michael Dorsey, an out-of-work actor who disguises himself in drag to land a soap opera gig. It's a high-concept comedy aimed at early-80s America, generally regarded as a well-meaning if muddled sendup of soap operas and sexism alike.

39 years later, this show - hot off its 2019 Broadway debut - is still looking for the same laughs. (And hey, on opening night in Orlando, it got them.) But those hoping for substance will find little beyond the staples of screwball: gender mix-ups, masquerades, farcical confusion, and jokes that rely almost entirely on stereotype as their source of "truth."

The show's sense of humor plays out along these lines in one scene after another: He's a man, but he's dressed like a woman. Now all his guy friends want to sleep with him. Yikes and LOL! Sure hope they don't walk in while he's taking off that dress!

Much has changed in our culture since Dustin Hoffman donned that iconic wig and matching red heels. Even back then, before anyone in New York or LA had heard of "cis," critics questioned whether the show was sending the right message. Here in 2021, opening night's audience response seems to split along an age divide, but it's the Tootsie generation that bought the bulk of the seats.

To its credit, the stage show does add dialogue acknowledging cultural evolution. Michael's roommate, upon learning of his rouge-y ruse, is appalled by the #MeToo of it all. Lip service is paid, in fleetingly effective fashion, to homophobia, transphobia, the gender pay gap, white male privilege, and more. Clearly, it's an attempt at a mea culpa and at modernizing the source material to reflect our times.

But when all is said and done, after the big speeches are made and the morals have been imparted, TOOTSIE's 1982 DNA proves inextricable. Its parting lesson is fundamentally that women should be women and men should be men. The show's progressivism is limited to a fairly surface-level, lighthearted second-wave feminism that never rises above a "very special episode" of any '80s sitcom. (Indeed, Michael's apartment set looks strikingly sitcomish, and all the dialogue there fits the bill.)

The problem is most evident not with Michael but rather with two supporting characters in his orbit. Sandy, the ex-girlfriend still hung up on him, is a neurotic dumb blonde who lives in perpetual hysteria. She is vapid, overly emotional, and entirely dependent on Michael for any sense of self-worth. A female character this under-written, one-dimensional, and stereotypically unstable would be a travesty in any show (though far from uncommon), but it's especially grievous in TOOTSIE, given its purportedly pro-feminist themes.

Similarly, Michael's forever-shirtless costar Max, who finds himself irresistibly attracted to Michael (whom he believes is an actress named Dorothy), is clearly coded as gay but being too dumb to realize it. It's bad enough that Max's sexuality is treated as one-dimensional and a running joke. But then, at the moment that should be his breakthrough, his reaction to the big reveal is one of repugnance. After following that thread across two acts, TOOTSIE summarily abandons the subplot with little more than a #nohomo whoops.

But for all its mishandling of gender, TOOTSIE is at its best when Michael is in that dress. As Michael in men's clothing, Drew Becker curiously overacts every scene, quite literally shouting most of his dialogue, not only when the Michael character is failing at auditions but even when he is at rest in his own residence. But his Dorothy is more grounded and consistently compelling.

Becker is one of several strong singers in the non-Equity cast. Ashley Alexandra wows with every note as Julie, Michael's hoodwinked love interest. And while Payton Reilly may be saddled with a half-baked character, her command of a tongue-tying lyric would make Newsies' Katherine Plummer proud. It's a shame composer/lyricist David Yazbek hasn't equipped them all with more memorable songs.

Special note goes to Jared David Michael Grant, whose performance as Michael's roommate Jeff is so wry, knowing, and in touch with the real world that it illuminates the exaggerated affect of those around him.

The ensemble is tasked with serving as a sort of Greek chorus that occasionally breaks the fourth wall, but those meta moments are so brief and infrequent that they never amount to much.

Alas, TOOTSIE may not be the best Broadway has to offer, but after nearly two years away from the Dr. Phillips stage, any show that brings actors together for story, song, and dance is cause for celebration. And the show does find ways to appease the diehard theatre lovers among us. Those reasons, coupled with a desire to support the arts, are justification enough for heading to Dr. Phillips Center, where proof of full Covid vaccination and face coverings are required for all patrons. The show runs through November 7th. Get your tickets on the official tour website or at the Dr. Phillips box office.

What do you think of TOOTSIE on tour? Let me know on Twitter @AaronWallace.

Photography Credit: Photos copyright Evan Zimmerman/MurphyMade, 2021, courtesy of the Dr. Phillips Center for the Performing Arts.