BWW Reviews: New Asian Tour of SATURDAY NIGHT FEVER

Photos: Franco Laurel

There is more in common between John Badham's and Ray Bradbury's FEVER than meets the eye.

Ray Bradbury--master tale weaver of American science fiction and all else weirdly fantastic in between--knew just the right dose of evil when he cast the all-too familiar, sometimes mild-mannered common fever as the primary antagonist in his 1948 short story "Fever Dream."

An alien bacteria--masquerading as the common fever--plot and scheme beneath the skin of 15-year-old bed-ridden Charles. This fever's voice dialogues directly with and exclusively to Charles' consciousness. It infiltrates the teenager's neuronal receptors, overrides his physiological systems--gaining complete control of all limbs, organs all the way down to the tiniest bodily functions. In the end, the fever stands victorious over Charles' final stronghold--the primal subconscious awareness that defines his very existence.

Tony Manero--of Atlantis Theatrical Entertainment Group's (ATEG) 2015 Asian touring production of SATURDAY NIGHT FEVER (SNF), which is based on John Badham's '70s landmark film of the same name--would have succumbed to the evil oblivion of his own fever had it not been for one simple--yet pivotal--plot deviation. The inevitable loss that awaited him is not alien but one all too familiar to all those coming of age--and it is through recognizing this evil that he realizes, it is better not to struggle against it but to just flow with it.

"You do not f*c# with the future, the future f*c#s with you!" so succinctly states a sage advice during SNF's opening scenes.

YOU MAKE TWICE AS MUCH BUT YOU BREAK YOUR BACK

Tony's ultimate struggle here [played by Broadway actor Brandon Rubendall] is against an evil exclusively encrypted in the youth's deceptive and deadly sense of illusory invincibility. This struggle is made even more lopsided by society's underhanded efforts at boxing individualities by luring the disillusioned into the comforts of the orthodox life--the resulting tragedy of such a struggle perfectly mirrored in the ripples of disenchantment caused by Tony's brother Frank Manero Jr. leaving the priesthood.

Tony refuses to believe that orthodox labor is all that there is to his young life and Stephanie Mangano, Tony's love interest, instinctively knows which buttons to push to send him into an existential crisis.

"You're a cliché Tony, you're nowhere," Mangano snaps at Tony in her trademark scoff.

But throughout all the insensitive jabs from Mangano and his family, Tony remains a cool visual contrast against the blue-collar drab, spouting choice invectives in his well-seasoned Brooklyn drawl as he tries hard to sound grown-up gibing with the show's token male chauvinist swine.

"I want to paint my wife's A#$ purple!" the swine says to Tony--matching his choice to Tony's dominant wardrobe coloring and the richest and dazzling royal hues used to near perfection by Broadway lighting designer Paul Miller.

Then again, Tony (a reluctant warrior trapped in a high-school dropout) does not come off as a protagonist whose biggest conflict is confusion and helplessness--owe it to the intricate architecture of Rubendall's characterization. He swings flawlessly (mirroring the master physicality of a seasoned acrobat) from channeling a whiny, pre-red-carpet-fame Justin Bieber to projecting the metrosexual, purple-clad king of local discotechque 2001 Odyssey. His countenance all-radiant with the diamond-in-the-rough gentility of bright-eyed Prince Ali Ababwa of Disney's "Aladdin."

It is this discombobulated mix of Tony's helplessness and his "pride versus purpose" complexes mixed in with his prom king bravado and classic James Dean Rebel tendencies that perhaps provided Rubendall a rich gallery of insights into characterization.

Had it not been for Tony's truckload of personal baggage, the expletive-spouting SNF would've otherwise presented an otherwise whiny, annoying, dance floor-crazy leading man.

Rubendall deftly maneuvers Tony's insecurities (heavily emphasized in his angst-filled post-pubescent lamentations) into a fluid and eloquent literary portrait of growing pains--all resonating from the theater stage in a multi-dimensioned portrayal which reverberates in each loop of "I'm Goin' Nowhere, Somebody Help me..." and the more dismal refrains of "Immortality."

THE BODIES, THE DRUGS, THE HEAT--OH MY

The classic hi-fi turntable (SNF's answer to Marty McFly's time-travelling '80s DeLorean) introduces the show with a feline adrenaline, flooding the spectator's senses with an in-your-face video projected montage of everything "New York" caught in the heydey of braw hair, bawdy fashion, and the baddest B of them all, The Bee Gees.

The moment a sliver of stage spotlight widens on the iconic silhouette of a swanky paintcan-wielding, disco teen prophet--Rubendall's swagified Tony--the estrogen-powered swoonometer inside The Theatre at Solaire spikes to an all-time high.

The phenomenon is sustained all throughout--courtesy of Rubendall's mad dancing skills and peaks dangerously off-scale when the "Broadway Bares" favorite strips down to his boxers in an onstage metrosexual grooming ritual for a night out with his boys.

"TONY" WILL DEFINITELY AGREE WITH THIS PRODUCTION'S BROOKLYN

Stage design by Tony winner David Gallo is in top functional form. His darkly descending Verrazano Narrows bridge is a faerie-lights-themed visual feast contrasting his gritty vision of '70s Brooklyn--one that is even more palpably infused into the theater's very air by the "easier-on-the-eyes" texture-centric costume design by Eric Pineda. Here, Pineda proves that there is sex appeal even in the superfluously modest hemlines of the '70s.

As a whole (except for the magnificently trained leads and featured dancers who create for themselves a slightly hyperbolic redefinition of the word "stunning") Vince Pesce's choreography is loose, genial, and breathable--especially for the semi-prolific dancers in the cast--which are but a few. Like almost all Rodgers and Hammerstein's tunes, some of Pesce's routines also sinisterly stay with you for hours and begs to be tried (at least once) in the mirrored lifts of The Theatre at Solaire during the 20-minute intermission--or far worse--for days after you have seen the production.

THE LEADING LADIES

Carla Laforteza - A Robust Bottle of Chateau Margaux

Playing dual roles that tie her mostly two key locations throughout the production (The Dining Room and 2001 Odyssey), the classic kitchen sink drama is Carla Guevara-Laforteza's strong suit here. It is without a doubt that she is a shoo-in for the role of purple-haloed diva, the Soul Train priestess to Jamie Wilson's DJ of 2001 Odyssey--but her Mrs. Manero is just silky magnificence.

She expertly chews round the edges of her juiciest lines, dramatically--at times comically-- enunciating from just the right angle for dramatic impact. You find her transitioning from a laidback incarnation of Fran Fine's flashy and loud-mouthed mother (Fran Drescher's The Nanny of '90s TV) to the downcast, bleary Agnes Taylor of 1950's Bette Davis in the Brooklyn-set melodrama of "The Catered Affair."

Mikkie Bradshaw - A Damsel in Desperation

Bradshaw is the top wide-eyed revelation as the ingenue struggling to break out of her shell. She brings to her Annette a redefinition to all that is typical to any standout performance. Her post-harassment acapella at the bridge draws even the most reluctant of audiences in--and it is for certain she won't find herself alone mourning the wounds brought on by her tragic affairs. Bradshaw--in this role--claims (and names) her own mini-spectrum among the delicate rainbow shades located somewhere in between Disney Princess Ariel and rebellious Jezebel.

Jenna Rubaii - The Vivacious Scarlett O'Hara Complex: A Pioneer in Friend Zoning

There is no questioning the leading lady magnetism to Jenna Rubaii's Stephanie Mangano--it envelops and draws in even the farthest spectator from the very first moment she is seen gliding effortlessly across the dance floor of 2001 Odyssey. She plays the role of the consummate sinless Salome hybrid to the hilt--a rare reverberation of the b!$ch leading lady ingénue, in the tradition of Scarlett O'Hara-- but with a more generous heaping of heart and genuine soul--that loathing her even for a passing second would seem impossible. Her stage movements alone--her extensions and plié--speak volumes in the endangered language of distilled Hepburn-esque elegance.

"Interesting yes, intelligent maybe... Yeah maybe interesting and yeah maybe intelligent," she says to Tony at one point--and no, one cannot be appalled by a brazen statement of such a scorching truth can they?

There is a nakedness to Rubaii's singing voice--as showcased in "What Kind of Fool"--making it almost painfully unbearable to listen to--but one just has to, for the sake of knowing how distilled remorse feels like against the ears.

BREAKING THROUGH THE HYPNOTIC DISCO BALL

This incarnation of SNF, directed by Bobby Garcia, speaks with a stronger message even more resounding than ever. Grammy-winning singer/songwriter and hip-hop/neo-soul master Lauryn Hill--who, just like the fictional Tony, was a product of urban streets--says it all in her 1999 hip-hop anthem "Everything is Everything."

"It seems we lose the game before we even start to play.

Who made these rules?

We're so confused, easily led astray."

The '70s had The Bee Gees lyrically philosophizing about social realities and injustices under the clever guise of disco. The '90s saw accolades heaped upon the spiritually enlightened, proverb-spouting Lauryn Hill and her record-setting, critically-acclaimed "Miseducation" album. But if by any chance that in this digital age--of auto-tuning and generic-sounding ditties--one should boldly call out an artist as a champion of social significance, can such a prophetic voice even make it to mainstream airwaves?

If such a voice does still exist but remains an elusive commodity, then it is high time to return to where its echoes last reverberated--within the sacred halls of the endangered bastions of the rebellious spirit of originality, the theater.

The theater has this kind of power--it breathes into the typically overlooked pop song a more resilient soul, materializing through a deeper exploration of a song's humanity and its rarely seen dimensions--pop songs that would normally be boxed as decorative confection.

From the onset, SNF single-mindedly sets into motion and encourages an open exploration of one of its more lasting social and cultural discussions by presenting an eerie verbal caricature of present-day female objectification made notorious and commonplace by the generic hip-hop/rap music video.

It is here that SNF finds its uncompromising voice--one translating magnificently from the silver screen to the theater stage without flinching in its portrayal of the generation's social and political maladies--female objectification and rape; ghetto wars and profiling; social climbing in corporate New York and middle class labor issues; and inadequate opportunities for education.

Brought to Asia by Atlantis Theatrical Entertainment Group (ATEG), Ten Bridges Media Corporation, and Robert Stigwood Organisation, SATURDAY NIGHT FEVER, the new Asian Tour, features Brandon Rubendall as Tony Manero, Jenna Rubaii as Stephanie Mangano, and Nick Varricchio as Double J and Tony understudy.

SATURDAY NIGHT FEVER also features a multinational cast that fuses together Broadway stars with Filipino talents such as Bibo Reyes (Bobby C), Jamie Wilson (Monty and Frank Manero), Rafa Siguion-Reyna (Frank Manero Jr.), and Carla Guevara-Laforteza (Flo Manero and Club Singer), among others.

SATURDAY NIGHT FEVER closes in Manila, Philippines today at The Theatre at Solaire Resort and Casino (ASEANA Avenue, Paranaque, Metro Manila).

Its Asian tour will play Istana Budaya (Jalan Tun Razak, Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia) from September 4 to 13 and MasterCard Theatres at Marina Bay Sands (10 Bayfront Ave., Singapore) from September 25 to October 4.

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