Review: INTO THE WOODS at Opera House/Kennedy Center

In the first act of Stephen Sondheim and James Lapine's 1987 musical Into the Woods, numerous characters from familiar fairy tales go through the familiar events of their tales with a narrator (in this production, the energetic David Patrick Kelly) narrating and a with a few interpolated characters along for the ride. In act two, all the familiar happy endings go south, and the characters must actually figure out to to team up and learn how to live in the real world with its uncertainties, unpredictabilities, and mixtures of joy and sorrow. This touring revival, which recently left Broadway, runs about 2¾ hours, but time flies. The genius of the show is the turning of each character inside out and the seeing of how they tick, what they choose, why they act, and how they feel. Sondheim's songs reveal nearly everything a sentient being can come up with, and Lapine's book completes him. The singer-actors in this production do both creators proud.

Gavin Creel and Andy Karl, Cinderella's and Rapunzel's princes respectively, twice sing what can be thought of as a ballad for male bimbos. Their blended baritones in "Agony" sound as gorgeous as "Some Enchanted Evening" and as idiotic as "Dick in a Box" or "This Old Man." Jason Forbach's spectacular, conservatory-trained singing brings depth to his role and to this production. As the Baker, Forbach always sings in an ensemble or a duet, but his voice and his acting skills mark every number he's in, and he's in many. (Please, someone revive Carousel so we can hear Forbach sing "Soliloquy.") Stephanie J. Block and Montego Glover (Baker's Wife and Witch) are vocal powerhouses who can belt one minute and melt into head voice the next. Glover's "Children will Listen" carries many of the themes of Into the Woods, and Glover makes sure that audiences listen. And Block's thoughtfulness during "Moments in the Woods" provides a précis on the metaphorical nature of Sondheim and Lapine's forest. Diane Phelan's Cinderella skillfully blends a crystalline lyric soprano sound with the verbal skills of a born patter singer during lyrics such as, "Better stop and take stock/while you're standing here stuck/on the steps of the palace." (Bet you can't even say it; but Phelan sings the hell out of it.) Cole Thompson as Jack (of Beanstalk fame) sings well and acts very well. Of course, he has the best scene partner on the planet. His cow, Milky White, steals every scene she's in (and makes you miss her when she's not onstage). Designed by James Ortiz and operated by the gifted Kennedy Kanagawa, Milky has perfected such human traits as active listening and expressing intense physical affection with just the turn of the head. She also wags a mean tail; don't take your eyes off her, and welcome to Kanagawa.

Director Lear deBessonet has figured out how to make those two princes even dumber than they were to begin with by heightening their schtick. She's placed the orchestra (conducted by John Bell) upstage center, and thus internal bits of Jonathan Tunick's eloquent orchestrations are the more audible. And she's planted DC-based favorite Felicia Curry above the orchestra, giving her a mic of her own for one of her several roles, in this spot, the overbearing wife of the beanstalk's giant. During the ensemble numbers by the entire company, deBessonet organizes everyone by fairy tale into three clumps so that they can temporarily become triple threats and scoot from side to side, hoofing Lorin Latarro's perky choreography. Milky White, of course, out-hoofs the hoofers because she has four of them after all--um, hoofs.

Coordinated with those three groups are the three dollhouses that hang at the top of each act and change as the characters change. Scenic Designer David Rockwell thought of that and of the stately birch trees which make an elegant entrance and star as the titular forest. (To be sure, the stage manager probably just says, "cue number whatever--go." But at some point during the put-in, maybe somebody hollered, "Fly the trees." They're lovely; what they are is lovely.) Tyler Micoleau's lighting shows time of day by how those birches are lit; the background washes reveal and contribute to everyone's mood. Co-Sound Designers Scott Lehrer and Alex Neumann seem to have cracked the curse of the Kennedy Center Opera House sound system because every word could be heard (absolutely vital in a Sondheim show) and nothing was too loud. Each of Andrea Hood's costumes perfectly (and literally) suits the character wearing it; favorite: Nancy Opel's (Cinderella's stepmother) curved, taffeta skirt.

Speaking of Nancy Opel, it would take a feature-length article to lay out all the Tony, Drama Desk, Olivier, and Helen Hayes Awards won by the members of this gifted and talented company, not counting the Tonys that Lapine and Sondheim won in 1988 for Best Book and Best Score (awards NOT won that season by the show about the chandelier). On May 2, we'll find out whether this production will be nominated for some 2023 Tonys.

Whether it was a decision by Director deBessonet or an unimaginable mistake by Telsey Casting, one can quibble with the casting of an adult woman in the role of the teenage Little Red Riding Hood. One of Lapine and Sondheim's points in Into the Woods is that children grow into maturity and away from magical, fairy tale thinking by observing and listening to adults. Red can't evolve if she's already old enough to flirt with the wolves and other males. Choosing Katy Geraghty, a fine singer-actress, undermines such developmental moments revealed, for example, when Red, singing in "I Know Things Now," tells herself ". . . .to take extra care with strangers/even flowers have their dangers/and though scary is exciting/nice is different than good." Teen is different than grup.

There might be someone left in the DMV who has never seen Into the Woods even though it's been at the Kennedy Center more than once, and Signature has staged it many times. Find these people, and bring them with you because Milky White is no longer a rolling suitcase, but a living bovine who simply MUST be seen in motion, and because, you know, Sondheim. "Sometimes people leave you/Halfway through the wood./Do not let it grieve you,/No one leaves for good."

You have until March 19.

(photo by Matthew Murphy & Evan Zimmerman for MurphyMade)

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