No one really expected the L.A. production of “The
Producers” to eclipse or even match the original Broadway
show that nabbed 12 Tonys, breaking “Hello
Dolly’s” 1964 all-time record. After all, this is Los
Angeles ““ the only Great White Way we have is the motto
spoken by Beverly Hills debutantes.
And naturally, this production, starring Jason Alexander and
Martin Short, doesn’t quite step up to the original stellar
team that took Broadway (and ticket sales) by storm. But those were
some gargantuan shoes to fill, and Alexander, who stepped into
Nathan Lane’s role as the smarmy Broadway producer, knew it,
interjecting in the middle of a song, “Hey, I’m no
Nathan Lane.”
But after all, who is? Lane, with his impeccable timing and
quirky hilarity, has an electric stage presence that could light up
all the signs of Time Square. Unfortunately for Alexander, who
seems to fit best in supporting roles like George Costanza in
“Seinfield,” his theatricality wasn’t enough
kindling to spark a flame.
Short, on the other hand, with his knack for slapstick and
over-the-top comedy, commandeers the stage. Except, he takes it a
bit too far. Going into high-pitched squeals and convulsions when
his security blanket is taken away, the intermission is a break for
the audience from his hyperactivity.
That’s not to say that this is a mediocre show; it’s
difficult not to get caught up in the roaring laughter of the
brilliantly ridiculous, irreverent story written by Mel Brooks that
has geriatric women see-sawing in “Little Old Lady
Land,” swastika-wearing birds flapping to a crazed
Nazi’s song and dance, and of course, the
musical-within-a-musical, “Springtime for Hitler,”
which shows Adolf gayly sashaying while the dancers cancan into a
swastika formation.
Based on Brooks’ 1968 cult film, the basic story itself
isn’t anything especially original. Max Bialystock
(Alexander) is a down-and-out producer who meets the timid,
socially challenged tax accountant Leopold Bloom (Short). Together,
they devise a plan to overfund a sure-to-fail play and take off
with the rest of the cash. It’s the oddball genius of Brooks
(who brought us such movies as “Spaceballs” and
“Young Frankenstein”) that mixes the old
“Follies-style” Broadway with a screwy, yet deft
eccentricity only he could create.
While this play is definitely worth a night out, opt for the
cheapest seats ($25) because after paying $95 per ticket for this
supposed “Broadway Revolution,” you might feel like Max
Bialystock and Leo Bloom swindled some hard-earned cash out of you,
too.