Tuesday, March 3, 1998
‘Backstreet’ breaks musical traditions
THEATER Production proves size, spectacle not necessary for good
drama
By Cheryl Klein
Daily Bruin Senior Staff
First, kudos to the Santa Monica Playhouse for accepting the
challenge of staging an original musical production in a venue that
is tiny at best. Audiences tend to associate musical theater with
Andrew Lloyd Webber-style grandiosity – booming orchestras, falling
chandeliers and spectacular light shows put the theatrics in
theater.
Limited budgets push smaller theaters in the direction of
intimate, dialogue-based straight plays more often than not. So if
for no other reason than sheer determination, the Playhouse’s
production of "Backstreet," a world- premiere, nearly sung-through
period musical, stands out.
The dusky lights go up on a turn-of-the-century Jewish brothel
as lavishly costumed women appear one by one for "Ladies of the
Backstreet/Good Evening." The grabbing opening number introduces us
to Rivkele (Morgan Kibby), the teen-aged daughter of a bordello
owner known only as Uncle (John Waroff). She stares stoically from
an upstairs window, lamenting the life of purity her father is
determined she lead, as a silhouetted lady of the evening powders
herself behind a pink curtain below.
The number and those that follow quickly alleviate any doubt as
to whether the small playhouse, itself an alcove on the Promenade’s
backstreet, can pull together a full-fledged musical. Sadly,
though, "Backstreet" falls short when it comes to what small
theater is supposedly best at – depth and nuance.
The storyline is relatively predictable, though there is nothing
to say that an old story can’t be told again, provided it’s done
well. And in this case, that is debatable.
As Uncle tries, ironically, to sell his daughter into
respectability by waving her dowry in front of local young men,
Rivkele falls for Eli (Matt Wrather), fresh off the boat from
Russia and the nephew of aging prostitute Hindl. After an
annoyingly typical hate-at-first-sight introduction, it’s clear
they’ll end up together, though not without a lot of confusion and
tough decisions. Meanwhile, Hindl (Evelyn Rudie) aches to leave
Uncle’s stern supervision and open a house of her own with her
lover, Shloyme (Chris DeCarlo).
It’s been said that comedies end in weddings, tragedies in
funerals. "Backstreet" is on the verge of being a comedy as the two
couples tie the knot and break the glass at an impromptu wedding
toward the close of the show. But in a rather random effort to
declare itself a "serious" musical, the show takes a violent turn
in the last minutes.
This prompts Hindl to gushingly blurt the secret she’s alluded
to throughout. Yet the revelation is merely an anticlimactic
culmination of a plot device that wasn’t terribly suspenseful to
start with. If Shloyme didn’t have a problem marrying a prostitute,
what makes her (or us) think that he wouldn’t be understanding
regarding other matters?
But in the midst of a been-there-done-that storyline (think
"Gigi") and syrupy lessons (find a surrogate family and then stand
by them to the tearful end), a few solid performances and many
dazzling examples of musical beauty emerge.
Rudie and DeCarlo have obvious chemistry as the middle-aged
couple, their take-charge attitudes and resilient humor creating a
wizened sort of love. Rudie’s throaty, emotional belt also makes
her the strongest vocally, though Sheila Yates’ more traditional
clear soprano provides competition within the brothel.
But it is eighth-grader Kibby who frequently surprises the
audience with her maturity and range. She makes potentially trite
lines believable and spars convincingly with her father, the
appropriately stubborn and downtrodden Waroff. Thankfully, these
performances balance out the interchangeably bland ensemble of
prostitutes and Wrather’s overly innocent Eli.
As a musician, however, Wrather redeems himself. He and Rudie
have composed 18 immediately catchy, often powerful songs. The
stand-out number is Hindl’s second-act reflection on her reliance
on clients’ reassurances, "Reflections in Men’s Eyes." Sung in the
third person, the sad tale of dependence is reminiscent of "Chess."
"Someone Else’s Story," easily one of musical theater’s most moving
accomplishments. "Backstreet’s" lyrics are often overwhelmingly
poetic, conjuring images of rain-soaked cobblestone and forced
smiles encased in pink lace.
"Achel Pachel," the number which closes the first act, also
stands out, but only for its almost embarrassing departure from an
otherwise CD-worthy score. Though the entire show is smattered with
Yiddish and a few other numbers contain echoes of Klezmer, "Achel
Pachel" launches into unadulterated stereotype in a bid for humor
as the characters rattle off a Yiddish rhyme and do a ridiculous
dance with increasing rapidity (to the point where the cast itself
can’t keep up). It’s hard to decide whether to be offended at the
ethnic caricature or pitying that they had to revert to such
chaotic slapstick.
The musical clearly attempts to be sympathetic to the obstacles
Jews faced at the time, noting that prostitution was one of several
equally unsavory options for women (including arranged marriage and
sweatshop employment). At times, DeCarlo, Rudie and Wrather’s
script seems on the verge of making this point, but something
doesn’t quite ring true. How are we supposed to believe these women
are victims of circumstance when the story congratulates Rivkele
for staying "pure"?
Despite an often impressive score, a cleverly aesthetic set and
well-paced direction, "Backstreet" will have to revise its thematic
inconsistencies and lapses into the obvious before it can venture
past Fourth Street.
THEATER: "Backstreet" runs through April 26 at the Santa Monica
Playhouse, 1211 Fourth St. Tickets are $16 to $20 with discounts
for students. Rush tickets available on Fridays. Call (310)
394-9779, ext. 1.
Santa Monica Playhouse
Uncle (John Waroff, right) has some choice words for Shloyme
(Chris DeCarlo) in the musical production "Backstreet."