Theater review: '42nd Street'

 “42nd Street” is Manatee Players’ latest production. This 1980 Broadway musical is based on a 1933 movie about a Broadway musical. You’d think it’s a typical (if not archetypical) backstage musical. Look close, and it’s not so typical. On the surface, it’s all about putting on a show. But it’s really about getting paid.

1933 is just a few short years away from the Crash. After years of making other people rich, Broadway impresario Julian Marsh (Alan Tulin) wants to make himself rich. That means putting out one last Broadway moneymaker (aka “Pretty Lady”) while he’s still got it in him. A small army of chorines, actors and stagehands greet the news with joy. “Pretty Lady!” means we’re going to eat! (Not just a figure of speech. The ingénue collapses in the first act because she’s gone two days without a meal.)

So, they all get to work. It’s the height of the Depression—but they’re anything but depressed. Manic is more like it. They’re going to tap dance the Depression away! They’re going to defeat it with grit, optimism and can-do spirit!

Aside from that, expect no surprises in the plot. You’ve seen it a million times. Peggy Sawyer (Peggy Sawyer) arrives from Nowheresville, PA. Against all odds, she winds up in the chorus for a major Broadway production. After much hard work and several plot complications, Peggy breaks the leading lady’s ankle. After being temporarily fired, she gets rehired as the new leading lady. (What are the odds?) The show goes on and it’s a smash. Everybody gets paid and everybody eats.

Sarah Cassidy’s Peggy exudes the appropriate gee-whiz quality of a small town kid in the Great White Way. Michelle Anaya’s Dorothy is a diva on the downhill side with a gift for sarcasm. (The character’s supposedly past her prime. Anaya obviously isn’t.) Tulin’s Marsh isn’t the dictatorial director of the movie; he’s more like a tough-as-nails Sargent from a W.W.II who rallies his troops under withering enemy fire. The man can sing too, and brings down the house with his rendition of “Lullaby of Broadway” and “42nd Street.” Brian Chunn’s Billy Lawlor is a live wire. Alex Topp is funny as Dorothy’s sugar daddy; John Andruzzi is too, as her secret sugar. Christina Capehart, Joseph Rabella, and Angelo Jasa all get a chance to shine—as Anytime Annie, the dance captain, and the choreographer respectively. Kyle Ann Lacertosa and Bert Barry make for a memorable team of writers—although one song points out that nobody remembers the writers. And that’s just a sample of the thugs, waiters, dancers, and street people featured in this large cast production.

Director and choreographer Rick Kerby gives you everything but the kitchen sink. Peggy’s the main story. As a director, he keeps your eye on that ball, while making all the little stories swirling around her sparkling clear.

As a choreographer, Kerby keeps up the fancy footwork. Rat-a-tat tap dancing is the main attraction. The athletic young cast makes it look easy—when you know it’s anything but. Usually, three tap numbers is the most you’ll get. Here, it’s number after number—combined with backflips, splits, you name it. It’s highly entertaining and made me feel tired just watching. Kerby also offers several loving homages to Busby Berkeley’s pulchritudinous permutations in the original movie. Great stuff, except for one bit. A mirror tries to capture the feel of Berkeley’s leggy choreography in a number where the dancers lie on the stage making kaleidoscopic patterns. The effect doesn’t quite work—because the mirror’s at an angle. (Aim a camera straight down at the stage, and project the results on a screen. Just saying.)

The songs serve up a main course of relentless optimism, with a side order of sly and sexy. “Shuffle off to Buffalo,” for example. (Gee, how do you shuffle on a train?) Other hits include “42nd Street,” “We’re in the Money,” and Lullaby of Broadway.” Hits I can hum, written when my father was a toddler. Not bad. Great work from musical director Rick Bogner and the house band.

Becky Evans’ costumes are period-appropriate without being overdone or trite. Michael Newton Brown’s sets evoke the splashy backdrops of Berkeley’s production numbers. But they stay in the background and never distract. Brown’s design always serves the show. And a great show it is.

“42nd Street” is such an icon of American theater, that it’s surprising to see it with fresh eyes. It’s really a love letter to the chorus girls—and the working stiffs who make live theater happen. Their Broadway ballyhoo isn’t art for art’s sake; it’s art for survival’s sake. It’s all about doing your job and doing it better than the other guy.

The folks at Manatee Players did a great job on this one.