Entertainment Criticism

Elizabeth Ardent

Pride and Prejudice | by Jon Jory | Belmont University Troutt Theatre

As Elizabeth Bennet (Brianne Angarole) sits in the picturesque atmosphere of her family’s nineteenth century drawing room, I couldn’t suppress images of a giddy Carrie Bradshaw downing cosmos and dishing with her girl posse on the latest members of the male gender to infect her life. Jane Austen’s provincial England in Pride and Prejudice may be far removed by time and distance from the glam 5th Ave. of Carrie and Co., but the story of the Bennet girls’ seemingly endless string of romantic plights might very well put anything on HBO to shame.

To be fair, this isn’t exactly Jane Austen’s England – it’s Jon Jory’s. Adapted from the 1813 classic with wit to spare, this Pride and Prejudice gives its audience all the juicy relational drama of the original story without the dedication it takes to make it through the novel. I’m not gonna lie: I put it down after the third chapter.

Jory’s frequent use of direct address immediately enlivens what would otherwise be the prosaic ramblings of Austen and gives her characters a spiffy 20th century sparkle. The audience does not simply eavesdrop on the misadventures of Elizabeth – they act as her confidant in times of despair and confusion. As she ponders a recent encounter with suitor-of-the-week Mr. Wickham (Joshua Wenger), her audible inner voice bleeds seamlessly into a conversation with her sister Jane (Joanna Rolan). The same vulnerability she entrusts to her family the playwright also bestows upon the viewer. It’s a clever technique that manages not to wear out its welcome. And, let’s face it, Elizabeth needs us.

For starters, she has the conniving Miss Bingley (Brittany Bagwell) to offer her advice “as a friend” when the girl’s best intentions are the last thing on her mind. There is also the small issue of her good friend Charlotte (Hannah Miller) eventually shacking up with her would-be fiancé.

Which brings us to the men her life. To say this girl has boy trouble would be an understatement. First there is Mr. Collins (Tommy Wallace), who’s pretty much a Steve Urkel on the geek scale, set back a few centuries and sans suspenders. A clergyman by trade, Collins is a meandering, if eligible, patron of Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Then we have Wickham, a sometimes soldier (full-time jerk) whose chief interest seems to be breaking hearts of the Bennet variety.

But chief on the list is the dashing Mr. Big Darcy (Benjamin Reed), a Byronic hero whose chipped shoulder would be more adequately described as a crater. Elizabeth and Darcy’s is a relationship of fiery intensity though one would never know it by his penchant for choosing romantic conversation topics like her social inferiority. Sounds like a real winner, right? The genius of their interplay (and for this we have Austen to thank) is not what they say to each other, but rather what they fail to say. Darcy to Elizabeth at a social gathering: “Ms. Bennet, I had not hoped to meet you here.” Translation: “Ms. Bennet, I had hoped to meet you here.” Elizabeth on the opposite sex: “I am very sick of men in general.” Translation: “I really like this one guy but I’m not entirely sure if he likes me back.” Near the end of the first act, the two stand across the bare stage from each other with only fathoms of cascading space to separate them. That one image is indicative of their entire relationship (so I suppose we should also thank a bit of good blocking in addition to Ms. Austen).

Even though the labyrinthine plot can become a headache at times (Mr. Darcy sent who to check on whatshisname and that other sister?), Prejudice is still a story of extremely relatable characters. Ever displaying the tried and true Tia/Tamara friendship she has with her sister, Jane refuses to celebrate her offer of marriage before confirming Elizabeth’s well being. And Mr. and Mrs. Bennet (Richard Northcutt and Wesley Paine, respectively) are the quintessential overprotective parents. One could almost imagine him pulling out the shotgun to see if it will scare away gentleman callers or her writing little notes on napkins and stuffing them into the bottom of brown paper lunchsacks. We know these people.

And at the center of it all is Lizzie who only asks for “the felicity of a marriage which true affection can bestow.” She wants authentic, reciprocal love and would give the world to have a husband she can esteem. Sound familiar? And all this without a sex column or a pair of Manolo Blahniks. Imagine that.

Sister Act

Margot at the Wedding | Nicole Kidman | Written and Directed by Noah Baumbach

Why is it that watching a Noah Baumbach film makes me feel icky on the inside? Believe me, I tried to find a more sophisticated word than icky as Baumbach’s pics have a sophistication about them, a brooding intellectualism that certainly deserves more literate diction than icky. But that’s exactly how I feel: icky.

Margot at the Wedding, Baumbach’s latest tale of familial dysfunction and multidimensional self-loathing, casts a mousy Nicole Kidman as the titular character, a pill-popping, wine-guzzling serpent who takes her young son Claude (Zane Pais) along for the ride to the impending nuptials of her sister Pauline (Jennifer Jason Leigh). The latter sister has settled on marrying Malcolm (Jack Black), a starving artist who has inexplicably managed to get pudgy. Margot’s disapproval of the union is only the tip of the iceberg of friction between her and her arguably warmer sibling, a fact made clear in the first minute of the film. Why in the world would Pauline marry someone she has only known only a year? Clearly, Margot knows the secret to relational success, evidenced by her crumbling marriage to Jim (John Turturro).

It’s not so much the polluted family politics that make Margot increasingly uncomfortable to take in – that is actually the film’s stronger suit. Rather, it is Baumbach’s uncompromising, gritty focus on deception, infidelity, hatred, depression, addiction and almost every other entry in Webster’s not-yet-published Dictionary of Complicated Adult Relationships that leaves the viewer feeling altogether unsettled. Much like he did in the 2005 divorce saga The Squid and the Whale, Baumbach has penned another witty, dark investigation into the pitfalls of vulnerability aimed directly at a mature audience.

What has changed from his last outing, however, is the welcome inclusion of blatant comic relief resulting primarily from Black’s understated portrayal of a perverted bum who has no concept of how lucky he is to be marrying Jennifer Jason Leigh. He gets laughs from comments about his greasy mustache. Put a mallet in his hand and he ends a pleasant croquet game with fits of rage and f-bombs permanently in tow. Black’s excellent comic timing is best used in this type of moody realism where he can pepper the otherwise morose atmosphere with little globs of sunshine. Elsewhere, his purely dramatic roles seem contrived and his comedic efforts are typically obnoxious.

The most engrossing aspect of the film and, truly, the best performances come from the interplay between Kidman and Leigh. The writer and indeed Kidman’s perpetual likability would have the audience believe that Margot is the good cop in this situation, traveling to her sister’s wedding simply to mollify the tragically unhinged bride-to-be. Yet, as the story unfolds, there are increasing indications that it is Kidman who is the true basket case of the family (if we can really assign that crown to a sole member). Their recent estrangement began because Margot used explicit details of Pauline’s difficulties with her previous husband in a story she later published in “The New Yorker.” It was because of Margot’s betrayal that her marriage failed. Margot also snoops about her sister’s belongings to get some extra dirt on good ole sis, only to swipe her meds and grow jealous of her most recent romance with Malcolm. She even spills the beans of her sister’s pregnancy to her own daughter Ingrid (Flora Cross) before Pauline has the chance to do so herself.

Kidman gives an exquisitely affected performance as a would-be polished academic who manages to eschew any admiration directed toward her via frequent meltdowns and spurts of searing bitterness. She is fragile and inconsistent but still manages to command the screen with her firm resolve. Some of her most compelling moments are with Pais as her son whom she mercilessly criticizes only to deflect the criticisms aimed at her. Theirs is a relationship of almost disturbing proximity which becomes all the more evident as Pauline deftly inserts a wedge between the two in order to get back at her sister.

Particular attention should be paid to the work of cinematographer Harris Savides who has given the film an unfinished, gloomy quality to further emphasize the harsher elements of Baumbach’s storyline. When Margot snatches her spare writings away from her eavesdropping son or sister because the material within is too raw, one cannot help but consider the action useless because the entire movie is an unauthorized peek at the same emotionally crippled individual.

I wouldn’t label Baumbach’s work here (or anywhere else for that matter) entertaining, but it is certainly compelling in its honesty. How else are you supposed to portray the painful intricacies of dealing with one’s own family? He does an expert job of creating situations in which the lines are blurred – both sides can defend their points with complete conviction, tears in their eyes and still escape from confrontations unsuccessful. It’s an unseemly truth that the ones we love the most are the same ones we feel the deepest hatred for. Popcorny fun? Nope. Relevant to just about everyone’s life? You betcha.

Fish Out of Water

The Little Mermaid | Lunt-Fontanne Theatre

I can answer all of your questions with one simple word: Heelys. That’s right, the rollerblade-shoe hybrid. The aquatic creatures in Disney’s new stage adaptation of The Little Mermaid do not fly across the stage Mary Martin style nor do they inhabit a colossal Cirque du Soleil tank. They perform (or rather infer) all of their swimming by strapping on those roller skate wannabes that have been exciting hyperactive children and frustrating unsuspecting pedestrians for the past seven or eight years.

The way in which director Francesca Zambello has orchestrated her actors through various states of submersion will inevitably invite comparisons to Julie Taymor’s avant-garde staging of The Lion King more than a decade ago. Taymor delved deeply into the earthy African roots of King’s story, ensconcing her show in a tribal vibe complemented by the landscape of the African savannah. It seems the richest source material Zambello has been able to draw from is the sample color wheel at her local Lowe’s.

Because that’s the one thing you’re bound to be impressed with when you see Mermaid – its vibrant pool of rich color. Searing crimson sunsets give way to the appropriately flowing aquamarine tones of the underwater scenes. It’s easy to see how Zambello’s sizable resume of operatic productions has influenced her take on this story, surely one of the most lucrative properties in the Disney canon. The stage is empty save a rotating repertoire of colossal set pieces that she trots onstage for one musical number and then whips off for the next. Ariel (Sierra Boggess) sits in a big cove that looks like it was shipped in from Orlando. Her evil auntie Ursula (Sherie Rene Scott) rests in an orb-like throne with giant tentacles to suggest she is an octopus even though she does not look like one. Part of the ingenuity behind Taymor’s set was the way set pieces seamlessly blended into one another from one scene to the next, further emphasizing that show’s circle of life theme. Mermaid’s visual aesthetic plays more like a very pretty theme park ride, jarring and overflowing with color, only reminding the audience they are watching the latest show from Disney rather than a piece of well-crafted theater (which, by the way, is not a good thing).

Oh, I almost forgot – there’s a story somewhere in there, too. The youngest of King Triton’s (Norm Lewis) seven daughters, Ariel is a plucky mer-teenager who likes pushing the limits and going up to the surface to feel closer to the human world with her sidekick Flounder (played at this performance by J.J. Singleton). She rescues a prince who fancies himself a sailor (Sean Palmer) when his boat capsizes, but her father refuses to allow the girl to see him again thus assigning Jamaican lobster Sebastian (Tituss Burgess) babysitting duty.

Go-to Disney composer Alan Menken was rehired to pen the music for the additional tunes while Glenn Slater was tapped to provide the new lyrics (Howard Ashman wrote the originals). Of course, the best tunes are the five holdovers from the animated film which have the advantage of already being ingrained in the audience’s subconscious. Despite the listless staging of the number, Ariel’s Act I anthem “Part of Your World” still soars with requisite charm and energy especially in the hands of Boggess’ excellent voice. And “Under the Sea” (which won the 1989 Academy Award for Best Original Song) is still a funky, jubilant jam bolstered mainly by the performance of Burgess.

The newer songs, though not as immediately appealing, are adequate additions to the resplendent canon of hummable Disney songs. Menken has crafted a lovely little quartet between Triton, Eric, Ariel and Sebastian (”If Only”) as the meatiest number of the second act, exploring the varying strands of emotional longing within each character. Scott makes ample use of her superb comic timing in Ursula’s showcase number “I Want the Good Times Back.” Whereas the film Ursula was a menacing creature of behemoth proportions, the comparatively slender Scott plays her more as Ethel Merman with a bone to pick. It’s an odd (if shamelessly entertaining) choice that manages to give the production a couple of laughs.

Which brings me to this show’s main problem: it’s not very much fun. While Zambello’s visual creations may not be the most consistent, at least she’s trying. But Doug Wright’s book earns no such excuse. The funniest moments in the show are still Menken’s songs. (Chef Louis’ suppertime gem “Les Poissons” was the only moment in the show that caused me to laugh out loud.) Maybe Wright should have taken a cue from the latest film offering from Disney, Enchanted. Its self-deprecating vibe would have worked perfectly for Mermaid which will probably delight the kids with its bright imagery but leave the parents a trifle bored. Example Prince Eric line to King Triton: “Are you friend or foe? [. . .] You really are her father?” Blech. Perfect rejoinder: “But you’re black.” Ha!

Tara Rubin’s camp deserves a hefty bit of credit for the show’s minor successes because Boggess is the perfect fit for the vivacious Ariel. She fuses a spunky grace into all of her scenes, though less pronounced in her underwater bits as she scoots her way across the stage. The real fun comes at the beginning of Act II after Ariel has lost her voice – Boggess still commands the stage despite the fact that she has no lines. Scott, as well, pulls off a memorable performance in spite of her bland material.

So the search continues. Disney Theatrical has produced an ambitious addition to its line of stage productions, but this Little Mermaid is still too stilted both visually and structurally to merit substantial praise. No doubt they’ll continue exhausting their catalog until they find the new millennium’s next stage blockbuster. Let’s just hope it’s more fun than this.