Nick Coleman

The Producers
by Mel Brooks

I’m really behind on my theatre reviews.

I saw The Producers last month, when several of the billed performers were out, but the replacements seemed to hold their own just fine. The show got off to what I thought was a rocky start with the opening number#–the two girls who opened the show ("Opening night, it’s opening night…") were: a) not in synch while dancing, b) not together when singing, and c) pronouncing the words in an extremely odd manner. I don’t know that I can describe it#–imagine if you will the word "night" pronounced with the mouth shaped as though saying the word "oh". That will give you some idea of the peculiarity involved.

I’m happy to say that beyond the opening number (and the reprise later in the show), I was entertained and enjoyed myself (when the reprise of "Opening Night" replayed the curious abnormalities shown in the First Act, I wondered it weren’t an accident but a built in part of the show).

The Producers goes about creating an experience that I can only describe as theatrical#–an experience that would not be possible if presented on film, or in another medium. In an era when entertainment is readily available to consumers at nearly all times, the theatre is struggling to redefine itself: what The Producers proves is that when the theatre embraces those aspects that make it unique, it serves a greater purpose than just entertainment. It is, for lack of a better phrase, a living experience. Film, and other "close-up" mediums, is much better at presenting reality than the stage#–because we can intimately encounter the performances, as though we are standing nearby. In all but the smallest houses, theatre struggles when asked to serve that purpose. The strength of the theatre lies in its unique ability to engage the audience#–something a film could never do.

The Producers embraces the "live" value of the stage, and takes advantage of moments that involve the audience directly (speaking to the audience, asides, reactions based on audience response). The result is a feeling, as an audience member, that you are fully engaged with what is happening on the stage. And that is a very exciting feeling. I am not big on audience participation and, thankfully, this show did not pander to the crowd in that way#–instead, it managed to make me feel a part of the show without ever taking me out of the comfort zone of being an observer. The unique, reactive events on stage were also enjoyable because those spontaneous moments were finite: once performed, they were gone. I know that the show I saw will never be seen again; each show, relying on audience response and the spontaneous moments of the performance, is unique unto itself. That is also exciting.

Several of the cast should be noted for outstanding performances: Roger Bart (Leo Bloom), Jonathan Freeman (Roger DeBris), Brooks Ashmanskas (Carmen Ghia), and Angie Schworer (Ulla). Where to start? Bart was especially endearing as Leo: in a role originated by Gene Wilder (and expounded by Matthew Broderick), it must be tempting to indulge in the tricks that worked effectively for the earlier performers. Bart did not do this. He brought an element to the character that I found very new and different (I did not see Broderick in the role, but he tends to play himself). His naivety played well throughout the show, and his eccentric, erratic voice and behavior lent an odd humor to what could essentially be the role of the "straight" man. His performance was all the better in light of the transformation from his role in television’s Desperate Housewives. Freeman was a gas in the role of the Grande Dame Queen, Roger. His physical appearance was so hyper-masculine that when he trotted about as the ultra-fem musical director I could not help but belly-laugh#–and he somehow brought it off without being stereotypical. The same was true for Ashmanskas as Ghia: the eccentric (I know I’m reusing adjectives, but there’s no better word) behavior he created for the character went far beyond any stereotype and arrived at its own realm of strangeness and oddity. Several (and I do mean several) times the performers lost their composure when Ashmanskas went off into his crazy antics (especially memorable was the scene in DeBris’s apartment involving the "Village People" wannabes). In the confines of this particular show, it was not only funny, but completely acceptable#–I actually hurt from laughing. And then there was Schworer. The role of Ulla is funny#–it’s written that way#–but it is also incredibly vocally demanding (she speaks in a pseudo Norse dialect), and physically intense (her dance sequences are some of the most impressive in the entire show). Schworer pulled it off in a manner that was not only technically impressive (holy cow what a voice!) but, even in its humor, sexy. That’s right. The tall, weird, funny-talking Norse bimbo willing to shake it was sexy. Schworer has played Ulla on tour and has clearly found the subtlety and softness in a role that could be played as clownish and broad. She was easily the best thing about the show (I still catch myself saying "Bialyshtock and Bleoom" to myself, and smiling#–a month later).

Of course, the set and technical aspects were incredible. A lot of the gags are dependent upon costume, set function, and props so their effectiveness is easy to overlook. The saluting Nazi pigeons was a highlight. The technical aspects are so essential that it’s really a testament to the performers that they didn’t let the accoutrements do the work for them. Even in scenes that relied on visual cues from the props, the actors (at least the principals) brought something to the table.

I caught myself wondering, midway through the "show-within-a-show" Springtime for Hitler, whether persons of Jewish heritage might be offended by The Producers. I haven’t really done any digging on the subject#–but it hit me during the performance that a sizable audience was laughing at a parody of one of the most violent and hated killers of all time. And I wondered to myself whether or not that is okay (morally). I still haven’t answered the question for myself (would I be so understanding of a song-and-dance parody of Osama Bin Laden and the 9-11 attacks?) but again, it’s a testament to the actors (and the writing) that such an ingrained-as-serious subject could be made to appear foolish and silly. In that respect, maybe it’s healthy#–laughing at the larger world-view and the futility of life.

The Producers on Broadway was a lot of fun, and incredibly entertaining#–worth both the time and the money to see it. Hopefully, when you go, the opening number won’t color the first ten minutes (and the last twenty), but that’s live theatre. At its best, it promises to be always different, always fresh, and full of possibility. And this is a show that (for me) fulfilled that promise.