by Tony Phillips ****Think back to 2001. If you went to the art-house cinema at all that fall, chances are it was to catch Jean-Pierre Jeunes wide-eyed ingénue Amélie. With its many super-tight shots of newcomer Audrey Tautous eyes floating across the screen, its hard to reckon if theres ever been a character drawn from film who was more ready for her Broadway close-up. Add to that the stage return to the stage of Hamiltons best-known Schuyler sister, Phillipa Soo, in the title role and youve got one of the most anticipated new Broadway musicals of the spring season. Unfortunately, if this is whimsy-overloaded musical is something youve been mooning over, to quote the opening number, Times are hard for dreamers.
The main problem for composer Daniel Messe and lyricist Nathan Tysen is how do you compose an I want song for a musical theater heroine who really just wants to sit alone in her apartment and occasionally use a telescope to spy on her neighbors? Her early life, homeschooled by neurotic parents who imprison her because of an imagined weak heart, is not much more interesting. Frances answer to Dr. Phil could have really helped this family. Theres the creepy, daily health checkup courtesy of Manoel Felicianos checked-out, germaphobe father. And then her mother, played by Alison Cimmet, drags young Amélie, the delightfully-named newcomer Savvy Crawford, into town to dump her talking goldfish and Worlds Best Friend — Fluffy — into the Seine just before mom is crushed to death by a suicidal tourist who plunges from the top of Notre Dame.
If you had to read the talking goldfish line twice, this might not be the show for you. Certainly once her mothers grave marker, a singing garden gnome, begins to belt his world travel number, wait for it, Theres No Place Like Gnome, I was wondering when the next elevator to the top of Notre Dame was departing. This is a show that makes Paris lively Montmartre district seem washed out, largely on account of David Zinns lopsided, low-budget set, and asks you to root for a romance that proceeds full throttle even after Amélie discovers that her intended, Adam Chandler-Berats Nino, works in a grotty Pigalle sex shop, a red flag waving as earnestly as if Les Miserables Enjolras has just unfurled it on the barricade.
Book writer Craig Lucas seems to make the only sensible decision here, nixing the films cloying narrator and dividing storytelling duties amongst the dizzying number of characters portrayed by the chamber cast, some of whom tackle three different roles that director Pam MacKinnon has considerable difficulty juggling. Theres the rare standout. Alyse Alan Louiss Sylvie, a scheming porn shop worker, is clearly this franchises Rhoda-in-waiting, but, largely, characters whiz by, drop their trademarked line from the film, and then disappear into the night like the shadowy subjects of Brassais Paris de Nuit. At about the halfway mark of this intermission-less hour and forty minutes, Randy Blair takes the stage in an Elton John fat suit to serenade our Diana-obsessive lead with the song, Goodbye, Amélie, but Id bid this mousy neurotic adieu about ten minutes prior.
Amélie, A New Musical is currently playing at the Walter Kerr Theatre, 219 W 48th St, New York, NY, 877.250.2929 See www.AmelieBroadway.com
Leave a Reply