Kander and Ebb Ask: Curtains for the Traditional Musical?

Curtains, the last musical by John Kander and the late Fred Ebb, opened at the Al Hirschfeld Theatre on March 22. It is certainly receiving the first-rate production that a work by such a legendary team deserves. Carried by an able cast of both marketable stars and Broadway favorites, Curtains is as well executed and directed as it is written, even though it has trite jokes and an inevitable silly edge. Yet despite its unexpected twists and turns-its format makes it sort of a "Clue: The Musical"-this bouncy, light-hearted, and quintessentially feel-good musical comedy seems to be missing the trademark glimmer that one might hope for and expect from Kander and Ebb. But perhaps the trouble does not lie in the stand-alone quality of the musical itself nearly as much as it does in the prestigious reputation of its origins. As the writers of such classics as Chicago and the nearly-flawless Cabaret (musical moments of which appear in Curtains), Kander and Ebb are such a hard act to follow that even they themselves could not surpass the standards set by their own brilliance.

The show begins following the murder of Robbin' Hood's leading lady during its Boston run, when Lieutenant Frank Cioffi (the endearing David Hyde Pierce, best known as Frasier's Niles Crane) is called in to solve the murder. His insatiable love for the theater gets the better of him as he takes on the additional duty of helping save the show from failure by restaging numbers in his spare time and placing the company under quarantine for the investigation. As a musical for people who love musicals and a satirical love letter to the theater, with tributes most notably to Oklahoma! and Annie Get Your Gun, the comparisons of Curtains to last season's multiple Tony winner The Drowsy Chaperone are probably inevitable. The humor in both is doubtless best appreciated by, as Curtains calls them, "that special kind of people known as show people." Drowsy's premise, however, is a problematic concept-one that is better in theory than in practice. Its take on the show-within-a-show structure requires its audiences to watch a purposely bad show when its "everyman" character shows off his favorite (yet forgivably flawed) musical, and the musical is actually staged in his imagination-or living room, as it were. By setting Curtains almost entirely backstage, the creative team cleverly avoids this, and wisely so. The result here is a delightful portrait of theater from behind the scenes, filled with fabulous wit about the necessary evil of critics and the down-and-dirty business side of the theater industry. The pieces of Robbin' Hood that are actually shown are strategically chosen. We only see enough snippets-mostly in the form of irresistibly pleasing company dance numbers (thanks to Rob Ashford's lively choreography)-to supplement the storyline. It is also in these moments that Anna Louizos' colorful sets and William Ivey Long's lavish costumes best deliver to caricature the stereotypically corny musical being parodied.

Hyde Pierce admirably leads the strong cast as he takes on his first true Broadway lead after winning over audiences with a featured role in Spamalot. He carries a tune well enough, and charms with his wonderfully amicable presence and sweet quirkiness. Stage and screen veteran Debra Monk returns to Broadway as producer and stage mother Carmen Bernstein. She is a commanding comedienne and makes the most of some of the show's best material with ease, although her overbearing presence does at times become stale in its aggression. Skilled triple-threats Karen Ziemba and Noah Racey reunite as the lyricist and leading man, respectively, after sharing the spotlight as the foremost redeeming qualities of the tuneful-but-lacking 2004 flop Never Gonna Dance. Here, they are again terrific, both together and apart. Ziemba is consistently poised, even in "Thataway!," a parody of a raunchy western saloon number. Racey's charisma has never been more appealing, and with time-developed acting chops that rival his nimble, gifted dancing, he is even more of a pleasure to watch now than in the past. Perhaps the only misstep in the cast is Jill Paice as Niki, the young actress with whom Lieutenant Cioffi falls in love. She plays whimsical eagerness with an irritating melodramatic tone and is unable to rival Hyde Pierce's charm.

The score is not on par with Cabaret or Chicago-and it has significantly fewer memorable tunes-but it does have some of the foot-tapping melodies that Kander is famous for, particularly in the dance numbers. Second best are the more ballad-like moments, such as "I Miss the Music," (which Kander wrote the lyrics for as well, following Ebb's death) and "Coffee Shop Nights," which is Lieutenant Cioffi's lament about his lonesome nights on the job. The lyrics, too, do not quite live up to expectations, but they still feature Ebb's poetic finesse and witty banter, if only with a bit less bite and a bit more subtle gentility. The moments in which he pays tribute to the art of the musical are by far the sharpest and most palatable.

It is not devoid of catchy tunes, but Curtains is lacking some essential central spark, even if it is one that is difficult to put a finger on. With a first act that is slow to get off its feet and missing a necessary momentum, the show seems at first a much larger disappointment than it turns out to be in the end. Act Two thankfully affords a faster plot and more suspense, with the cracking of Cioffi's case flanked by tied-up loose ends for both the show and the character's romantic endeavors. This lack of initial momentum, though, is a curious thing in a show with so many attributes to its credit. If not the book, the score, the performances, or the design, where should blame fall? Perhaps the musical comedy genre itself can only go so far and ultimately stands in the way of what the show needs. Curtains seems to reach its categorical limitations, hindered by their constraints in the process. Can the musical comedy any longer burst at its seams with excitement? Although sentimental and enjoyable, can these shows still be fresh, or has it all been done before? Are the limitations of what the traditional musical can achieve no longer satisfactory? Is it-to be blunt-inherently boring?

Curtains is perhaps a fish out of water-a peculiar case at an interesting point on the relatively short timeline of the American musical. The traditional musical has long left its golden age, but Curtains, one of the few truly new musicals to appear on the scene recently, is ironically a stylistic kickback in nearly every aspect-yet another similarity to The Drowsy Chaperone. In a time in which both overtures and traditional orchestras have become rare commodities because of influences that range from minimalism to shifting musical styles, audiences at Curtains are pleasantly surprised with both. The opening notes almost seem as though they signify a step back in theatrical time.

Curtains is undoubtedly written in a style reminiscent of the classic musical comedies it satirizes, and as such is naturally different from Kander and Ebb's most successful shows. It seems much like their lesser-known The Happy Time, an upbeat, feel-good show that coincidentally just received a short off-Broadway revival. The Happy Time, though, is fittingly decades old. Curtains is unique because in a time of jukebox musicals, films-turned-musicals, and various other forms of unoriginality, it seeks to break a mold-and perhaps does so with somewhat more success than many of its recent predecessors-by attempting to turn back time as opposed to creating the next step in musical theater evolution (like, for example, Spring Awakening, which is a bold, fresh take on the rock musical).

With the exception of Drowsy, other recent attempts to imitate the canonical musical have often been film adaptations (Dirty Rotten Scoundrels, Thoroughly Modern Millie, and Never Gonna Dance, for example, were adapted from the films of the same title and Swing Time, respectively). They did not do it nearly as accurately as has Curtains, which does so due to the presence of a writing team with firsthand experience in the real thing. This results in a work that it is more of a recreation than an imitation.

Stylistically speaking, Curtains feels more like something that would be a revival than a totally new musical. In fact, most classic-style, good old-fashioned musicals we've seen lately have been revivals-Oklahoma! and Flower Drum Song in 2002, Fiddler on the Roof in 2004, The Pajama Game in 2006-to name a few. And however meritorious the achievement, its construction doesn't provide it with an escape from Broadway's increasingly rampant commercialism, perhaps especially strong for a show so out-of-place in the narrative of American theater. Its old fashioned appearance cannot excuse it from the realities of modernity: as Monk's show-stopper says, "it's a business."

If one knows nothing else about Curtains, he or she is likely aware that Pierce is its leading man. What's questionable about Pierce is certainly not his ability as a performer, but rather that of the show to succeed without him. Is the use of a television star to draw in audiences simply a tactic to fill the void that an antiquated style can no longer fill? At the very least, as Broadway is invaded more and more by talentless and miscast celebrities in the name of star power and box office draw, Curtains can thankfully be applauded for the fact that it boasts a lead who does have the talent to back up his fame.

Given what Curtains is, the casting of a famous force to be reckoned with like Hyde Pierce is perhaps its smartest move. Curtains' crowd-pleasing opulence and modern humor, as tools for dodging a vintage pigeonhole, cannot quite negate its limited appeal to token "theater people" nearly as much a major star can. If potential reached is still not good enough and the canonical comedy can no longer stand on its own two legs against the masses and the progress of time, a show like this does not have a choice but to fall into contemporary traps. When competing with the likes of Disney, The Four Seasons, The Wicked Witch of the West, and Oprah's very own self-indulgent pedigree, a famous face may be the only way it will gain enough appeal stay afloat.