Promises, Promises

Here's your intrepid Broadway critic, doing an early morning review after seeing a new show last evening. Screw you, Frank Rich. Your job's not that hard.

Readers here will know that I am a sucker for the wonderful concoction of sausage and peppers. I ate some just the other night. Pure comfort food. And, when it comes to musical comedy, there is no better blend for me than the story of my all time favorite movie, "The Apartment," and the musical stylings of Burt Bacharach and Hal David, my all time favorite songwriters. Comfort food for the ears. The warmest, softest Q-Tip ever.

So, obviously "Promises, Promises" is one of my favorite Broadway musicals. It originally opened over 40 years and doesn't get revived often. I saw a showcase version of it with Jason Alexander in Los Angeles about thirteen years. When they recently announced this current Broadway revival a few months back, it was catnip for this kitty. And how soon could I buy tickets, please?

I ventured in with great trepidation, though. I was worried about the casting. Sean Hayes in the lead? Wow, he had spent years being underdirected by the much overrated James Burrows on "Will & Grace" and came up with one of the most annoying characters in television history. Hmmmmm.

Then, I hear Kristin Chenoweth as the female lead. Uh oh! Miscast Police, please report to my office immediately. The chick's got a great voice when singing, but sounds like your last helium balloon intake when she speaks. None of this bodes well.

I was wrong. Dead wrong.

It works. It works very well. When you have a great story and the super lush songs penned by Bacharach and David, you really can't mess up too much. But, surprisingly and amazingly, Hayes and Chenoweth pull it off better than even I expected. For the 95% of the audience who never saw the original, this will be an astounding evening of entertainment, which pales only slightly to the first production. My suggestion is you should not see it with anybody who yearns to do the comparison. I did and found myself defending the new cast all night.

Still set in 1962 because that's where this tale truly belongs, "Promises, Promises" should get a 2010 boost because "Mad Men" is in vogue. Stylistically, they got the era spot on. And, despite the age of some of the music, most of it sounds like it was written last week. I don't know what Bacharach and David have done lately, but who cares? What they did forty years ago is still eons better than the crap we hear today.

Sean Hayes works in a little of his Jack shtick but it never dominates the proceedings. Sean, see how good you can be when you actually have a director who gives a shit? His singing voice caught me pleasantly off guard. Who knew? Okay, he's nothing like the original portrayer of the role, Jerry Orbach, as my evening companion loudly announced at one point during the second act. My Lord, who the hell did I go to the theater with tonight? I broke the news to her that Jerry Orbach's dead and no longer available to do both evening and matinee performances. Get over it. Let's move on. Sean Hayes is a fine fit and let's both clap for him in unison.

Kristen Chenoweth took a little longer to get used to. Shirley McLaine's performance in the movie is so memorable that it becomes even harder to put aside when you see anybody else as Fran Kubelik. But, in her big emotional Act II scene, Kristen wins you over with some very understated acting choices. Indeed, Hayes and Chenoweth's musical numbers together work the best. Their voices blend nicely. Here I go again. Who knew?

Probably in an effort to get Chenoweth to actually play the part, the producers added two additional numbers from the Bacharach-David songbook in order to give her a few more "big belt" moments. When she sings and dances to "I Say A Little Prayer," you are reminded why it worked so well in Julia Roberts' "My Best Friend's Wedding." And why it succeeds here not so much. Actually, not at all. They also stick in "A House is Not a Home," which works a little better, but still feels like a home extension that doesn't carry on the architectural design of the rest of the house. Early American furniture in a Chinese Modern house. Ultimately, both tune insertions get in the way like some old lady scrounging for coins in her purse on the express line at the supermarket.

Going back to the movie "Ghost," Tony Goldwyn is making a cottage industry of playing rat bastards and he adds one more creep to his resume as the philandering Mr. Sheldrake. Here's another person who surprisingly made the most of his musical pipes in his two numbers. Here I go again. Who knew??? Not me.

The first half of the second act is stolen completely by Kate Finneran who scores mightily in the small role of Margie McDougall. There's a Tony Nomination and possible Award in her immediate future. One of those roles that is written so well that even the worst actress in the world can't screw it up. Luckily, Katherine Heigl was unavailable and Finneran was.

At the heart, though, is the music. It shines as brightly as ever. It wafts over the crowd and pulls you in by your lapels. You submit to it without putting up a fight. And, truly, it is the primary reason for the cult following that "Promises, Promises" has long had.

There were a few of these geeks around us. One old gay guy from San Francisco was sitting in front of us. This was his favorite musical, although, in conversation, he also mentioned that he loved "Young Frankenstein" as well. That moved his opinion to the "suspect" column within two seconds. But, the older lady next to us was also there to revel one more time in her most beloved musical of all time. She left with a huge smile on her face.

So did I. So did we all.

"Promises, Promises" opens this Sunday night and I hope the real reviews are as good as ours. But, then again, who do you think you should listen to? Them or me?

Ah, you said "me." I have trained you well, haven't I?

Dinner last night: Muffalatta sandwich at the Playwright Tavern.