So, now Harry’s back on Broadway in the revival of a mediocre musical from about forty years ago called “On A Clear Day You Can See Forever.” I never saw the original musical or the subsequent movie version directed by Vincente Minnelli and starring Big Mouth Barbra and Yves Montand, whose last name might be the French translation for “stiff as cardboard.”
That’s a long way in saying I have had little exposure to the Alan Jay Lerner-Burton Lane tuner. It’s a psychiatrist and a patient. The doctor falls in love with the person that the patient was reincarnated from. That’s the sum total of advance word I had as I headed into the St. James Theater on what might have been one of the top ten soggiest nights in Broadway history.
The show officially opens on Sunday night. But, why wait for the New York Times theater idiot to tell you what you're supposed to think? Allow me. And I'll start by saying...
Harry, I love you. But….
This edition of “On A Clear Day” is wildly erratic and that’s probably because it wildly differs from the original version. This is not so much a revival as a complete tear down and rebuild on the same property, sort of like what the new owners did to O.J. Simpson’s house on Rockingham. The framework is still there, but we better change everything else because, well, the original owner is a murderer.
In this version of "Clear Day," you can still hear the two show stopping numbers, “Come Back to Me” and the title tune, which are usually featured whenever Eydie Gorme plays the Westbury Music Fair. But, any other comparison to the first incarnation is akin to putting the Mona Lisa side-by-side with a Winky Dink drawing on a 1950s television screen. Indeed, in this show about reincarnation, the script has also come alive again in a completely different body.
You see, in 2011, producers decide to embrace edginess. The patient, who has simply gone into hypno-therapy to stop smoking, is now a gay guy. And who, in a previous life, was a 1940s Big Band songstress. Welcome to the new millennium upgrade. Dr. Connick falls in love with a woman who is really now in the body of a man. Victor/Victoria merges uncomfortably with Dr. Phil.
It’s not the worst revision in the world until you meet David Gamble, the homosexual floral clerk, played flamboyantly by David Turner. He goes overboard with the character and that anchor nearly sinks the whole SS Clear Day. The show is set in 1974 and that’s probably fitting since Turner essays a performance that is sort of a 1970’s sitcom version of a gay character. If you were looking closely, you’d think you were seeing a West Hollywood take on “Scooby Doo, Where Are You?” Was this the actor’s choice? The director’s? The producers by committee? Nancy Pelosi? Whoever is the culprit should know that your decision almost kills the show’s chances to make it past 9PM.
Ironically, there's an actor who plays David's boyfriend. His performance is completely nuanced and tempered with all the mincing reserved solely for your holiday fruit pies. I suggested to my theater compatriots that this guy---and his acting choices---would have been a better choice for the patient. Of course, it was pointed out to me that this dude was probably at least a foot taller than Harry Connick. Yeah, that will never do. Suddenly, "Clear Day" becomes "Mutt and Jeff - The Musical."
Some smashing redhead named Jessie Mueller plays Melinda, the feminine side of David Gamble, and she nearly steals the show whenever she opens her mouth to sing. That said, there was something incredibly uneasy on how she deals with the therapist. Medical ethics charges would abound if somebody actually paid attention to what was happening on the stage.
Admittedly, any time you fall in love with your psychiatrist, mayhem and/or medical malpractice law suits usually do ensue. But, here, there are moments that border on creepiness in a Jerry Sandusky-kind-of-way. There is one dance number where Harry dances with both Melinda and David. It made me think of what would happen if they actually tried to produce a movie called “Fred Astaire Meets the Two Headed Monster from any Ray Harryhausen Movie.”
As a musical comedy star, Harry Connick Jr. is, well, not one. His acting is always just a little this side of a mighty oak. It just stands there and, on cue, can sprout leaves from time to time. During the musical numbers, Harry is incomparable. In moments with dialogue, he is incomprehensible. At one point, he playfully jumps onto a couch and instantly channeled one of the worst episodes of Pee Wee Herman in his Playhouse. I wanted to raise my hand and offer to help push a piano on stage so Harry could simply do what he does best.
Set in the decade that brought us “The Partridge Family,” the musical is awash in bell bottoms, wild-ass colors, and a bunch of asterisks that were likely stolen from the old Mike Douglas Show studio. One background looked like the joke wall from Rowan and Martin’s Laugh-In and instantly brought back fond memories of the late Alan Sues who just died two weeks ago.
The show curtain itself looks like something Salvador Dali would have painted while stricken with a sinus headache. They overlay some bizarre hypnotizing light effects that look like outtakes from the opening credits to Alfred Hitchcock’s “Vertigo.” Meanwhile, Dr. Harry’s office desk looks exactly like the one Dr. Bob Hartley used on “The Bob Newhart Show.” I shuffled through the Playbill quickly to see if Jack Riley as Mr. Carlin was listed in the cast.
As much as I groused all through the intermission about all of the above, the show magically ties together at the end, although it's not a perfect knot. The two big aforementioned numbers done by Harry send you home with a smile on your face and you are amazed that the producers have managed to salvage a plot that first appeared to be the biggest misconception since New Orleans meteorologists predicted light rain showers just before Hurricane Katrina hit. Almost mystically, theater goers involved in a major car crash have been pulled to safety from the wreckage by a paramedic who sings just like Harry Connick Jr.
In retrospect, I have had worse nights in the theater. This show should run for a little while and just long enough for all of Harry's fans to catch up on his latest project. Except, ultimately, they'll be longing for more of him and a lot less of what they see in this musical.
As for me, I went out into a driving and wind-swept rain storm, humming the title tune and thinking about when I, too, would see my next clear day. And, isn't that what you're supposed to do after you see a Broadway musical??
Oddly and surprisingly, mission accomplished.
Dinner last night: Thai chicken salad at the Yard House.
1 comment:
It'll run through New Year's.
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