Andrew Lloyd Webber's revised version of his 1982 musical "Song and Dance" is a 70-minute one-woman show comprised of 20 songs and no dialogue and details a young English girl's emotional journey toward independence. Originally the show featured a second act in which part of the girl's story was retold as a modern ballet, but this portion has been eliminated while the first act has been updated a bit.
Emma is a 30-year-old British hat designer who arrives in New York City late one night planning to move in with her new American boyfriend, Joe. That relationship suddenly sours when she discovers that she's just being used. Emma then meets Sheldon, a movie producer who lures her off to the plastic existence of Hollywood. Bored with being ignored in Lalaland, Emma returns to the Big Apple where she meets a younger man who travels for a living and proves to be unfaithful to her. Emma's final affair is a frivolous fling with Paul, a married man with children. When he confesses his intent to leave his wife for her, Emma ultimately realizes that the tables have been turned and now she is using men the way they have used her. Emma's revelation strengthens and leads her toward independence, and we're left with the feeling that our heroine has learned an important lesson and will survive nicely.
In order for this production to work it must spotlight an actress so captivating and appealing that she is able to command the stage alone for over an hour. Emma has musical conversations with invisible characters as well as out-loud musings detailing her emotional odyssey toward womanhood. Marti Webb and Sarah Brightman both mastered this tour-de-force in the London production, while Bernadette Peters won the Tony Award for Best Actress in the Americanized version of the show.
Unfortunately lovely Chicago actress Harmony France, so exciting in Bailiwick's "Jerry Springer: The Opera," just isn't quite up to the task. Ms. France's emotional journey often seems artificial and forced. We have to be completely convinced of Emma's search for love, and very often Ms. France merely appears to be going through the motions, "acting" the moments instead of truly believing them. Filled with several catchy soft-rock tunes, such as the haunting "Unexpected Song," the show's title tune and the opening number, "Take That Look Off Your Face," much of the score is written in such a low key that we can barely understand or hear the actress over the obtrusive piano and percussion accompaniment. Ms. France's middle range is lovely, mellow and deeply expressive, but sometimes, unfortunately, her belt comes off as forced and jarring.
Even during the actress' finest moments the production's technical support often seems to be trying to sabotage her performance. Joseph Tokarz's multilevel set is very dark and often dimly lit; the precariously small platforms are strewn with so many props, furniture pieces and steep stairways that the audience worries for Ms. France's safety. Jeff Jones' somber and often unflattering costume pieces and heeled shoes force the actress to continually and needlessly struggle through many quick changes in full view of the audience, often ending up in a tangle of fabric and hats. These moments did very little to support or enhance her performance.
To be successful, this musical should be as simple and uncluttered as possible. The production must allow the audience to empathize with and focus upon Emma as she makes her way through this labyrinth of affairs and emotions and shares her story with us. Bailiwick's Chicago premiere, alas, falls a bit short of this goal.
Reviewed by Centerstage!
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