Gypsy Broadway Reviews

That not all this revival’s choices will please everyone is probably a good thing. On occasion, I found myself recalling moments that moved or thrilled me more in earlier productions, just as I did when I saw those productions in the first place. “Gypsy,” like other great works of midcentury American drama — it opened the same season as Lorraine Hansberry’s “A Raisin in the Sun” — rewards a layering of lifetime impressions. Wolfe offers a rich new layer, sufficient in itself, and more so as part of history. Most important, he has given us a way of seeing a star who had to be seen in this role. As “Gypsy” suggests, and McDonald keeps proving, a pioneer woman needs a frontier.

Despite its indestructible book and score and several strong performances, the show Wolfe has built never quite hangs together. Its gestures at times feel stock, at other times scattered, and as in much of Wolfe’s work with Loquasto, there’s a sense of getting stuck somewhere between worlds. Is this a scrappy production, or isn’t it? Well, of course it isn’t, but one gets the sense that somewhere along the line, it might secretly have wanted to be.

Sixty-five years after it first premiered on Broadway, “Gypsy” is still known as one of the greatest theater masterpieces of the 20th century. There have been stellar productions of the play from New York to London, led by icons including Angela Lansbury and Imelda Staunton. However, the latest revival, shepherded by legendary director and playwright George C. Wolfe and starring Tony Award winner Audra McDonald, is an electric and truly unique production that will undoubtedly become a crowning jewel in the canon of “Gypsy.”

And finally there is the inevitable “Rose’s Turn,” that very definition of the showstopping 11 o’clock number in which Rose’s pent-up ambitions and decades of resentments come roaring to the fore. There’s often a temptation to add one eruption too many – Tyne Daly famously slapped the floor – and McDonald doesn’t sidestep the urge. She plays down the soprano trills successfully enough, but in their place she chews more scenery than might be necessary. There’s no denying her power, here and throughout this revival. Her Rose is her Rose (just as – let’s not forget – her Billie Holiday was her Billie Holiday in Lady Day at Emerson’s Bar & Grill) – and who are we to do anything but treasure its fragrances?

However, the text has not been altered to explicitly support this thesis, leaving the racial subtext as an intriguing but peripheral layer to an otherwise outstanding production of one of the greatest musicals. One wonders whether Wolfe intended to develop the concept further and ultimately decided against it, which may have been for the best. I look forward to seeing “Gypsy” on Broadway again in 2040 – but not before attending this remarkable production at least a few more times.

McDonald is surrounded by an aces supporting cast: the searing Tyson and precocious Marley Lianne Gomes, who sparkle as older and younger June; and Lesli Margherita, who makes a meal out of her limited stage time as wisecracking stripper Tessie Tura. Woods, too, brings the necessary innocence to Louise, with added moments of depth for the naïve character. You see the seeds of her sensuality blossom in “All I Need is the Girl,” and she imbues “If Momma Was Married” with palpable longing for a life away from the spotlight.

Any production of “Gypsy” rises or falls on its Rose, and Ms. McDonald’s lifts this staging to majestic (sorry) heights. Days later I was reliving her “Rose’s Turn” in my mind with a mixture of elation, wonder and sorrow, the last arising from compassion for the devastating revelation of a woman’s misbegotten life. Who, after all, does not have dreams that withered, ambitions left unfulfilled? Who has not at some point felt that we walk through life as ghosts, just wanting “to be noticed,” as Rose wanly says in the musical’s moving final scene?

“Gypsy” is, by the estimation of many — including me — the greatest musical ever written. But you wouldn’t know it from the slow and unsteady revival starring Audra McDonald that opened Thursday at the Majestic Theatre. The quintessentially American story about driving and moving from place to place while scraping by with a pipe dream of stardom does not satisfyingly drive or move. With stop-start direction from George C. Wolfe, the sixth Broadway production of Jule Styne, Stephen Sondheim and Arthur Laurents’ musical runs out of gas early.

The trick seems to be that she doesn’t feel it… or, at least, show it. For the musical's three hour runtime, McDonald is singularly focused on her character’s objectives — making her daughters vaudeville stars. She doesn’t merely play Rose; she embodies her. The vocals — which are, of course, rich and operatic and often jaw-dropping — feel utterly seamless with Rose’s way of expressing herself. Onstage, McDonald isn’t a Broadway diva, but a storyteller. This is why she’ll most likely break her own record in the spring as the most Tony-nominated performer of all time with what would be her 11th nod. To put it in Rose’s terms: She’s got it.

But any questions of fit are allayed in the second act, as McDonald tears into Rose’s toxic ambition with sharp teeth. Rose, and the actor playing her, is the reason to attend Gypsy; with McDonald locked in on the mother’s white-knuckled obstinacy, the rest of the production falls neatly, if not too remarkably, behind her. Santo Loquasto’s sets – peeling entertainment ads on faded brick, humdrum boarding houses and shabby caravans – are enough to convey the indignities of show business during the Depression, the persistent gap between Rose’s bright-light dreams and their reality. The full 26-piece orchestra, under the direction of Andy Einhorn, makes lush work of the fully restored, golden-age music by Jule Styne. The trio of Lesli Margherita, Lili Thomas and Mylinda Hull conjure delicious, extravagant slapstick out of You Gotta Get a Gimmick, introducing Louise to her burlesque destiny.

I could pick faults with the production. Camille A. Brown’s choreography is more often busy than effective, notably in Gypsy Rose Lee’s Ziegfeld-esque “Garden of Eden” number, in which the chorus in sheer body stockings and strategic fig leaves look like they’ve stepped out of Showgirls. And Louise’s transformation from a shy kid just wanting her mother to notice her into a resplendent glamazon feels too abrupt. But rising star Woods looks so sensational in a Marcel wave and a shimmering red gown that she makes it work, a lifetime’s dejection melting away as Louise seizes her liberation from the shadows. In any case, no minor flaw can diminish the impact of this masterful show in such a beautifully acted production — all of it orbiting around the blazing force that is McDonald.

I thought I was a Gypsy purist, ready to disavow a new take on the show and cross my arms at McDonald’s attempts. But maybe to be a purist here is not to hold onto individual entry points into a long-beloved show, but to trust the material, trust the talent, and let the fabulous story – it’s not subtitled A Musical Fable for nothing – do its thing. McDonald’s monumental performance and Wolfe’s intelligent staging make this an essential entry into the revival canon, and a production not to be missed.

Nitpickers on the Broadway boards are claiming that the part doesn’t suit Audra vocally, offering elaborate descriptions of her “chest voice” versus her “head voice,” and how the jumps between the two aren’t perfect. A true Gypsy — and Audra — lover like myself didn’t notice, and doesn’t care. She is magnificent, giving a tingly performance that will be as hard to shake off as a tightened tassel. Another winning feature is Santo Loquasto’s efficient set design. While so many revivals have been going for flashy projections and enormous video screens, this production bravely goes for just … sets and props. And speaking of furniture: By the end of the three-hour extravaganza, it’s not hard to sense that Audra McDonald has a great chance of visiting that podium again.

One’s mind returns to the banner names—AUDRA GYPSY. McDonald’s commanding performance certainly delivers, but the structure and look of the show are significant negative distractions. Gypsy remains magnificent, but this production—with its excellent singing and cast—requires a stronger conceptual execution to make it truly great.

Yes, the show may be called “Gypsy,” but it’s Rose who is front and center. Luckily, McDonald offers the kind of fully committed, thoroughly thoughtful and often breathtaking performance people will talk about for decades. Don’t miss it!

Wolfe’s production captures the proper Gypsy flavor. No overwhelming Broadway-style scenery here; instead, we get sets by Santo Loquasto and costumes by Toni-Leslie James flavored with the faded dinginess of the final days of vaudeville. Jules Fisher and Peggy Eisenhauer, longtime collaborators of director Wolfe, provide the evocative lighting. Andy Einhorn is in the pit, leading a rousingly good 25-piece band through the ever-vibrant orchestrations by Sid Ramin and Robert Ginzler with updates, as required, from Daryl Waters of Shuffle Along. For those curious about such things, let us point out that the unfamiliar introduction to the song “Small World” (“Here I been, looking for a suitcase…”) is authentic: it was cut during the 1959 Philadelphia tryout, in conjunction with a scenery mishap. Not an overwhelmingly dynamic discovery, perhaps, but illustrative of how Styne and Sondheim took Rose and Herbie from dialogue to song. If there are minor lapses around the fringes of this production, no matter. First and foremost, this is Audra’s Gypsy. Audra is magnificent, everything’s coming up roses.

Or does it? Since she’s not barreling through the tunes like a freight train, McDonald uses her phenomenal vocal range to tap into an intense reservoir of feeling. Her Rose isn’t the abominable woman we’ve seen in previous productions. Sure, she’s pushy, especially when it comes to her star-to-be daughter, June (Jordan Tyson, The Notebook’s Younger Allie), the singing-dancing-twirling headliner of the family’s home-grown vaudeville act. She’s oblivious, shockingly so, when she volunteers her mousy daughter, Louise (Joy Woods, The Notebook’s Middle Allie), for a striptease at a second-rate burlesque. She’s girlish, giggly, and demure with reluctant agent/would-be fourth husband Herbie (a flawless Danny Burstein). But ultimately, she’s more mama bear than monster. The climactic “Rose’s Turn,” where she’s at her most vulnerable, is full of highs and lows both musical and emotional; never has Merman’s comparison of the song to an aria been more apt.

The marquee says it all: “AudraGypsy.” With less brass and more heart, Audra McDonald’s distinctive portrayal of Madam Rose, the mother of all stage mothers, is the reason to see this sixth Broadway production of the 1959 musical inspired by the memoir of Gypsy Rose Lee, the (s)mothered childhood vaudevillian turned famous adult stripper. Some people have called “Gypsy” the greatest musical ever written. “But some people ain’t me” — to quote a Stephen Sondheim lyric from one of Jule Styne’s many tuneful melodies in the show, which opened tonight at the Majestic.

McDonald’s take on Momma Rose is all her own from her very first line to her triumphant final song. She oozes with all of Rose’s insecurities but loves so fiercely and protectively. McDonald throws her entire being into “Rose’s Turn,” building and building until you begin to marvel that you are lucky enough to witness such a performance. And when Rose finishes her song, soaking in the adoration from the audience that is both imaginary and also very real, there is no other choice but to give her a standing ovation.

At the end of, shall we say, a testing year, it seems perverse to cheer for a malignant narcissist, a thieving liar, a fake patriot and toxic parent who exploits their children in bitter pursuit of fame. But if the world has become a sad, sleazy circus, more reason to welcome the consolation of art. The miraculous Audra Mcdonald blooms as Rose in what may be the most heartstopping Gypsy you’ll ever see. The fifth Broadway revival of this shatterproof classic, and the third I’ve witnessed after those starring Bernadette Peters and Patti LuPone, the current version carries a thousand-volt electrical charge and lands at the Majestic with the force of a tornado. McDonald is the thunder-tossing center of that tempest, reminding us that the root of Audra means storm.

In many ways, this Gypsy is grandly old-fashioned: It has a cast of 30 and an orchestra of 25; the set (by Santo Loquasto), costumes (by Toni-Leslie James), hair (by Mia Neal) and lighting (by Jules Fisher and Peggy Eisenhauer) are worthy of the Majestic Theatre’s name. This is a tree with all the trimmings—including restored bits of text that Laurents trimmed from previous revivals; here’s even new musical material, such as a brief introductory duet for “Small World.” Many of its pleasures are traditional ones, such as the excellent supporting performances: the ideally cast Danny Burstein as Rose’s put-upon lover and manager, Herbie, a mensch with a core of moral strength; Tyson as a June whose potential this production takes seriously; Mylinda Hull, Lili Thomas and the uproarious Lesli Margherita as a trio of dilapidated strippers who show Louise the ropes. This Gypsy has a running time of nearly three hours, and it luxuriates in its own length; it wraps around the audience like a mink stole, and none of it drags.

Does McDonald’s mezzo-soprano mimic her predecessors? No. Do we want that piercing belt to pummel to the rear balcony in “Everything’s Coming Up Roses” and “Rose’s Turn”? Yes. But that’s not what she delivers; frankly, it doesn’t matter. The reach and yearning to cut through the noise, while powerful but not necessarily cutting, makes her Rose that much more vulnerable despite actions that some might consider monstrous.

The director has also culled fine performances from other actors, particularly another musical theater favorite, Danny Burstein, cast here as Herbie, the agent turned candy salesman lured back to his old job by Rose, who becomes his partner in love as well. While Mr. Burstein has a lovely, easy chemistry with Ms. McDonald, his beautifully nuanced portrait also flickers with the simmering indignation and fundamental decency that ultimately dooms their characters’ relationship.