West Side Story

Written by closeAuthor: Greg Victor Name:
Email:
Site:
About: See Authors Posts (9) on March 23, 2009

The Palace Theatre, (NYC). Book by Arthur Laurents. Music by Leonard Bernstein. Lyrics by Stephen Sondheim. Directed by Laurents. Original Choreography by Jerome Robbins (recreated by Joey McKneely).
With Matt Cavenaugh, Josefina Scaglione, Karen Olivo, Cody Green, George Akram.
2hrs 30mins. One intermission.

In 1949, actor Montgomery Clift, who was working on a scene from Romeo and Juliet at the famed Actors’ Studio, asked director/choreographer Jerome Robbins how best to approach Shakespeare’s play. Robbins suggested making it relevant to contemporary times by replacing the warring Montague and Capulet families with 1950s Manhattan teenage street gangs. Eventually, these gangs became known as the Jets (native-born) and the Sharks (Puerto-Rican immigrants), in a musical called West Side Story. Perhaps you’ve heard of it? You know… the musical that made it alright for guys to like musicals? The finger snaps, the Jets, the Sharks, the dance at the gym, the balcony scene, the rumble, the expression of youthful angst and hope that was a theatrical equivalent of the classic teen film Rebel Without a Cause.

Intrigued by this idea of a contemporary Shakespearean tragedy, director and choreographer Jerome Robbins collaborated with composer Leonard Bernstein, a young lyricist named Stephen Sondheim, and book-writer Arthur Laurents. Over the next several years they developed the show, which at various times along the way had working titles East Side Story, and Gangway! By the time West Side Story opened on Broadway (in 1957), they had created a musical that used the dance in ground-breaking and adventurous ways, and seamlessly blended together song, dance and book in a way that had never been achieved before.

But let’s not forget that West Side Story was underappreciated during its first appearance on Broadway; The Music Man won the Tony Award that year for “Best Musical.” The only awards given to West Side Story were for Choreography and Scenery. It was the film version that established the show as one of greatest musicals—if not the greatest—of all-time.  And then, after the original stage production, there came the film version which earned the musical several Academy Awards including Best Picture, Best Direction (Jerome Robbins, and Robert Wise) and another for Jerome Robbins honoring his achievement in the art of choreography.

The Broadway revival (in 1979) was received with less enthusiasm. The more time passed, the more the reputation of the original production grew, for it was the musical that changed the way musicals were conceived. Through his example, Jerome Robbins cleared a path for the Director/Choreographer to take the leading role in shaping how musicals were created. His synthesis of movement, music, and story, all from a movement based origin made such later landmark shows as Hair, Evita, A Chorus Line, and Dreamgirls possible. But for years audiences have been wondering when they would see and hear a production that could ever live up to the original. The challenge in producing a revival of West Side Story: its reputation demands perfection for an audience to feel their expectations are satisfied.

Over time, the musical became part of our greater cultural landscape, representing a piece of the puzzle of the American experience. Through song, dance, and text, we as audience members come to believe that we have an understanding of the immigrant experience, teenage gang life, or the power of first love to overcome almost all odds, notwithstanding a tragic twist of fate.

But the years have taken its toll on the meaning of the work. The potency of seeing it for the first time wears off after the musical itself becomes assimilated into our everyday experience. The idea of singing and dancing gang members seems laughable, hopelessly naïve, and perhaps an even dangerous lens through which to digest the reality of street violence among young people. What we forget when we don’t see the actual staging of this musical as a work of art in its entirety, is that it uses the device of singing and dancing as means to successfully deliver a message of tolerance and understanding.

The turf on which its story took place has now become gentrified: the blocks where the Jets and Sharks fought and mamboed is now the Lincoln Center for the Performing Arts on Manhattan’s Upper West Side. Who says tough guys don’t dance? The musical itself has faded from our first-hand knowledge and entered the realm of mythic cultural literacy as we have adopted the imagery into our culture. From The Simpsons to commercials for The Gap, The famous phalanx from the number “Cool” has inspired everything from the gang film The Warriors and Michael Jackson’s “Beat It” video.

In commercials, Maria Sharapova has sung “I Feel Pretty,” while the WWE (World Wrestling Entertainment) has spoofed the idea of a musical rumble. When at a loss for originality, the number of Broadway choreographers who have used a satire of the choreography for some effect has become, finally, unoriginal. The influence of the musical is seemingly everywhere; indeed, certain New York City MTA subway cars play the first three notes of “Somewhere” (“Theeeere’s aaaaa plaaaace…”) when the car is departing the station. How then can a simple theatrical production to live up to the expectations of such a phenomenon? By going back to what works (the music and choreography), and lovingly and carefully recreating those elements for a new audience who may have never experienced something as thrilling as a thirty piece orchestra at a Broadway theatre before, as well as by taking artistic chances with less stellar elements of the production.

Last Thursday night, this third production to ever appear on Broadway opened at The Palace Theatre. Is this the perfect production of West Side Story? Not quite. Would any production live up to the audience’s collective expectations as they witness what is considered the best musical ever created? However, is it a production that takes risks and delivers to contemporary audiences the same sense of relevance that, no doubt, the original 1957 production did? Absolutely.

Enter Lin-Manuel Miranda (star and creator of In the Heights). He has been added to the list of collaborators, with his translation of much of the Sharks’ dialogue and even two of the songs (“I Feel Pretty” now becomes “Siento Hermosa,” and “A Boy Like That” becomes “Un Hombre Asi”). The idea of letting the Sharks speak in their own language brings a relevance to the musical and focuses attention on an aspect that drives the story to its tragic conclusion, and while also dealing with current linguistic anxieties. This mixed-language version of the show is bound to become the standard performed at schools and theatres around the world, and it ensures that future audiences will have access to this show for generations to come.

It might even prove to be the perfect New York theatrical weekend to see both West Side Story and In the Heights (son of West Side Story?) back-to-back. Both musicals celebrate life, love, tradition, and community in ways uniquely New York but universally recognizable. Those who complain that this re-invention is entirely unnecessary might be correct. But there is also something gallant about searching for a way to find new relevance for contemporary audiences. Audiences who do not speak Spanish will not be lost. Thankfully, the dreadful supertitles that were used when the show played its out-of-town-tryout in Washington, D.C. have disappeared.

There are moments in West Side Story that speak directly to the heart through the music and dance. These moments allow us to see anew a masterpiece that we thought we already knew fully. The rewards of this occasionally Spanish-speaking version come from the inner logic that Mr. Laurents applies to the implementation of the linguistic choices. Sharks speak Spanish with other Sharks. Anita, who considers herself to be an “American” girl, fights hard to keep English her language of choice. The rules of the game are logical and illuminating as they reflect choices made in the power structure of the society that we still live in. And, yes, in the end, Maria speaks Tony’s English… and in a syrupy moment that is uncalled for, Tony begins to speak Spanish. But on the whole, the addition of the dual- languages enlargens our understanding of the neighborhood in flux.

There are several performances worth noting for their humanity and understanding of character. These may not be traits that obviously call for kudos in a typical Broadway show, but when applied to a musical with such boiling-point emotion as West Side Story, you take away with you performances that are as essential as these. Let’s just start with Karen Olivo as Anita. She breaks your heart with her dignity and poise, all the while providing a point of view that keeps the story fresh and vital. She has the built-in advantage of delivering the audience-favorite, “America.” Since no one is absolute perfection, she disappoints only those who remember the extraordinary dance technique of Chita Rivera (in 1957) or Debbie Allen (in the 1979 revival). Still, her authority onstage tips the viewing balance in favor of the Sharks.

Her Jet counterpart is Cody Green, who last season won the top prize in Bravo-TV’s “Step Up and Dance.” But do not pigeon-hole him as just another beautiful dancer. Mr. Green delivers in all departments in his demanding role as Riff and creates an impression that does not disappear just because his character has. He is a leader anyone would follow, and he creates a sense of playfulness about the Jets that make us care about them as a group, as well as understand how Riff’s needs lead him to the events that bring his story to an early demise. His acting, singing and dancing are almost overshadowed by his sheer stage presence. Everything he does looks easy, no matter how difficult and precise.

George Akram is a stunning surprise as Bernardo. Who ever knew that Bernardo was such a powerful force in this musical? George Akram’s finely nuanced portrayal is the unexpected bonus in the production. He is a performer to watch at all times, as he plays beautifully off of everyone and everything around him. As Action, the most angst-ridden Jet, Curtis Holbrook positively smolders and threatens to ignite the entire theatre with his natural charisma.

The stand-out dancer of the production (although there are many who do justice to the intricate and specific Robbins choreography) goes to Kyle Coffman who plays A-rab. His commitment, discipline and execution onstage allow his body to speak in ways that equal the most soaring Bernstein melody. In a Jerome Robbins ballet, the choreography requires a very honest relationship to the music and, just as importantly, to the self. Mr. Coffman paints the stage with his entire being the way a confident artist attacks a fresh canvas. Go see for yourself.

As Tony and Maria, Matt Cavenaugh and Josefina Scaglione take the simplest approach possible to their characters. Their relationship stays true to both the Romeo and Juliet origins and seems timeless and pure in even the most dramatic moments. Ms. Scaglione’s vocals, in particular, are a revelation, innocent at first, yet burning with intensity when just the right note is required. This is true of most of the singing in the show. The cast has been rewarded with a score that demands levels of vocal dynamics that are almost unheard of in contemporary Broadway musicals, and they are up to the task. The orchestra is led by Patrick Vaccariello and it is a wonder to behold. The shock of hearing an actual string section (not a synthesizer masquerading as a string section) is a rare and life-affirming experience. We bow deeply to the Bernstein Estate for apparently insisting on this complete musical experience. The musical department is not entirely perfect, however. Missing is the jukebox in Doc’s drugstore that used to play a seldom heard Cuban tune written by Bernstein for a ballet that never got finished called “Conch Town.” In this same ballet score was a tune that became “America.”

The song “Gee, Officer Krupke” has been a challenge in the history of West Side Story. There is an ongoing debate about where in the musical’s structure is the most effective placement of this light-romp. The original tune was written for (and extracted from) Bernstein’s Candide. It is musically incongruent with the rest of the score for West Side Story, yet because of this, it provides very welcome aural relief and acts as a release from the very tightly constructed events that transpire in the day-and-a-half in which Tony and Maria meet, fall in love, and meet their tragic fate.

But rather than trust the material, there has been a very coy and unwelcome arrangement for the number which grates, and in an attempt to charm and entertain by brute force, it becomes the least entertaining number in the show. This is one of the moments (thankfully, one of only a few) where director Arthur Laurents seems to have lost his own cool. The strengths of this production emphasize the female characters and perspective. It is a West Side Story in which the women, on the whole, tend to outshine the men. This is not always a good thing when the musical you are presenting is about a pair of lovers, and mostly, about the boys that surround them. It is almost as if, in his determination to put his own imprint on the work, Mr. Laurents focused too intently on the moments that had not already been staged to perfection by Jerome Robbins.

Luckily, the artistic bar is set so high that when Mr. Laurents’ direction is out of balance, there is still an excess of riches on display. Mr.Laurents, whether consciously or unconsciously, has a tendency to diminish the mammoth contributions of his collaborators. Not only has the powerful second-act, “Somewhere Ballet,” been shortened, thus depriving audiences of the authentic Robbins/Bernstein masterpiece within a masterpiece, but it is set on a stage that is simply too crowded for some of the ideas inherent in the ballet (timelessness, spaciousness, the possibility of life) to exist fully. The fact that he introduces a new character, a mere child no less, to sing “Somewhere” at the apex of this ballet is even more baffling. Mr. Laurents may have named him “Kiddo,” but he belongs on the sidewalks of West Side Story as much as a puppet-lamb belongs in a realistic staging of Gypsy (a baffling element of Mr. Laurents’ recent Patti LuPone legend-making performance of that Jerome Robbins musical).

It is as if Mr. Laurents has the obvious good taste to know which are the most directable moments of a smash hit, and then has the bad taste to insist on leaving some sort of directorial rubber stamp on the scene. He makes sure to take the most ethereal and profound moment of musical theatre history and plant a flag bearing his name on it. The moon existed long before we landed there. There is no improving it. And “Kiddo” may have a name that fits in with the lingo Mr. Laurents created for West Side Story (words such as “frabajabba”), but he does not convey the significance of that important ballad.

Let’s not forget that Mr. Bernstein gave that solo, not to a lead character, but to an African-American soprano named Reri Grist. This song bears special meaning when the voice of compassion and experience is a black woman who is singing of finding “a place for us somewhere”… in 1957. It is one of the more frustrating moments in the show when the director does not trust the writer, especially since they are one in the same. The less said about the design of this production, the better.

The essential components of West Side Story (music, choreography, story) are so strong that no amount of cheap or misbegotten costume, scenic or lighting designs should dissuade the potential theatre-goer. Still, I must mention the glaring non-specificity of the costumes designs in particular. In some misguided attempt to avoid staging a “museum piece,” Mr. Laurents has approved designs that are just plain ugly and unflattering, and they are not made better by the mismatched and inconsistent makeup and hair designs.

Still, great musicals are not born from designs, as the 1980s-era of British musicals has shown. When adapting Shakespeare for the musical stage, the play’s still the thing. And West Side Story will always deliver. The roar from the opening-night audience in anticipation of so many of the songs and dances (especially “The Dance at the Gym”) is evidence of the hunger audiences still have for this classic. Luckily for our generation, we have noble producers who have agreed to present this classic with the full thirty-member orchestra, and with a faithful reproduction of the astounding and important original Jerome Robbins choreography, a task fulfilled by Joey McKneely. These are reasons enough to come to Broadway and experience the glory of a cross-pollination of the highest standards of the collaborative arts that go into a musical. The music, choreography, and story all represent the highest level of achievement in those forms, and put together as they are in West Side Story, they become a must-see event.

For years, there has been a trend on Broadway to disassociate the audience from the form. The marketing scheme that sells tickets to shows that are proud to call themselves a musical “for people who hate musicals” has done a disservice to the art form. By taking its rightful place back on Broadway, West Side Story does away with that Sontag-esque sensibility that has held American culture captive and all too self-conscious for so long. For the time being, anyway, the poetic and lyric appeal to emotion through the arts is reclaimed in the musical that is largely responsible for the wide use of the word “cool” in the first place. Go ahead – admit that you feel pretty, or that you like to be in America.  For now there is a place for us. West Side Story on Broadway will be that place for years to come.