Broadway Reviews

Lend Me a Tenor

Theatre Review by Matthew Murray - April 4, 2010

Lend Me a Tenor by Ken Ludwig. Directed by Stanley Tucci. Scenic design by John Lee Beatty. Costume design by Martin Pakledinaz. Lighting design by Kenneth Posner. Sound design by Peter Hylenski. Wig & hair design by Paul Huntley. Cast: Anthony LaPaglia, Tony Shalhoub, Justin Bartha, with Brooke Adams, Mary Catherine Garrison, Jennifer Laura Thompson, Jay Klaitz, and Jan Maxwell.
Theatre: Music Box Theatre, 239 West 45th Street between Broadway and 8th Avenue
Schedule: Tuesday at 7pm, Wednesday through Saturday at 8 pm, Wednesday and Saturday at 2pm, Sunday at 3 pm.
Running Time: 2 hours and 30 minutes, with one intermission
Audience: Appropriate 4 + Children under the age of 4 are not permitted in the theatre.
Ticket prices: Orchestra and Mezzanine (Rows A-J) $121.50, Mezzanine (Rows K-L): $86.50.
Saturday evening: Orchestra and Mezzanine (Rows A-J) $126.50, Mezzanine (Rows K-L): $86.50.
Premium Seat Price: $191.50, Saturday evening $251.50.
Tickets: Telecharge

Lend Me a Tenor
Mary Catherine Garrison and Justin Bartha
Photo by Joan Marcus.

The defining moment of the revival of Lend Me a Tenor that just opened at The Music Box doesnít occur within the play itself, but within the epilogue.

Itís a typical lark, the sort of party trick youíd expect from Ken Ludwigís 1989 farce, even if you didnít know itís always been a part of the show. It recounts, in roughly 90 seconds and zero spoken words, the play youíve spent two and a half hours watching. Italian opera divo Tito Merelli (Anthony LaPaglia) arrives in his hotel suite prior to his job singing Otello that night for the Cleveland Grand Opera Company, at the behest of its producer, Saunders (Tony Shalhoub). But after stressful run-ins with his wife Maria (Jan Maxwell), a rabid fan (and Saundersís daughter and Maxís girlfriend) named Maggie (Mary Catherine Garrison), a zany bellhop (Jay Klaitz), Saundersís gofer - and budding singer - Max (Justin Bartha), and various plot entanglements, Tito ends up unconscious as the performance looms. Saunders is, of course, forced to put Max on in Titoís stead - a move that, of course, causes as many problems as it solves.

The idea is that, after delighting in all this unfolding in real time, youíll find the lightning-quick version the breathless icing on an already hilarious cake. Here, itís merely more of the same-old, day-old confection: a lot of unenergized frivolity, smiling for smileís sake, and a pace so comparatively leisurely you may wonder whether the cast has wandered onto a MoMA tour by mistake. This would be distracting and outrageous as a theatrical nightcap if it werenít such an accurate recreation of the production leading up to it.

Make no mistake: As directed by Stanley Tucci, whoís making his Main Stem directorial debut, the show is always at least fine. Itís attractive enough, with a semi-opulent set (by John Lee Beatty) and glittery costumes (by Martin Pakledinaz) that appropriately recall the fringes of the Depression art world. And there are a couple of big laughs and a bunch of (considerably) smaller ones along the way.

Lend Me a Tenor
Justin Bartha and Anthony LaPaglia
Photo by Joan Marcus.

But too often it seems as if these erupt only because the cast, which also includes Brooke Adams as a rich and randy patron and Jennifer Laura Thompson as an upwardly mobile soprano who doesnít mind getting horizontal, is full of actors who could elicit them in their sleep. And, sadly, several of whom are more than a little determined to try.

One cannot, for the record, entirely blame them. Compared to Noises Off, Lend Me a Tenor is more gnocchi than even small potatoes: Michael Fraynís painfully funny play establishes its impossible situation of a recklessly ramshackle touring theatre troupe and builds on it incessantly until gravity demands the whole thing must come crashing down; Ludwigís skeletal writing teeters from the first scene, and never attains quite the dramatic foundation it needs to tower as either humor or theatre.

The vitality of a farce should emerge from its charactersí desperate desires; and singing careers, sleeping pills, and temperamental tenors are by any reckoning on the low-key part of the scale. Ludwig pins his play on the connection between the oversized emotions of Verdiís opera and the people surrounding the Cleveland mounting of it, but doesnít delve as deeply as he should into where those feelings come from and why theyíre exploding in quite this way.

So itís not quite surprising that Bartha is never believable as an aspiring vocalist; Max barely is. Still, the stiff, nerdy mien Bartha affects here hints at not a shred of musicality in either his soul or his body, and he wimpily pursues his dream from what appears to be a significant intellectual remove. (Bartha displayed more comedic finesse in his handful of scenes in last yearís hit film, The Hangover, than he does in all of his scenes here put together.) LaPaglia possesses the physical and vocal stature and bravura of a tempestuous star, but projects no palpable yearning that may identify him as more a person than a plot device.

Lend Me a Tenor
Jan Maxwell, Tony Shalhoub, and Jay Klaitz
Photo by Joan Marcus.

Shalhoub seems to be auditioning to play Max Bialystock in a bus-and-truck tour of The Producers, with ďtakesĒ and weak-legged reveries that convey the illusion of disappointment or tragedy without ever propelling him into either. Adams and Maxwell provide capable if arid interpretations of two women with perspectives from very different views of the stage, but do not prove dynamos in roles that require all the help they can get.

Thompson could nudge up the wattage on her vampiness just a bit, but milks her lines and business (in all sense of the word) to glamorously giddy effect. Klaitz, last seen (briefly) on Broadway in High Fidelity in 2006, is an electrified cannonball that plows through scenes (and, occasionally, fragments of songs) without the slightest trace of self-restraint; itís exactly the kind of performance the central LaPaglia, Bartha, and Shalhoub should be giving.

The productionís real surprise, however, is Garrison. Sheís delivering a nearly star-making turn that suggests the kind of work that could make the entire play sizzle were it deployed by everyone else. Maggieís goal may be the simplest onstage - get Titoís autograph, at any cost - but Garrison commits herself to it so completely that all the sneaking (and sleeping) around and door slamming she engages in isnít blocking disconnected from jokes but the legitimate means to the only end that matters to her. And, by extension, eventually to us as well.

Her gleam is unfortunately not sufficient for fully illuminating the dim environs around her, but itís an invaluable spark nonetheless. This Lend Me a Tenor is far from a tragedy, but itís also not a comic extravaganza that truly earns most of its laughs or that curtain-call reprise. Despite its subject matter, it lacks music, which is a major failing for a play that, like its two lead characters, needs more than anything else to sing.

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