THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1994, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, July 24, 1994 TAG: 9407240060
SECTION: LOCAL PAGE: B4 EDITION: FINAL
TYPE: Theater review
SOURCE: BY MAL VINCENT, ENTERTAINMENT WRITER
LENGTH: Long : 104 lines
In the opening number of Meredith Willson's ``The Music Man,'' a group of hardened salesmen bounce aboard a train as they proclaim, in patter rhythm, that ``Ya' Gotta Know the Territory!'' The lesson is one that Commonwealth Musical Stage's managing director, Jeff Meredith, has taken seriously. This theater has found a market and is reaping the benefits. To a local audience, hungry for big, familiar musicals, this company has become a haven to fill the void left by the demise of many local dinner theaters.
Commonwealth Musical Stage is a curious hybrid in that it claims to be ``professional'' (in all the vague connotations of that word), yet it uses mostly local talent. Audiences have been persuaded, if ticket sales are to be taken as the measurement, to sit back and not worry about labels. Truthfully, though, the company is, in the most general terms, very good if judged as community theater and very uneven if judged as professional theater. Also in general terms, it has been musically strong but acting-weak with a crying need for adequate dancers.
But enough of generalities. In a headlong dash to roast all the chestnuts that are familiar to its audience, it was only a matter of time until this theater got around to Willson's nostalgic mix of corn, laughs and broad, infectious songs - familiarly known as ``The Music Man.'' This is the one in which Professor Harold Hill, a con man who passes himself off as a salesman, arrives in River City, Iowa, in 1912 and convinces the local folk that the town is going to moral ruin because a pool table has been imported. The only thing that will save local youth, according to his sales pitch, is to start a band. He promises to teach the kids to play, and, knowing nothing of musical notes, stalls the town by suggesting that he is teaching ``the think system.''
This Americana, though, should be laced with an ample dose of satire. It is clear that Willson's memoirs of his own Iowa childhood are fond ones, and his music is sweetly exuberant. This is on the surface. It should be just as clear, though, that he is also joshing the setting a bit. It is this edge that the present production most noticeably misses, primarily because of its all-important leading man.
A singer has been chosen for the role, and, while fine in standard musical moments, he lacks the swagger and outright con-manship to suggest the bravura of the part. Al Bundonis, the company's lone visiting ``New York actor,'' was fine as Frank Butler in ``Annie Get Your Gun,'' a romantic leading man. He is not so fine here, in a role that is basically a character part.
Admittedly, all actors forevermore have to tread in the shadow of Robert Preston, who completely nailed the role in the Broadway original - a performance that has, unfortunately for everyone else who plays it, been preserved on film.
Preston's rapid-fire pace and charisma are legend and have become part of the role's identity. Professor Harold Hill is con-manship supreme - set to music.
It is unfortunate for Bundonis that ``Trouble,'' his showpiece, comes in the early moments of the show. There is no chance to establish the character gradually. In this number, he must convince us that he could, indeed, sell a band, or anything else, to anyone. It's one of the great tour-de-force numbers of all musical stage. Here, it is done adequately, but rather tamely - and at a pace that gives us a chance to think - a fatal fault for any salesman. Most unfortunately, Bundonis has been directed to sing the number to the audience, not to the townspeople. The interaction between salesman and potential victims is lost entirely as everyone lines up as if they were in a chorus line.
The sly swagger of ``The Sadder-But-Wiser-Girl'' is also missing. (The song is meant to prove the roue's potent ability with women in varied towns of the past.) The leading man is better when it comes to the score's standard ballads. He is a fine singer, but no Harold Hill.
Elizabeth Seton Evans is crystal-clear in her two soaring ballads as Marian, the librarian, a sweet woman who is in danger of becoming an old maid and decides to take a romantic risk with the salesman instead. ``Goodnight My Someone'' and ``Will I Ever Tell You'' have never sounded better. (And yes, we remember hearing both Barbara Cook and Shirley Jones sing those.) Evans even manages to give Marian a much-needed bit of backbone.
The pacing of the opening ``Rock Island'' patter is too slow, but the female corps picks it up for the laughable gossip chant ``Pickalittle.'' Some of the humor of the show's funniest character, Mayor Shinn's pretentious wife, is missing. Her Ladies Auxiliary for the Classic Dance apparently doesn't know what a Grecian urn looks like. (This bit should be a hilarious takeoff on cultural pretensions.)
Mary Ann Rayment affects a serviceable Irish accent. The quartet, featuring Mark Hudgins, Don Hershberger II, Marc Dyer and Tobin Jones, harmonizes so well that they could take their act on the road - solo. And, of course, little lisping Winthrop, as played here by Tyler Marcum, is irresistible as he struggles his way through ``Wells Fargo Wagon.''
In look, this is perhaps Commonwealth Musical Stage's biggest production yet. It features a big cast and a huge orchestra (larger than any in a Broadway pit these days). All the townspeople are dressed in colorful pastels that suggest there must not be a speck of dust in Iowa.
This production is a major step forward on two counts. First, and foremost, the orchestra (the Virginia Beach Symphony Orchestra conducted by David S. Kunkel) is balanced with the stage performers. In many past productions, the overpowering force of the orchestra was defeating. Here, it seems they have it. By Kunkel, they have it.
The other most promising aspect is the noticeable presence of exuberant dancers. As choreographed by Jean Widlicka, the ``Shipoopi'' number deserved the show-stopping applause it got.
Any production of ``The Music Man'' must ultimately be judged, though, by whether you would buy a used car, much less a band, from its Harold Hill. This con man simply isn't silver-tongued and exuberant enough. The ``think system'' apparently isn't enough. A little more of the rascal would have helped. by CNB