I Could Laugh Out Loud

Jay Armstrong Johnson, Tony Yazbeck, Clyde Alves

If I were "officially" reviewing the new Broadway revival of On the Town for hire, I would probably be required to note some of its flaws and excesses; it has both. But I feel bound to record here that I found John Rando and Joshua Bergasse's production glorious top to bottom, and that it captured like no other show I've ever seen on a stage the bright-eyed, bushy-tailed pop fizz of the great mid-period MGM musicals--Singin' in the Rain, The Band Wagon, Easter Parade (I don't usually include the just-fine film version of On the Town in my pantheon, though it's worth a spin).

It's all there, from the corny jokes to the tenderly diverted romance, from the anything-for-a-laugh comedy songs to the arguably unnecessary but deliriously sexy 11th-hour dream ballet. Indeed, Leonard Bernstein's score--chock-a-block as it is with fun, tossed-off cabaret novelties--also has his finest collection of sinuous, restless, yearning blues ballets, which provide an emotional undertow that Comden and Green's daffy book doesn't even try for.

In particular, the "Lonely Town" sequence, in which Gaby sings of the acute mutual isolation and anonymity of a crowded, busy city, then dances about it, then is joined by a chorale that director John Rando spreads throughout the Foxwoods Theatre--I won't say I teared up, exactly, but it was a bracing and beautiful moment in the midst of the show's randy comic bustle, like a prayer meeting in a speakeasy. Which pretty much describes my sweet spot.

Don't miss it, in other words.