A Little Night Music
Reviewed by Socks Whitmore
Greenway Court Theatre
Through March 13
Recommended
After two years of COVID-driven delays, Knot Free Productions at last raised the curtain early this February on Los Angeles’ first full production of A Little Night Music in years. The show follows the passion and regrets of the actress, Desirée Armfeldt, the men who lust after her, and their jealous wives, through a whirlwind of events that leads everyone to a climactic weekend in the country at the Armfeldt chateau.
Directed by Ryan O’Connor (he/they) with musical direction by Anthony Zediker (he/him), the charming comedy of this Tony-winning 1973 musical is presented through a previously untested lens: a nostalgic reflection by Desirée’s daughter Fredrika Armfeldt, now a 30-year-old performer herself, traveling as part of a female quintet that together unveils the story of her mother’s escapades. This quintet is a reimagining of the show’s existing ensemble (previously a mixed chorus) that plays a major part into O’Connor’s new vision for the work; their program note states a desire to empower the “strong, willful, broadminded, complicated women” of the story who wrongly seemed to be at the whims of their respective men, as well as the revelatory thought of Fredrika as composer and of the show now being an original theatrical rendition of her family’s complicated origin story. O’Connor also identifies Fredrika as a queer woman, and the production’s gender-expansive casting lends itself to an unapologetic magnifying of the show’s existing sapphic undertones.
O’Connor’s framing device subtly lends new meaning to several aspects of the show, from existing lyric motifs like “I think you were there” and “remember” to the brief but wholehearted fling between the servant characters of Petra (Alexa Rosengaus, she/her) and Frid (Roni Page, she/they). The reveal of the lead quintet member as adult Fredrika is a slow burn, very understated for much of the show but pushed much more strongly by the middle of Act 2.
The physicality of the blocking comes through quite wonderfully at times; the comedy of gestural choices and the subtextual shared lust after Anne from Henrik and Fredrick serves as a great complement to the show’s senses of humor and tension. The choreography by Ty Deran (they/she) often contains symmetry fitting for the station of the characters, and effectively works with props like Henrik’s cello bow and croquet wicket.
The strongest performance by far is that of Sarah Wolter as Charlotte—both her comedic timing and her biting portrayal of anger shine, her larger-than-life choices being a perfect fit for the theater. Her emotional performance of “Every Day a Little Death” is the most captivating musical moment of the night. Though the ensemble vocals are fairly solid, the leads are somewhat lacking in the vocal department. The time away from performance during the pandemic shows in several singers’ lack of breath support, and Catherine Wadkins (she/her) gives a rather underwhelming delivery of the show’s most famous number, “Send in the Clowns.” The lack of microphones does the cast no favors, at times making it near impossible to hear them over the orchestra. But other impressive standouts include Ty Deran as Anne Egerman, skillfully navigating octave displacement and their falsetto range, and Rosengaus as Petra, a hidden gem of a vocalist emerging in the eleventh hour with her sole solo performance of “The Miller’s Son.”
The casting of Ty as Anne and Amanda Kruger (they/them) as Henrik has been behind some of the show’s biggest waves. Originally cast with cis actors in the cancelled 2020 production, the remarkable development of two trans people in love in a mainstream musical is of no small consequence. Though it is important to let trans actors speak as to whether the characters they play are cis or trans, if Ty’s Anne is viewed as transfeminine, her clinging to virginity and her playful “if I was a boy, would I prefer you or me?” to Petra are contextually transformed. While Amanda’s performance as Henrik does lack the vigor the character calls for until his emotional climax in the second act, the opportunity to see a nonbinary person like them in a cis male role should still be acknowledged as groundbreaking and affirming for TGNC audiences.
The star of the show’s design team is by far the costume designer, Michael Mullen (he/him), who successfully curated what must have been two dozen period gowns (though I cannot personally speak to the level of period authenticity). Several characters in Act 1 go through several wardrobe changes, sporting as many as four different looks before intermission. There are only a handful of instances that feel out of place, such as the choice to dress three of the supporting quintet members in black and white maid attire while leaving the fourth in a decidedly different modest brown outfit. But the pure amount of costumes is staggering, and with the Swedish aristocracy so heavily featured, several of the dresses are quite dazzling—from sparkling silver with floral embellishments to skirts of white and gold, the luxurious lifestyle of the upper class characters is palpable. A tip of the hat is also owed to the set designer, E.K. Dagenfield (he/him), who makes his scenic design debut with a simple but cleverly utilized collection of suitcase props (a nod to the lyric motif, “Unpack the luggage / pack up the luggage”) functioning as everything from chairs to beds.
Even after 50 years, the book and music of this Sondheim classic hold up, and O’Connor’s interpretation gives it a subtle added freshness along with a delightful dose of queer joy. This show is definitely worth seeing, and hopefully paving the way for ever more daring reimaginations of our old theater favorites.
Greenway Court Theatre, 544 North Fairfax Avenue, Los Angeles; Fri.-Sat., 8 pm, Sun., 7 pm; thru March 13. bit.ly/NightMusic2022. Running time: two hours and 30 minutes with one 15 minute intermission.
