Merrily We Roll Along

Reviewed by Maureen Lee Lenker
The Wallis Annenberg Center for the Performing Arts
Through December 18^th

RECOMMENDED

“Musicals are popular – they’re a great way to state ideas,” says Franklin Shepard (Aaron Lazar) in Stephen Sondheim’s Merrily We Roll Along. While the statement may have held true in the 1950s and 60s, it’s been a long time since musicals have had that kind of wide-reaching power, this year’s veritable phenomenon of Hamilton notwithstanding.

Merrily We Roll Along, an oft-overlooked Sondheim musical that closed after only sixteen performances in its original Broadway run in 1981, came at a low point in American musical theatre and its power over the American imagination. But with time, the show — based on a Kaufman and Hart play of the same name — has been elevated to an almost mythical status among Sondheim obsessives who see it as an overlooked gem.

The production now playing at The Wallis does much to support this argument. Directed by Michael Arden, who shepherded Deaf West’s production of Spring Awakening to Broadway, it drags a bit in Act 1 — and the mental hoops you must jump through to follow its backward-moving timeline deliver evidence of why the initial production was met with confusion and tepid response. But Act 2 delivers such a resonant and beautiful emotional conclusion that you wonder if original reviewers perhaps left at intermission.

The story follows three old friends, Franklin Shepard (Aaron Lazar), Mary Flynn (Donna Vivino), and Charley Kringas (Wayne Brady), backwards in time: from 1976, when Frank forsakes his friends and his passion for musical composition for a career as a successful movie producer to the youthful moment when he first meets Charley and Mary. We see, in reverse, his evolution from starry-eyed dreamer to bitter sell-out. This is a story that, particularly in a Beverly Hills theater, isn’t new or groundbreaking, but when told in reverse has keen emotional resonance, and a bittersweet conclusion that would be lacking if delivered in chronological order.

Arden’s production dazzles with its deft handling of the material, its beautiful staging, and its top-flight production values. The proceedings take place surrounded by the trappings of the stage — dressing room and rotating mirrors, abundant lighting and an open trap door. But as these disappear from the story, and as Frank moves back to his earnest beginnings, so too do the facades that are part of the illusion of success — until all we’re left with are the characters and a bare stage. It’s a powerful metaphor, made more effective by its subtlety — you don’t truly notice it until mid-way through the second act.

The production is undoubtedly partly Sondheim’s response to his own distaste with Hollywood and with critics who didn’t understand his work. As a writing team, Charley and Frank find resistance to their music because it doesn’t have a tune you can hum — you can feel Sondheim directly reaching out and chastising those who initially pigeon-holed him as a lyricist for exactly that reason. Because of this and the mounting legacy of its creator, the production has aged well, its jokes and sharp asides hitting harder with the benefit of time.

Arden has also kept the production timely, with color-blind casting that better reflects the diversity of 2016. Mostly, this is an improvement — the ensemble is superb and Wayne Brady is a particularly welcome addition with his unique blend of vocal ability and comedic chops. Initially, it is a bit distracting to consider the implications of interracial relationships in the 1960s and 70s, but this quickly fades behind the immense talent of the actors. Brady is by turns funny and heartbreaking as the friend who chose artistic integrity over money; as Frank, Aaron Lazar miraculously ages backwards, letting the weight of the years roll off of him little by little; and as Mary Flynn, Donna Vivino delivers a performance full of heartache — a bitter drunk driven by her own self-doubt and unrequited love. Amir Talai, who looks like a young Pacino, provides hilarious comic relief as sleazy producer Joe Josephson, his performance enhanced by glimmers of wry heartbreak when faced with his wife’s infidelity.

As Beth, Frank’s ex-wife, Whitney Bashor steals the show with a show-stopping rendition of “Not a Day Goes By” near the end of Act 1. The song gains all the more poignancy when it becomes Beth and Frank’s wedding vows in Act 2, and is then taken over by Mary as the invisible woman in a non-existent love triangle. “Not a Day Goes By” is one of Sondheim’s most well-known stand-alone songs; context makes it tug at the heart strings even more. It’s a tender ode to love found and lost, and best encapsulates what Frank abandoned along with his youthful values and dreams. It’s not the lost career as a composer or hollow achievements that sting the most — it’s the relationships he’s demolished.

Arden handles this song and other ones like it (“Good Thing Going,” “Opening Doors”) with nuance and care —never overshadowing them with excessive choreography or theatrics, but letting the lyrics and not quite hummable tunes speak for themselves. That’s not to say the choreography isn’t also lovely: Eamon Foley uses the space and the intricacies of the ensemble’s movements to make the latter seem twice its size. Mirrors spin around the stage, a metaphor for Frank’s own self-knowledge, and they add an evocative beauty to the proceedings. The shadows of young Frank, Mary, and Charles, represented by three dancers who evoke a Gene Kelly dream ballet with crisp, purposeful movements, are Foley’s loveliest achievement. They help provide a poetic through-line to the audience, and come full circle to deliver a deeply moving conclusion.

The show’s themes aren’t large in scale; they hone in instead on the tragedies and disappointments that make up most lives — lost friendships, failed dreams and self-doubt, rather than grand tragic concerns. It’s this focus, embraced with a real sense of wistfulness, that makes for such a bittersweet resonant show. Young audience members will see their own fears projected onto the story, while older members will recognize, fondly and sadly, the compromises they may have made. Many will leave vowing not to simply merrily roll along, and will keep to that vow for as long as the memory of the show’s message remains alive in themselves.

The Wallis Annenberg Center for the Performing Arts, 9390 N. Santa Monica Blvd., Beverly Hills; Tues.-Fri., 8 p.m., Sat., 2 pm and 8 pm, Sun., 2 pm and 7 pm through December 18th; (310 )746-4000 or www.TheWallis.org; Running time: 2 hours and 35 minutes with one 15 minute intermission.