Tap, glorious tap. You see it constantly in Mark Bramble's overproduced but charming revival of 42nd Street, and it makes you wonder how many shows have abandoned it altogether. These days, dancing onstage amounts to little more than overly literal gyrations, even in classic revivals, presumably because theater creators think that if you don't toss in a few sexual references, people will think it's old-hat. I, for one, am happy to report that this production never gets racier than Mary Testa powdering her own behind, and in this day and age, that seems positively original. The musical itself has aged about as well as could be expected. The book has always been a bit creaky and rushes into emotions rather than letting them organically present themselves, but at its best, the old showman spirit is there. The most interesting part of the show is how it will always manage to be self-reflexive, even when produced in 3001.
The musical, chronicling a naive young performer's (the ebullient Kate Levering) foray into the big time and the trials and tribulations of being a star, operates in the same manner as actual Broadway producers. The songs, including "Go Into Your Dance," "Keep Young and Healthy" and "Dames," are constant reminders to the uninitiated to have star power and it doesn't hurt to look smashing either. One problem with this revival is that it itself is a little preoccupied with looking smashing. Bramble, working with a cast of dozens and choreographer Randy Skinner (who is picking up where Gower Champion, the original music and dance director left off), packs the stage with tons of eye candy, both in the impossibly attractive cast and dancing feet, which never seem to cease. The dancing is exceptional and precise, and Levering, a star in the making just like her character, has boundless energy and a smile that won't quit. She's the genuine article.
The musical falters a bit when people aren't clicking their heels, however. Christine Ebersole and Mary Testa, two vivacious leading ladies, take a back seat to the spectacle despite their comic skills, and Michael Cumpsty (last seen in Copenhagen), as the hard nosed, take-no-prisoners producer Julian Marsh, has presence to spare but never fully convinces us he's playing a guy who lost his heart to the theater. The climax of the play is quite dependent on this, and unfortunately, it fails to move us, leaving a flatness to the wrap-up when it should send us on air. Not to worry, though, since there is a finale on top of the finale that showcases the show's best asset: fancy footwork.
The show has no qualms about being big, which is why it eventually wins one over. It's refreshing to see a show with confidence these days; one that is big and bold without coming off too strongly. It's an ideal out-of-towner tuner, but for once that isn't such a bad thing.
