The title, “Too Darn Hot,” seems to promise songs that sizzle by way of Cole Porter’s lyrics or breakthrough musical compositions in swing and jazz. The developers, Richard Hopkins, Jim Prosser and Rebecca Hopkins, mostly keep that promise. Focusing on Porter’s accomplishments with few spoken comments, the creators attempt to mimic his sophistication via two couples, one black and one white, in designer suits and colorful gowns accented by jeweled shine.
FST’s familiar musical cabaret format starts with all four performers singing “Anything Goes” and whirling into “Friendship” with much hand shaking and spinning through different partnerships to end with the beginning song. Nice, yet not much hot here. But then come the sexy songs.<
Stephen Hope, a favorite FST Cabaret performer, brings on pieces that justify the revue title. These begin with the stalwart Derrick Cobey and attractive Gayle Samuels proclaiming, “I Get a Kick Out of You” -- into which Stephen brings Ruthie Stephens, followed by “Let’s Misbehave”. The next set -- a sly “Let’s Do It” by Derrick and Gayle, ends with him slapping her rump -- tasteless! Ruthie, with her British accent and demeanor, delivers an unsexy “My Heart Belongs to Daddy.” Stephen almost saves the set with a wry “Just One of Those Things.”
Luckily, Porter loved France and being there, so the group can celebrate the songs dedicated to Paris and “Ca, c’est l’amour” that’s “Magnifique.” Ruthie’s at her best, powerful in the once banned-from-broadcasts “Love for Sale,” yet she remains unenticing. Act one closes with a song about “paree” and several that take the singers and audience “Back to Manhattan” and “Throwing a Ball.” These are not very hot.
“Begin the Beguine” starts Act Two. It has some cute but cold numbers like “The Poor Rich” and “Thank You So Much, Mrs. Lowsborough-Goodby” and “Tale of the Oyster.” The same-colored but more formal costumes (green and orangish red for the gals, grey for the guys with ties matching their gals‘ gowns) make Act One’s dress more gala. They’re right for a series that deals with “This Thing Called Love.”
“Blow, Gabriel, Blow” heralds the end with frantic movement by the four singers-dancers. Yet that’s almost typical in this revue. The performers move so much, often matching gestures to the lyrics, that I was reminded of the treatment of poetry in old fashioned elocution lessons. A man sitting near me thought the singers became “robotic.” Another liked everything but “the stiff Brit and the rushing around.” I found the sound too loud and enunciation of the lyrics sometimes too soft -- problems I’m sure will reach solution during the revue’s projected long run.
