[Reviewed at the Palace Theater] If it's "a tale as old as time," why does it need amplification loud enough to stop a clock? That's an exaggeration, but the first act of Beauty and the Beast, a stage adaptation of the Disney film musical, barrels out at us in waves of tinny sound, the performers fighting the overmiked orchestra just to be heard. Perhaps sound designer T. Richard Fitzgerald and director Robert Jess Roth want to create a wall of aural packaging to drown out an audience with more than a few youngsters in it. To my ears, however, the tykes are quite well-behaved -- even during an unscheduled technical glitch that halted the performance I saw for more than five minutes. This decibel problem makes the supporting cast play for big, "children's theater-"style emotions, and turns "Be Our Guest," two years ago a delightful show-stopper, into a Vegas-like barrage. Instead of leaning in to enjoy the parade of dancing objects, we lean back as the spectacle invades our space -- a small but crucial difference.
Happily, the second act story becomes so gripping, as Belle teaches the Beast to be a gentleman, only to lose him (nearly) to the brutality of the outside world, we're won back and can still be terribly moved by one of the world's great love stories. Andrea McArdle was recently cast as the bookish Belle. Harrison Beal remains the most amusingly abused sidekick on Broadway, his Lefou taking smacks and tumbles with come-back-for-more gusto. Once the performers and story break through to the heart of the tale, they become an object lesson for a show that should jettison one awful object: the mike.
