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She's Gonna Make It After All
Sutton Foster breaks out in inspired 'Millie'
By Linda Winer
STAFF WRITER
April 19, 2002
BROADWAY REVIEW
THOROUGHLY MODERN MILLIE. Book by Richard Morris and Dick Scanlan, with new music by Jeanine Tesori, new lyrics by Scanlan. Directed by Michael Mayer. Marquis Theatre, Broadway at 45th Street. Seen at Tuesday's preview.
'THOROUGHLY Modern Millie" is a thoroughly old-fashioned new musical comedy inspired by a thoroughly bizarre 1967 flapper-white-slavery-caper movie that helped turn Hollywood against musicals.
The show, which opened last night at the cavernous Marquis Theatre, is a frisky, fresh-faced throwback that dares to enjoy the hokey conventions while indulging a lovely little mad streak all its own.
Naturally, we would rather have seen the bright young creative team spend its time inventing a smart new musical instead of lavishing such obvious affection on someone else's flawed old fluffball. But there is real news. Long after our theaters have been emptied and refilled with another bushel of eager movie adaptations, "Millie" will be remembered as the one that brought Broadway's favorite star- is-born cliches to life again. Sutton Foster, who paid her dues in bit parts and road company replicas, was the understudy who stepped into the title role a week before previews last winter at the La Jolla Playhouse.
Just about everything we have heard since about her - and we've heard a lot - is true.
She has a smile that may remind you of Mary Tyler Moore, the gawky comic precision of the young Carol Burnett, the lyricism of a romantic heroine and a smallish but vibrant voice as accurate as it is expressive. As Millie, another of New York's prototypical small- town girls with big-city dreams, Foster appears unfazed by the burden of a character created onscreen by Julie Andrews. The newcomer takes the big stage with an uninhibited what-the- heck comfort level and the discipline to go with her instincts. And, lest we think she can't belt her heart out while shredding others, she seals the deal late in the evening with "Gimme, Gimme," a hungry affirmation of uncynical poorhouse love.
Some dull stretches still cling to the book that Richard Morris and lyricist Dick Scanlan untangled from Morris' hodgepodge of a screenplay, but Michael Mayer's production - buoyed by Rob Ashford's unobtrusively inventive choreography - seems to be having loopy fun with the foolishness. At its best, the spirit is catching.
The basic plot is the same, but without such detours as the Chinatown opium den and the sell-out ending. Millie still arrives from Kansas to marry a rich boss - that is, to be a New Woman who picks reason over emotion. The all-woman Hotel Priscilla is a home for struggling actresses, which means show-biz jokes. The dragon-lady-evil Mrs. Meers - the sublimely demented Harriet Harris - has been given an acceptable excuse for her pidgin Chinese accent and her trafficking in young women with no families. Not incidentally, the movie's boggling use of coolies as stupid pet tricks has been modernized with warmth, wit and supertitles for the amusing Ken Leung and Francis Jue.
Angela Christian brings an operetta soubrette wink and vocal range to the Mary Tyler Moore role of Millie's wealthy new starlet friend. Marc Kudisch knows just how to go for the big hambone profile as the stuffy, glamour-puss boss and Gavin Creel is agile, if a bit generic, as Millie's pauper suitor. Despite having to sound sultry in the most bland torch songs, Sheryl Lee Ralph, of "Dreamgirls" fame, carves out her own identity far from the zany Carol Channing role of the adventurous heiress.
Sammy Cahn's original title song remains, along with one or two others.
The rest of the score is unapologetically pastiche - an insane " "Nutcracker" for the speakeasy, clever new words for a modern-major-general "Pirates of Penzance" patter tune to match speed steno with speed singing in the office where secretaries tap as they type.
Jeanine Tesori, that most promising of new-musical composers, does not have much chance to show her own voice here. But her music fits the jazz-age style, David Gallo's sets find a few new ways to love the Manhattan skyline, and Martin Pakledinaz' costumes avoid the usual flapper cartoons.
I wish the attitude felt a bit less like a "Welcome Back to New York" ad campaign, but, clearly, any show that rhymes "adorable" with "Sodom and Gomorrah-ble" knows the territory.
Copyright © 2002, Newsday, Inc.
