Music of a Silent-Era Love Affair
In reworked, more upbeat 'Mack & Mabel,'
the score is still more charming than the words.
The romance between silent comedy director Mack Sennett and
his frequent star Mabel Normand was a mess, but they often tried to
rekindle the fire, according to the musical "Mack & Mabel."
Likewise, the problems of "Mack & Mabel" itself in 1974--a
disappointing Broadway run of only 66 performances, a widely
criticized libretto--have not prevented composer Jerry Herman from
returning to the material.
A new version, mounted by Reprise! at the Freud Playhouse, is a
reminder of the score's enduring charms and also an opportunity to
see "Scarlet Pimpernel" star Douglas Sills and Jane Krakowski of
"Ally McBeal" fame in something completely different. But the libretto
is still a major drawback.
Francine Pascal, whose late brother Michael Stewart wrote the
1974 book, reportedly tried to make the script both more authentic
and more romantic, with a happier ending.
As before, the show begins at the end. But the date of this scene
is now 1929, not 1938, so no one has to acknowledge Normand's
premature death in 1930.
The tone of Sennett's initial monologue is still bitter, though, and as
he intermittently returns from flashbacks to his narration, it's clear
that he has a lot of regrets. Yet Pascal simply drops the whole
flashback framework at the end. After a final reconciliation between
the two characters, you expect one more return to the Sennett
narration, yet instead the curtain calls begin. The happy ending feels
rigged.
Actually, by this point, the on-again, off-again twists in the central
romance are a bit wearying. The problem, especially in the second
act, is that the presentation of these twists lacks dramatic heft.
While the first act includes some notable fictions (Mack
"discovers" Mabel when she's working for a deli; in fact, she started
making movies without him), at least it develops in a plausibly
dramatic way, thanks in large part to the song "I Won't Send Roses,"
Mack's declaration of independence.
The later problems are indicated, however, by the use of
Herman's "Wherever He Ain't," Mabel's far more vigorous declaration
of independence, too early in the show--as the third song from the
end of the first act. In dramatic terms, this number is the high point of
Mabel's rebellion. Much of the rest of the show feels vaguely
anticlimactic.
After intermission, most of Mabel's key decisions--to run from or
return to Mack--occur offstage, not in musical numbers that can
match "Wherever He Ain't." These decisions, usually described
instead of shown, feel a bit arbitrary. Mabel's wistfully ironic "Time
Heals Everything" resonates but hardly propels the story.
The big ensemble numbers in the second act are even less
essential. "When Mabel Comes in the Room" is an attempt to re-create
the sycophantic tributes of the title songs of Herman's earlier "Hello,
Dolly!" and "Mame," but it isn't as good as its predecessors and
simply feels excessive. "Tap Your Troubles Away" is primarily an
excuse for a tap line, though it's briefly interrupted by the sounds of
offstage gunshots--as Mabel's other lover, director William Desmond
Taylor, is murdered.
Sills certainly looks and sounds different from the original's Robert
Preston. Sills' aristocratically handsome features, so right for "The
Scarlet Pimpernel," here make him look like Clark Gable. You wonder
why Sennett's the director, not the matinee idol himself, especially
when he melodramatically spits out some of his phrases. Still, he
spits them out in a street-side Brooklyn accent, far from fop territory.
And his singing voice soars up into Irish tenor territory, unlike
Preston's gruff growl--but perhaps just as valid, considering
Sennett's Irish roots.
Krakowski has all the requisite cutes and spunk as Mabel,
although she remains blond, while Normand usually was seen with
darker tresses. Krakowski's singing voice lacks a distinctive timbre,
but it's strong enough.
Donna McKechnie has the poorly developed role of Sennett's
previous female star, who hardly evinces any jealousy of Mabel and,
as compensation, leads the big tap number. It isn't the best fit for
someone of McKechnie's experience. Kudos for Robert Machray's
Fatty Arbuckle and Lane Davies as the oily Taylor.
Peter Matz's 18-piece orchestra performs with aplomb. There isn't
room to simulate the more elaborate silent movie comedy
effects--which may be just as well, judging from accounts of the first
production. But at least we get one well-executed pie-throwing
scene. Arthur Allan Seidelman directed with professional assurance.
-Don Shirley, LA Times
November 10, 2000
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