Interludes

VIEWPOINTS – Radical deconstructions: The hyped Broadway revival of SUNSET BLVD. and the confounding SHOWGIRL at NYU Skirball

• By drediman
• October 21, 2024
• No Comments

I recently had the opportunity to take in a pair of provocative productions by adventurous theater-makers that radically deconstruct recognizable works of pop culture, challenging audiences to look at them in a new light. Through the lens of time and some rather extensive excavation, the following are what they came up with.

SUNSET BLVD.
St. James Theatre
Open run

It’s been quite the year for Andrew Lloyd Webber. In addition to the inspired re-imagining that of Cats (“The Jellicle Ball” at PAC NYC) and a very entertaining revival of Starlight Express in London, we now have the Broadway transfer of Jamie Lloyd’s much hyped Sunset Blvd. at the St. James Theatre (HIGHLY RECOMMENDED). I was shocked and awed when I first saw Lloyd’s stripped down revival across the pond. Although I can’t say that my reaction to it on Broadway was as visceral as that first viewing, I still believe the shrewd, bold production is a case wherein an auteur’s aesthetic aligns brilliantly with the material, beginning with its coincidental homage to black and white films (most of the director’s productions feature sleek, simple black costumes). Being a musical about the movies, Lloyd atmospherically drastically amps up the camp, horror, and film noir aspects, while smartly dropping some of the show’s more cloying musical theater songs, notably “The Lady’s Paying” and “Eternal Youth Is Worth a Little Suffering” (both of which use the same melody). And if there was a musical that could justify such ample usage of film in its staging — some attempts are more superfluous than others — it would probably be this one. But most importantly, this Sunset Blvd. has the emotional scale of grand opera (Lloyd still manages to conjure spectacle on a bare stage) and the timelessness and chilling inevitability of Greek tragedy, largely via Nicole Scherzinger’s vampiric, literally larger-than-life performance as the delusional aging film star Norma Desmond. It’s a feral, voracious, and terrifyingly campy piece of acting that forms the undeniable nexus of Lloyd’s vision. Her primary pawns are portrayed by the same fine actors who played them in London — Tom Francis as Joe, David Thaxton as Max, and Grace Hodgett Young as Betty. Each continue to give disarmingly deadpan performances that suggest the soul-sucking effect of working in Hollywood, almost as if zombies in their own lives.

SHOWGIRL
NYU Skirball
Closed

Then for just a hot second over at NYU Skirball (blink and you’ll likely have missed it) — which is in the midst of an ambitious fall season — I was able to catch the second of two performances of Showgirl (SOMEWHAT RECOMMENDED), Jonathan Drillet and Marlène Saldana’s freewheeling take on Dutch filmmaker Paul Verhoeven’s 1995 cult film Showgirls starring Elizabeth Berkley. Programmed as part of this fall’s Crossing the Line festival co-presented by L’Alliance New York (the piece was originally seen in 2021 at Théâtre Saint Gervais, Geneva), Showgirl is not so much a regurgitated retelling as it is a loose, commentary-ridden riff on the notorious film. Originally met with scathing critical reception, the movie has since been championed by some as perhaps being more substantial than first meets the eye, particularly with respect to gender politics and pop expressionism. Undauntedly performed in French — with English titles — by the duo of Saldana and Drillet, the work unfolds organically as a sort of hallucinatory drag cabaret-cum-film lecture that takes place inside the mind of the film’s desperate heroine, whose story bears more than a passing resemblance to Norma Desmond’s (both are unquivocable survivors in the entertainment industry). Perhaps the evening’s secret weapon was Rebeka Warrior’s insistent, bop-filled original songs — addictive ear worms that dig themselves into you brain — which thoroughly embrace the production’s go-for-broke kitsch sensibility, certainly more effectively than Saldana and Drillet’s often meandering and self-indulgent banter with each other and the audience (admittedly, my reaction may be in part due to some nuances having been lost in translation). Suffice to say, much of the audience were left confounded, and there were a some walkouts throughout.