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A Vibrant Revival of "Pajama Game"

“Pajama Game”
Directed and choreographed by Kathleen Marshall
Roundabout Theatre Company
American Airlines Theater
New York, NY
February 18, 2006
 
by Susan Reiter
copyright ©2006 by Susan Reiter

When “The Pajama Game” opened in 1954, it featured a couple of significant firsts. Bob Fosse’s name appeared for the first time as the choreographer of a Broadway show, and Jerome Robbinsalthough by then a ten-year veteran of Broadwaywas credited solely as co-director, marking the first time he was not credited as choreographer. (Various sources mention his “supervising” the newcomer Fosse, and Deborah Jowitt’s biography of Robbins includes his own itemization of his contributions to the show, which included sole responsibility for several major numbers.)

Later that year, Robbins took full charge of “Peter Pan,” the first show for which he was clearly the man in charge—both (sole) director and choreographer, and of course he went on to set the standard for (one could say to invent) that joint responsibility. Fosse soon went on to become another legendary director-choreographer, and others soon joined the ranks of that hyphenate: Gower Champion, Tommy Tune, Michael Bennett.

These days, director-choreographers have become scarce on Broadway. Rob Marshall had just started to transition into the ranks when he shifted his focus to film, where he brilliantly took on both jobs for “Chicago” (2002). Whether and when he returns to the stage remains to be seen. Susan Stroman was his only rival, but her most recent production was “The Frogs,” in the summer of 2004, and she seems to have no imminent upcoming Broadway projects.

Sustaining the line of director-choreographers most actively these days is Kathleen Marshall, who was her brother Rob’s assistant on some of his early Broadway projects (such as the mid-1990s revivals of “She Loves Me” and “Damn Yankees”) before branching out on her own. She had a worthy laboratory to test her skills during her tenure with City Center’s invaluable Encores series, which presents semi-staged productions of vintage Broadway musicals. Her finest work there, directing and choreographing “Wonderful Town,” showcased her pitch-perfect sense of style and period, and leavened the material with just the right zesty dose of wit. The production transferred to Broadway in 2003, and Marshall won the Tony Award for choreography.
  
In “Wonderful Town,” Marshall lovingly evoked the 1930s (complete with a hilarious little send-up of early Martha Graham during the brilliant scene-setting opening number), and in her robust choreography for the 1999 revival of “Kiss Me Kate,” she captured the spirit of 1940s jive and vividly evoked the backstage atmosphere of a touring show from that period. Last summer, she had an affectionate field day with the 1960s-flavored “Two Gentlemen of Verona,” at Central Park’s Delacorte Theater, which she directed and choreographed as a free-wheeling flower power-meets samba celebration that swayed and grooved from its first moments to its last.

Marshall’s latest production, a vibrant, lavish revival of “The Pajama Game,” allows her to focus on the one decade she skipped among those recent ventures. The show focuses on a labor conflict at a unionized Iowa pajama manufacturing company, and features lots of wacky, even cartoonish characters surrounding—of course—a central love story that has to navigate some inevitable ups and downs. It has a brassiness and broadness that mark some of the 1950s musicals that hover near, but not within, the canon of truly great shows from Broadway’s golden era. The score, by the then-youthful team of Richard Adler and Jerry Ross, includes songs that went on to a life of their own (the rueful ballad “Hey There” and the sly tango-flavored “Hernando’s Hideaway”) and it has a sassy frankness that belies the standard image of the buttoned-up fifties.

This revival is very much focused on a male heart-throb, since the genial, squarely handsome Harry Connick, Jr. plays the leading role of Sid Sorokin, the (initially) all-business plant supervisor. Marshall playfully makes the most of the role-reversal, setting up Connick as the object of every female employee’s longing glances. Wouldn’t you know it, his head is turned by the one woman on the premises with not interest in him—union rep Babe Williams (Kelli O’Hara). Their co-workers include a notably nerdy, rubber-legged union activist (Peter Benson), a ditzy, easily swayed secretary (Megan Lawrence), a guy obsessed with tine-management whose idea of fun is knife-throwing, and a bevy of chatty, easily distracted female laborers.

It’s a big, busy, gaudy show, and this revival, with its vibrantly-colored sets (by Derek McLane) and jaunty costuming (by frequent Marshall collaborator Martin Pakledinaz), bustles with life and verve right from the start. The opening number briskly establishes the bustling activity of the workplace. As seamstresses glide through synchronized movements at their sewing machines, workmen glide carts of brightly patterned fabric across the floor, and racks of pajamas glide across overhead, various secondary characters pass through long enough to introduce themselves to the audience.
 
From the start, it’s clear that Marshall has assembled not a sleek Broadway chorus but an ensemble of the dance equivalent of character actors. When the seamstresses surround and tease Babe in the cafeteria as she denies any attraction to Sid during “I’m Not at All in Love,” they subtly shift from gossipy regular gals into dancers, as Marshall weaves a food cart into the action, and even includes a nod to “America” from “West Side Story,” another number where women with differing opinions face off.

Marshall has plenty of extended dance numbers to stage in the show, including the iconic “Steam Heat,” which became one of Fosse’s best-known numbers; its original choreography is preserved in the 1957 film of the musical, and was included in the 1999 Broadway revue “Fosse.” Marshall has an ace in the hole in the petite dynamo Joyce Chittick, who’s at the center of this tight trio. Her character, Mae, spent the first act looking glum and acting like a loser, hidden behind glasses and baggy overalls. Seemingly liberated into true womanhood once she gets the attention of the nerdy-goofy Prez, she turns vivacious and pulls out all the stops in this number (which is somehow made relevant to the plot by serving as the entertainment at a union rally). Initially, Marshall keeps Chittick, David Eggers and Vince Pesce locked in close, tight slouchy formation, swiveling their hips and shrugging their shoulders juicily. The number then opens out as Chittick sheds her costume to become a leggy showgirl. The men don’t register strongly enough, and the number loses some of its claustrophobic insistence and deadpan allure.

The big ensemble dance number in Act One, “Once a Year Day”—set at the company picnic—showcases Marshall’s gift for filling the stage with, robust, invigorating movement, and is endearing for the way everyone, of whatever size or shape, participates in the dancing. One by one, couples find each other and pair up. It does feel over-extended, and by the time it ends with everyone collapsing with happy exhaustion, the audience feels a bit exhausted as well.

“Hernando’s Hideaway,” the novelty, ostensibly naughty, big dance set piece of Act Two, gets mired in rather generic Latin-flavored couples dancing but then busts loose when Connick seizes an out-of-tune piano and turns things hot and bluesy with his improvisations. Dramatically, one could quibble—how did rigid Sid Sorokin become a skilled, extroverted keyboard player?—but given Connick’s special talents, and the fact the number has little dramatic connection to the plot, one can make allowances.

Marshall has done sparkling work with several smaller character numbers. After earth-mother secretary Mabel (the divine Roz Ryan, whose timing is flawless) trains Hines, the time-management guy, not to be so jealous, they join in a delightfully natural, good-natured soft shoe turn. It was the only moment during the show when the annoying, undisciplined Michael McKean, who plays Hines, seemed comfortable on stage. A silly comedy number, “Her Is,” becomes a great showcase for the quirky dance abilities of Peter Benson, as Prez, and the brilliantly eccentric Megan Lawrence, who oozes ditziness out of every pore. Hs hyperactive antics range from an attempted tango to bouncy gymnastics, while she manages to be both a floppy rag doll and a droll comedic foil.

“Pajama Game” feels buoyant during the first act, but comes a bit down to earth during act two. Some of its later songs have an obligatory, rather than inspired. The real winners—“I’m Not at all in Love,” “Hey There” and “There Once was a Man”—are in act one. Also, after the Babe-Sid romance is such a focus of the first act, we seem to lose them for much of act two. The book scenes concerning the strike for a pay raise—a major plot point, sits it pits Babe and Sid on opposite sides – are leaden, and the happy resolution feels perfunctory. But there is still a lot of fun to be had along the way, thanks to the energy and eccentricities of a sprightly cast and an invigorating momentum with which Marshall imbues the proceedings.
  

Kelli O'Hara and Harry Connick, Jr. in "Pajama Game." Photo: Joan Marcus.

Volume 4, No. 8
February 27, 2006
copyright ©2006 Susan Reiter
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last updated on February 27, 2006