Let’s face it, who goes to musical theatre for plot? And
particularly when said plot involves a lovelorn Caliph and a
homeless poet’s daughter finding true love in the gardens of
Baghdad, circa 1071, and includes, for comic relief, a cuckolded
Wazir and his lustful wife. Based on a 1911 melodrama, with a
musical score adapted from the work of 19th-century
Russian composer, Alexander Borodin,
Kismet opened in
1953, won six Tonys, including Best Musical as well as one for
its star, Alfred Drake, and ran for 583 performances.
All of which might,
nonetheless, mean very little to those not versed in musical
theatre, or else born into a post-Eisenhower America – of whom
there seemed to be very few in attendance at the recent City
Center Encores! revival. No, this was an audience of theatre
cognoscenti, eager to hear again those Eisenhower-era
chart-topping radio hits “Stranger in Paradise,” “Baubles,
Bangles and Beads,” and “And This Is My Beloved.” And given
that this was the first revival of
Kismet since its
adaptation for Eartha Kitt inTimbuktu,
and the opening night performance of the City Center Encores!
series, and the performance sold-out, the anticipation was
palpable. Sondheim was in the house, as was former Citicorp
CEO, Sanford Weill, and yes, down in front, there was,
unmistakably, Paul Newman. Three giants in their own way, and
all three of them waiting for Paul Gemignani to take the stand
for the first time in his new role of Music Director.
Even during the overture, you
could almost hear the audience humming along. They knew this
score, forward and backward, and they anticipated every entrance
as if it were a window opening onto a more carefree world –
where Baghdad could be a punch line without any irony
whatsoever. And yet amidst the misty water-colored memories,
this production, thanks to a stellar cast, stood on its own.
Reprising the comic chemistry they evinced in
Kiss Me, Kate, Brian
Stokes Mitchell and Marin Mazzie imbued their
somewhat-mothballed roles with such zing and snap, and such
perfect diction in their singing, that even the most strained
rhymes hit their target.
And yet this was a show which
belonged to Marcy Harriell, playing Marsinah, the poet, Hajj’s,
daughter. As soon as she made her fleet-footed entrance with
her winsome combination of wide-eyed innocence and flirtatious
sauciness, Ms. Harriell captured the heart and soul of this
audience. Her rendition of “Stranger in Paradise” embodied
perfectly what it feels to be under the spell of another,
without a care in the world. And when later she sang “And This
is My Beloved,” in her crystal-clear soprano, the applause and
cheers circled the theatre as she brought down the house. Small
wonder then that at show’s end, the esteemed Mr. Newman was
quickly on his feet when Ms. Harriell took her bow.
Such were the many virtues of
this production that its quirks and historical license, as well
as the aforementioned plot contrivances, were easily forgiven.
When a cast includes Elizabeth Parkinson as a genie, working her
seductive and extremely potent wiles on the audience, without
uttering a single word, and with Lonny Price as director and
John Lee Beatty in charge of sets, it’s understandable why the
majority of the audience quickly followed Mr. Newman’s lead.
Whether or not,
Kismet travels
onward from here hardly matters, for it was evident that this
night’s audience had once again found their paradise in their
fondly-remembered oasis just outside of Baghdad.
