Playwright: music by Frederick Loewe, lyrics by Alan Jay Lerner, adapted from Pygmalion, by George Bernard Shaw. At: Light Opera Works at Cahn Auditorium, 600 Emerson, Evanston. Phone: 847-869-6300; $46-$88. Runs through: Aug. 30
There are many reasons why this record-breaking musical is so rarely revived. For one, the verbal density engendered by a text based on George Bernard Shaw’s brainy comedy, compounded by a plot revolving around issues of class distinctions rooted in speech patterns, mandates that American actors not only speak with English accents, but scrupulously specific regional dialects. Then there is the sustained energy required of principals swapping this high-protein dialogue—not to mention a score to test any leading lady’s vocal stamina—as they pace like dressage horses amid elaborate scene changes and sumptuous ensemble spectacle on the Cahn Auditorium’s ballroom-sized stage for nearly three hours.
The biggest problem, however, in Alan Jay Lerner and Frederick Loewe’s musical adaptation of Shaw’s play (called by its author, a “romance”, even as he flouted the conventions of the “love story” at every opportunity), is the practice since its premiere in 1956, of casting the role of Henry Higgins with an actor at least twice the age of the waif who comes to him for instruction, when Shaw’s notes describe the gruff professor as “forty or thereabouts.” But Light Opera Works director Rudy Hogenmiller knows his audience, and has instead selected the thirtysome Nick Sandys to play Higgins, not as a misogynistic old curmudgeon, but the sort of scholarly geek—often found in Shakespeare—who hides his insecurities behind his intellect. Having presented us with a Benedick, Hogenmiller’s concept frees Natalie Ford’s Eliza Doolittle to evolve into his Beatrice, as the similarities in their stubbornly independent temperaments become manifest, thus maintaining Shaw’s unsentimental dynamic while still offering us a satisfying marriage of like MINDS.
A mid-20th century musical can’t be hefted on the shoulders of only two people, of course, and muscular support is forthcoming from William Chamberlain’s foozly sidekick, Jo Ann Minds’ imperturbable dowager, Barbara Clear’s capable housekeeper, Cary Lovett’s reprobate father (though too young and too yankeefied to be believable as a cockney dustman) and their 21 hard-working fellow players, in addition to Stacey Flaster’s eye-catching dances (ranging from formal court waltzes to street vendors’ knees-up frolics) and a full-pit orchestra allowing us to savor harmonies frequently obscured in more spartan productions. But the chemistry between Sandys and Ford is reason alone to make your way to this woefully short-running show.