I’m often surprised that The Fantasticks, the longest-running show in the history of the United States, is so unfamiliar to many of us. This “perennially popular” musical played Off Broadway for 40-some years, yet a surprising number of folks have never seen it. I myself only caught a production of it a couple years ago at Triton College. If you’ve never experienced this charming musical parable, don’t miss Village Players’ opening show of their 46th season. Here’s your chance to see a solid, well-directed production showcasing flashy acting and strong voices selling a beautiful score. There was a very enthusiastic audience at the opening matinee performance Sunday afternoon.
The Fantasticks is an appealingly modest show, featuring eight actors accompanied by a piano and a harp on a basically bare stage. Yes, perhaps the story is flimsy and somewhat inconsequential, but this production is invigorated by the actors’ fine vocal performances.
Though we enter a highly stylized, fantasy world, the characters confront recognizable problems still encountered by modern people. Director Bill Brennan deftly guides his charismatic cast through this coming-of-age story of love lost and found.
When The Fantasticks opened in 1960, during a year of spectacles like The Sound of Music and The Music Man, this slight fable about love gone wrong, then right again, seemed unique, intimate, and endearing. Several catchy songs from the score-music by Harvey Schmidt and lyrics by Tom Jones-became beloved standards. The show lasted through 10 U.S. presidents and put a lot of performers on the map in the process. Jerry Orbach was the first narrator. Early on, Liza Minelli played the ingnue role.
There was a movie version of this musical released in 2000, but you’ll be hard pressed to find anyone who’s seen it. Though the film was held for five years before it was recut and finally released, it bombed badly anyhow. Apparently the subtle magic that makes the stage show so endearing simply failed to light up the big screen.
I was surprised to learn the Romeo-and-Juliet plot was actually adapted from a rather obscure 1894 play by Edmond Rostand.
A pair of neighbors (Chris Aruffo and Guy Klinzing) fake a feud in an effort to bring their son and daughter together. They’re pretending to be enemies, believing the reverse psychology idea that children only do the opposite of their parents’ wishes will cause their kids to fall for one another. It works.
These two fathers, who play off each other like a pair of old-time vaudevillians, share a couple of fun song-and-dance numbers.
In the young lover roles, which in lesser hands might have come off as sappy or cartoonish, Clara Reaves plays innocent daydreamer Luisa while romantic, earnest Matt is played by Tug Watson.
Though the two young people are drawn together because of their meddling fathers, they soon grow bored and restless. Will absence make their hearts grow fonder before discovering a more mature love or will they permanently separate?
Andy Baldeschwiler is El Gallo, the virtually ever-present narrator, who guides the story from episode to episode. He is the dashing rogue who sings the “signature-song” opening ballad, inviting us to “Try to remember/The kind of September/When life was slow/And oh so mellow.”
Daniel Bakken plays a roving old thespian who recites mixed-up passages from Shakespeare while Dan Marco, his Cockney sidekick, does a hilarious turn as a performer who specializes in death scenes. These two over-the-top, down-on-their-luck, ham actors are hired to stage a mock kidnapping of the girl which will hopefully prompt the boy to rescue her from the fake bandits.
Carole McCurdy is a mime who represents various set pieces and silent characters, such as the wall that separates the young lovers.
The actors all sit upstage with their backs to the audience, facing into the darkness when they’re not “on.”
There are a couple of politically incorrect themes in this 1960 show, especially the mock rape number, “It Depends on What You Pay.” The term “rape” as used here is its classical sense as a type of romantic abduction, as in “The Rape of the Sabine Women.”
The musical director, Nick Sula, is also the pianist. The harpist, Mata Cook, often punctuates bits of action or provides sound effects, such as the fluttering of a bird.
Though it’s not a big dance show, choreographer Shawn Quinlan has everyone moving well.
The lighting design by Andrew Glasenhart incorporates some striking use of a scrim and performers lit from behind so they appear in silhouette, as in the shadow vignettes that were featured on old-time vaudeville bills.
It’s not a flashy show. There is minimal costuming and a minimalist set by Bill Jenkinds. Yet The Fantasticks is a lovely musical which for a couple hours transports us to another time and place. It’s a pleasant bit of escapism.Â
