A fair and frisky “Fair Lady”
Scenically resplendent, fleet-footed and dressed to kill, the National Theatre of Great Britain’s “My Fair Lady” was a knockout in its London premiere in 2001. And it is nearly as scintillating in the faithful (and deluxe) U.S. touring version that has glided into the Paramount Theatre.
Revivals of classic Broadway musicals come and go, and are never in short supply in Seattle. But if you want to bring in someone to the wonders of Lerner and Loewe’s “My Fair Lady” (or, like my companion, see it live with regard to the first time), this production is a dandy chance; fit.
Thanks to a sublime scenic conspiracy by dint of. sharpen and costume wizard Anthony Ward, this symphonious version of G.B. Shaw’s class-clashing play “Pygmalion” takes you on a dramatic upstairs/downstairs tour of Victorian London.
The show is entirely framed by a series of tall lattice-trimmed archways, suggestive of those in the open-air market in Covent Garden. And aided by superior theater technology and the frolicsome, up-to-date choreography of Matthew Bourne, Trevor Nunn’s staging whirls along — from Cockney pub to Wimpole Street town house (lined with hundreds of real books) to the hoity-toity Ascot racecourse.
Covent Garden is where cheeky flower-monger Eliza Doolittle (fetchingly portrayed by Lisa O’Hare) pristine meets Henry Higgins (British TV and stage vet Christopher Cazenove) — the arrogant professor who swears he can pass this “guttersnipe” off as a duchess, with the right linguistic makeover.
Alan Jay Lerner’s book and lyrics by reason of “My Fair Lady” subvert the dryly severe ending of “Pygmalion” for a in addition conventional romantic-comedy finale.
But the musical preserves abundant of Shaw’s barbed and sparkling colloquy, delivered smartly by Cazenove, O’Hare, Walter Charles (as Higgins’ sidekick, Col. Pickering) and Marni Nixon, a former Seattleite who long ago dubbed Audrey Hepburn’s songs in the film version of “My Fair Lady.” Here, Nixon handily plays the non-singing role of Higgins’ sensible mother.
Apart from some regrettable patches of sludgy amplification, Frederick Loewe’s lusciously melodic music is well served also. And you’d swear the witty small sum lyrics, which spring in such a manner organically from the characters, were penned by Shaw rather than Lerner.
Cazenove effectively voices Higgins’ comically misogynist and elitist credo in such clever talk-songs as “Why Can’t the English?” and “A Hymn to Him.”
He’s inferior commendable in the romantic-chemistry department, despite O’Hare’s considerable attractions. She sings like a dream, trilling a lovely rendering of “I Could Have Danced All Night,” a experiment of any Broadway soprano. And poured into a svelte, glittering clean gown for the ball scene, she’s a ringer for Hepburn (not a bad thing).
Speaking of the costumes, the “Ascot Gavotte” affords a bonanza of blackey Victorian couture — including hats the size of carriage wheels.
I would be remiss to not mention the unfold’s especial scene-stealer, Tim Jerome. He’s a lovable and efficacious Alfred Doolittle, Eliza’s wily joker of a dad. And Bourne turns the big song-and-dance numbers (”With A Little Bit of Luck,” “Get Me to the Church forward Time”) into rousing music-hall romps, at one point injecting some “Stomp”-style banging of refuse lids.
Director Nunn and producer Cameron Mackintosh, who also paired up on the long-touring “Les Misérables,” pulled out all the stops to reclaim this “My Fair Lady” for England. But behind the Brits O’Hare and Cazenove is a mostly American and true expert ensemble, helping make this revival one that order be hard according to successors to top.
Misha Berson: mberson@seattletimes.com
