Dusting off 'The Drowsy Chaperone'

When a musical hinges on the conceit of a fourth-wall shattering lead character who lambasts the performances on stage for being corny, I feel like I've lost my hook for a review. But then I remember I'm writing on the internet, where each extraneous word is merely one lost reader. So I'll try and be as succinct as possible while I sing the praises of this year's holiday offering from the Playhouse, and leave the sarcasm to the writers of The Drowsy Chaperone.

Filled with the elaborate dancing and blaring brass that came to define Broadway in the '20s (and beyond), this Canadian-penned production-- billed as a "musical within a comedy" --laces all that extravagant cliché with some serious self-awareness, and is bound to appeal to diehard fans and mockers of musical theatre alike. If you're a Broadway cynic but still have a softspot for tap dancing and sequins, you couldn't wish for more than this affectionate parody...

The production opens in complete darkness, with a lonely old man seated stage left, ready to get nostalgic and urging the audience to take a listen to his original cast recording of the 1928 Broadway 'chestnut' The Drowsy Chaperone. It's the only thing the ol' guy can do to combat his blues in these long and troubled days. I'm a bit of loner who offsets the depression with music, so I can relate... but 1920s musical theatre? Normally if I were placed in this situation (old man breaks out the gramophone and begins dusting off his eighty year old 78) I'd slowly start making for the back door, but this Drowsy Chaperone first made it big at the Toronto Fringe, and went on to win a ton of awards on Broadway. I had some faith.

The piece was originally conceived in Toronto circa 1999 as a straight up (and significantly more risqué) musical spoof by Lisa Lambert, Greg Morrison, and Don McKellar to celebrate actor and friend Bob Martin's wedding. I guess Martin was so impressed by the parody that he joined the team to adapt the performance for the Fringe. After rave reviews and subsequent tours, the musical opened on Broadway in May of 2006 and went on to win a number of Tony awards. It's now achieved the status of legend among independent Canadian theatre types, and is added proof of this country's comedic prowess.

While there wasn't much in the way of glitter or balladry for the character (not to mention a dissapointing lack of tap), Jay Brazeau was at his very best as the unnamed "Man in Chair," utterly convincing from the start as the lonely old theatre fanatic who frames the show. After he throws on the record he giddily ambles around the stage and alternately fawns over the performances, waxes nostalgic, and makes excuses for the musical's lame-duckery. Easily stealing the show from the largely non-local cast, Brazeau's passionate bumbling (and occasional rant) made him feel like the Grandfather I'm glad I never had. Though I'm sure happy to have spent the 100 minutes with him... oh, and a quick musical.

Brazeau's character isn't just goofy fun, but is written and played with such complete sincerity that he adds a whole layer of authentic emotional investment to the story. One scene, where 'Man' nears complete breakdown at the interruption of a ringing phone verges on the devastating, and is just one of many tender moments. It's that kind of authenticity that is missing from your typical evening of song-and-dance; Chaperone ultimatley both mocks the Broadway formula and refines it. Without Man in Chair, the production would really be reduced to frivolous musical parody...

But wow, that frivolous musical parody is pretty entertaining. The program name checks Christopher Guest and while there were only a few moments that really reached said levels of satirical brilliance, the old fashioned humour on stage (the physical comedy, the wordplay, the monkeys) was certainly a cathartic comedic break from my usual stream of ADD addled internet sarcasm. The boozing titular character had to be my favorite singing role, played with some sleazy conviction by Gabrielle Jones. Her exaggerated aloofness and nihilism reaches a crux with the near show-stopping performance of "As We Stumble Along":

Seven overrated wonders,
Seven underwhelming seas,
Six excruciating continents,
Antarctica?
Oh please...

If you think her character is over the top, she's got nothing on the absurd antics of the stereotyped-to-the-core latin lothario, Adolpho. The bombastic role was handled with energetic confidence by Thom Allison, who just about nailed the demanding physicality. And while the other main players didn't quite blow me away like those in some other recent productions, their roles were also far more demanding. Comedy is tough; comedy in song while dancing in synchronicity is in a whole different league.

Laird Mackintosh and Debbie Timuss are both great as Robert and Janet, the couple whose wedding drives the 'plot,' and the costumes, choreography, and wonderful set were all effective; after catching this show mid-run, it's clear that director Max Reimer and crew have just about perfected this Vancouver production. My biggest complaint-- one that I've seen echoed elsewhere --was the strength of some actors' voices. I was near the back, and whether it was the acoustics (no mics) or the performers, a few of the numbers were really missing some vocal 'oomph.' Yep, oomph. Still, show me George Bailey as a tap-dancing tenor and I'll be more crtical of these just slightly-sub-Broadway performances.

I've almost forgotten Neil Minor and Shawn Macdonald, who are hilarious as two incessantly punning gangsters in pastry chef disguises, though the exaggerated schtick does grow a little tiresome by the end. That's the inescapable dilemma with this kind of satire: when you attempt to make fun of something for being cloying or cheesy, it's hard to prevent your own parody from being pretty corny itself... and this show has its fair share of eye-rolling moments. Knowing it was originally created for a stag party, I can only imagine how truly great this musical could have been in its original, edgier form.

For all its poking fun at the conventions and absurdity of those early musicals (and artstic nostalgia at large), at the heart this production shows a genuine love of the genre. Man in Chair adores the theatre, and his innocently exaggerated passion for the cornball production-- as he fawns over the players and anticipates his favourite numbers with unrestrained glee --is so heartfelt it hurts. Anyone who's fostered a significant relationship with an artwork knows how it can reduce the best of us to blubbering babies, and I'm sure that anyone who finds themselves seated in the Playhouse Theatre will appreciate what ultimately becomes a testament to the power of art.

While the show has already been praised by every paid reviewer in town, I can definitely add this: if you've only got room for one night of theatre this season, The Drowsy Chaperone is probably your best choice. Unless, of course, you need to entertain the kids (they'll probably laugh a lot at Adolpho, but may just miss the irony of that stereotype... not to mention the prohibition puns), or just have an outright aversion to song on stage. Then I'd still recommend this one.

Otherwise, this singular Canadian fringe-via-Broadway production is a complete winner. It's unique, edgy and challenging while still providing that honest escapism we look for in a musical, especially at this time of year. We're all lucky to live in a city that has a steady flow of such high-profile theatre, and while even I may not have bitten the B&B bullet, this particular cocktail of clichés and campy tradition is spiked with some serious wit... just make sure to get your own drinks in before the show; Man in Chair hates intermissions.

Drowsy Chaperone plays at the Playhouse Theatre until December 27.