From Carousel at Regent’s Park to the rest of The Great White Way
What IS worth the use of wond’rin’ about as theatre returns in 2021 and beyond?
Seeing the new production of Carousel at Regent’s Park Open Air Theatre in London this summer has prompted me to ask some challenging questions, both of Rodgers and Hammerstein’s much beloved Golden Age classic itself, and also more widely as to the surrounding theatrical climate as theatre returns in 2021 after this protracted period of absence.
What shows are we staging, and why? How do we go about staging these shows or revivals? And who is responsible for staging them? – to list a few.
Some theatregoers are praising the joyous return to the escapism of classic musicals after such a long period of hardship. And some are banging on doors demanding change and betterment. Considering this production of Carousel and how much alteration has been done to a classic musical in this modern age speaks more broadly to the degree of revision accepted as being required as productions begin to return. Closer and more detailed examination of this new production might well raise more questions than there are answers for. But they are questions and aspects that are potentially worthy, or necessary, of examining nonetheless.
Ultimately, the inescapable verdict with this starting example is that a Golden Age musical centring on domestic abuse is unavoidably on very precarious ground in this modern climate, 75 years after it was written. And that’s even before you consider trying to stage it as one of the first shows emerging from a pandemic that has foregrounded a rise in domestic abuse and violence against women during its last two years.
Clearly it would be foolish to expect current audiences to tolerate being made to unironically swallow infamous lines, like “He hit me, mother, he hit me hard, but it didn't hurt – it felt like a kiss”. Not least while they’re all sat with programmes on their laps that brazenly open with a two-page spread addressing the “epidemic within the pandemic” on domestic violence abuse crimes.
So, much retooling has been done to the exposed story of a problematic and abusive relationship in attempts at countering some of these issues – as one of the many revisions that has occurred in trying to ‘update’ this production for more modern audiences.
The show’s handling of Billy Bigelow’s character as it’s abusive male protagonist renders him no longer completely repulsive for his actions or attitudes. He is denied upwards ascendency to some heavenly realm at the beginning or the chance to return and perpetuate the same violence with his daughter and the end. Moreover, it is female not male voices that now reckon with his judgement in purgatory, and the infamous and problematic lines regarding Julie and Louise’s exchange on domestic violence are quietly eliminated. As such, Billy is not allowed redemption in spite of his sins, and the women glean a more fortified and less meek presence.
But the show potentially takes out more than it adds in these changes, and loses some dimension. It seems it is aware of itself as being a show about domestic abuse, but it doesn’t really seem to have anything other to say about it than: “it exists”. Billy is also denied any chance of reflection to either open or close the show, which means he doesn’t get the chance to exhibit any trace of genuine familial care and concern for the fate of his wife and child. This is a change that noticeably causes the show to lose some of its impact, as he thus appears entirely unlikeable and there’s no longer any reason to care for him in the first place.
The new alterations are wise. But they're not faultless.
Other changes have been made to ‘modernise’ the show and make it feel at home in the 21st century – especially to the sound, orchestrations and appearance of the production – which also foregrounds the notion of examining how one constructs a revival.
Tom Deering as the show’s orchestrator illustrated in a podcast some of the primary rationality and justifications for these logistical alterations, like that they “were being driven by dramatic choices and the philosophical change in location and time”.
This referred-to “change” concerns the setting of the production being moved from 1873–1888 in sunny and American New-England, to approximately the 1960s or 70s in a “coastal town in the north of England”. This lends the intention of a more gritty, industrial, and “post-war communal feel” to the show and has a substantial impact.
For one, the piece has been fairly radically reorchestrated. Gone are familiar elements like lush string sections, as an example. In their place attempting to provide corresponding tones are foreign and strange instruments like glass harmonicas and electric guitars. Changes like these are novel and commendable for not simply resorting to synthetic sampling, and credibly reasoned in relation to Deering’s motivations for wanting to “try to imagine a musical palette that felt suitable for this radically reimagined production”. Even so. That doesn’t stop them from feeling audibly jarring at times, at least at a first listen. Unless one is already familiar with matters like versions of ‘You’ll Never Walk Alone’ with opening strains played on electric guitar, that is.
The justification of the altered setting also drives the change in vocal sound and style. Primarily, many of the keys have been dropped. It is possible to understand the reasoning that soaring, pristine, received-pronunciation vibrato does not apt characterisation for a lower working-class Northerner make. This along with rationality from Deering that the piece was written 75 years ago, indicating that the “relationship between singing voice and speaking voice has changed during that time – as have ladies’ voices dropped significantly”, explains the motivation for lowering female vocal keys. Deering also states the point that large contrasts between spoken dialect and sung portions are less accessible to audience members; and as such, reducing the difference in these transitions reduces the “distance between the audience, particularly a younger audience, and the story itself” in order make transitions “easier” and more “accessible”.
This speaks more broadly to the current trends in modern musical theatre writing, concerning the disappearance of the pure soprano sound, vocal homogenisation, and a reliance on straight tones and belting. Some may wish this wasn’t the case, and counter that line of reasoning in thinking that in fact an audience is still capable of appreciating that a piece can be accepted and can carry authentic emotional sentiment even if it appears a notable contrast in register from spoken sections. The manners of these changes in such a revival as this may engender an unfortunate sense of disappointment, at it is predominantly in these classic Golden Age scores that the dwindling upper octaves of an authentic soprano sound still get the rare chance to be heard nowadays.
In a similar vein as above, arguably if perfect polished RP creates a level of unreal artifice, so too do manicured, uniform accents apparently. There is no enforced conformation to a standardised regional dialect here. Instead, the production has cast members all keep their own varied, regional British accents. So while the show is meant to be set somewhere in the north of England (and there are northerners), there are also Welsh or Cockney or London-ish or more central tones in there too.
The desire for this was to scrape “away another layer of artifice, lending an authentic weight”.
This change does have some benefits or justifications of enabling the maintenance of the heterogeneity and diversity within the cast members as seen with respect to the actors here themselves. But it also somewhat causes a lack in central coherence and lessens the impact of the piece. Here, de-homogenisation for inclusivity’s sake appears to counter the actual intention or point of the show in the first place, in interfering with one of its central themes of community. The actors appear less as united characters, and more as, well, actors. Or themselves. As a collective group, the sound no longer reflects what the dialects of a community of working-class people all in a similar geographical area would sound like. Instead, it feels physically non-specific and ungrounded, as if an assortment of people from all over the UK have been banded together for some indiscriminate reason. Crucially, the people on stage are no longer a unified, tight-knit community, in a tangible location, of similar socio-economic statuses, common histories, and shared professions in the same place by necessity not choice – as is integral to the show’s basis.
This notion of modern changes to a show conflicting with the show itself is not a new notion, and it does demand confrontation and raise queries of the impacts to the technical alterations in ‘updating’ beloved or fondly nostalgic musicals.
In a point that feels somewhat subversive to mention, qualms were raised in earlier notable revivals of Carousel decades ago – with the specifics of methods to do with enacting modernisation via the hitherto novel “use of multiracial casting”. Having black actors like Clive Rowe play Enoch Snow in the original 1992 London revival, or Audra McDonald as Carrie and Shirley Verrett as Nettie in the subsequent 1994 Broadway transfer, for example, forces reckoning of whether colour is intended to be ‘seen’, or just blindly overlooked. Simply casting the most talented actors fits with the latter, and should not be dismissed as valid casting practice – lest there be no evolution ever of diversity in historically write-centric shows. But the former, if the differences of race are to be actually acknowledged, necessitates comprehension of a 19th century New England town that can supposedly tolerate at least some degree of being “liberal and liberating”. According to John Simon of New York Magazine in 1994, this arguably “militates against the meaning of the work”, in reference to the story’s dependence on insular, old-fashioned, and intolerant attitudes. Simon said, “There was certainly a case to be made that if the townsfolk were so otherwise enlightened, then why did they ostracize innocent Louise, who wasn’t even born when Billy attempted his botched robbery?”.
It’s a complex issue. And modernisation or increased diversity itself is not the problem – seldom is it not desired or necessary. But it’s a matter hard to reconcile if it impairs any of the show’s core elements or its logic.
As a corollary, one could cite Marianne Elliott’s new and muchly hyped production of Company for evidence of newly updated staging features in further conflicts against impacts of original source material. There’s much to be gained in this new production – like elevated queerness or the apparent increased pertinence of discussion of society’s perspectives on a female, instead of male, bachelor ageing with her ticking biological clock. But there’s a lot lost too.
An important example concerns the switch made to change Amy to Jamie. ‘Getting Married Today’ turns now into a hypochondriacally pattered aria by a stereotypically dramatic gay male in little more than a fleeting, anguished cold-feet spiral. It is no longer also a woman questioning the bedrock of the institution of antiquated heterosexual marriage, built upon centuries of historic female subservience, oppression, violence and even murder at the hands of their domineering male counterparts.
Amy’s original exclamations as to how Paul will “want to kill me, which he should,” or her “floating in the Hudson”, or dying “like Eliza on the ice” (in allusion to Uncle Tom’s Cabin with the young girl fleeting from her male captor), may appear flippant and humorous in the song. And sung by a male – that is when they’re not removed – they primarily appear as simple hyperbole. But as long as America remains a place whereby “four women are murdered every day in this country by a male partner” (as Heidi Schreck cites in her play, What the Constitution Means to Me), the original implications remain unignorably alarming.
The song thus carries intrinsic weight when sung by a woman that it cannot gain back in this new context – subsequently diluting an element of the musical’s original impact.
None of this is to say all methods of introducing change revivals and attempting to “re-invent” are bad, however. For instance, Bill Rauch’s recent revival of Oklahoma! (as another Rodgers and Hammerstein ‘classic’) performed in Oregon in 2018, also featured gender flipped characters, an abundances of queerness, as well as considerable racial diversity. And it was heralded as both logical and a triumph, or “natural and organic” and “beautiful and poignant”. Such positive sentiments were seen too for the “revolutionary” 2019 Broadway revival.
Even closer to home, people had been clamouring for change and revisional updates to Carousel itself as early as the very year it was created in 1945. The piece exhibits non-trivial similarities to the creative duo’s previous work with Oklahoma!, and it was reasoned this “formula was becoming a bit monotonous” – as too “were [Agnes] De Mille’s ballets” , which were appreciably abundant on Broadway in the ‘40s and ‘50s. By the time the memorable London transfer arrived in New York in 1994, it was decried it was “nice to finally see a Carousel free of Agnes de Mille’s overly familiar choreography”. The novel changes here to Louise’s ballet in this new Regent’s Park revival through Drew McOnie’s choreography were seen as a success and favourably received, in making the production “come alive”. At this point in the second act for the dance sequence, towering poles appear on stage to emulate prison bars, the pace of the stage revolve increases, and a vividly sinister male influence becomes evident through their presence and visceral movements. These elements serve to compound a sense of frenzied, building anxiety and cyclical inevitability of a woman once again being trapped in a repeating pattern of being mistreated by men. Consequently here, the show’s primary themes are sustained, if not even further enhanced.
Change is necessary in theatre in order to prevent the stagnation, irrelevance, or outdatedness of staging shows from decades or even centuries ago. It has to be questioned how new revivals can be staged today before creating them, otherwise the risk is high of them becoming incompatible with modern audiences against their precursors as written in entirely different cultural and historic environments.
Some of the specific technicalities of attempted methods of modernisation will be perceived to work. Some will not. In all likelihood, you might not know which is which until they are attempted.
Because of this, it seems important to indicate that change and alteration with the aim of innovation should not be discouraged for creatives within theatrical realms, just on the basis that not everything tried comes off as ‘successful’.
As to this new production of Carousel, one review as written in the i Newspaper by Sam Marlowe puts it just about as well as I can think to put it to conclude consideration of it: “This is an admirably gutsy approach to a deeply flawed classic”.
Many of the modifications in this “tough radical reinterpretation”, as put together by an assiduous creative team, have been made with good intentions, after being substantially thought-through, and executed within the possible logistical parameters afforded.
It’s far from perfect, but appreciably it still deserves credit for trying. And indeed, this classic is deeply flawed.
Suggesting we ‘cancel’ Rodgers and Hammerstein is far from the aim. But it is important to recognise the show itself does have some inherent flaws, and to accept that there might be a limit to how much it can be expected to achieve via alterations to stagings while modernising a show – without completely rewriting the original.
A recently published article published in The Telegraph, entitled “Can the cancel mob please leave our classic musicals alone?”, reasons against this line of thinking. The point of quoting South Pacific and ‘You’ve Got to Be Carefully Taught’ as evidence that Rodgers and Hammerstein were “not reactionary dinosaurs whose work should be immediately cancelled” does work on some grounds. It proves an understanding of racial prejudice, yes. But it does not absolve them of all sins forever, particularly female-related ones.
Potentially, irrespective of how you orchestrate it, ‘What’s the Use of Wond’rin’’, for example, is still via its lyrics at its core a deeply antiquated and misogynistic song that displays a complete disregard for women and a lack of understanding of writing for their sex, given the presentation as making it permissible to accept and be content with such violent and abusive male treatment.
Being based on the dark and heavy 1909 play Liliom by Ferenc Molnar, the subject matter of Carousel to begin with is not light, joyful fare. Nor that obviously ripe for musicalisation. It’s interesting to note that rather than Rodgers and Hammerstein, Kurt Weill was among those initially considered to compose the musical adaptation, before being rejected by Molnar. Known far more strongly for dark, brooding, biting works, the German-born composer would certainly have provided an interesting and likely very different version of ‘Carousel’ – in contrast to the duo remembered well for their oft sentimentally soaring ballads. That being said, we can’t in fact reauthor original works.
We can’t alter the original creative teams for shows written in different centuries. But we can, however, certainly question the identities, motivations and behaviours of those involved with staging and creating shows today.
On one hand, there is demonstrably still popular demand amongst mainstream audiences for simple escapism and even ‘classic’ old musicals – the London revival of Cole Porter’s 1934 production of Anything Goes grossed over £1 million in its first week alone, even despite old videos depicting racial insensitivity from its leading lady surfacing in the weeks closely pre-dating its opening night.
But on the other hand, there are other voices also out there ill-content to simply sit back and watch as further injustices unfold. There are voices demanding theatre-based justice. Demanding more progressive and diverse shows, creative teams and casts. More inclusivity and safety for employees. More accountability to be faced for those with power who get control over decisions being made, especially when that power is being abused. And more attention being raised on matters of previous indiscretions and malpractices in the hopes of preventing their recurrence in the future.
The public statements made by Karen Olivo (i.e. “Building a better industry is more important than putting money in my pockets.”), as well as multiple conversations being had around the controversial Broadway production of Jagged Little Pill over workplace diversity and safety, are matters that could be singled out as leading, current examples addressing the inequities or lack of safety in the theatre industry, and vocally raising support or action for “bringing Broadway back better”.
Furthermore, there is justified call for the takedown or removal especially of corrupt or abusive white men in leadership positions who have conventionally yielded power in destructive ways.
February saw the resignation of Ethan McSweeny from the American Shakespeare Company, where he had presided as artistic director since 2018. This came following the review of a 15-page report submitted to the theatre’s board as put together by 52 members of the company that delivered documentation of “a pattern of abusive, manipulative, and dangerous behavior, actions, and speech on McSweeny’s part”.
And more recently, reports of mega-mogul producer Scott Rudin’s own abuse, violence and bullying started coming to light from this April in The Hollywood Reporter. These revelations were subsequently met with galvanising public outcry far across the theatre realm, and Rudin was perceptibly dethroned from his positions of power and the shows he was set to be producing.
These examples appear to display constituents of success and progress for the theatre community. But they are not exhaustive or complete.
There’s another name to reckon with who still threatens the safety of employees in the theatre in light of upcoming projects: Garth Drabinsky.
Some context on this Canadian producer who has flown relatively under the radar of late. Drabinsky rose to fame and prominence in the ‘90s, with hits like the landmark Toronto production of The Phantom of the Opera, before dominating Broadway with a run of successes like Kiss of the Spiderwoman, Parade, Ragtime, and Fosse. His reign was finite, however, and his fall from grace inevitable when he was later sent to prison for fraud and forgery.
At the beginning of summer when researching for another project, I coincidentally stumbled upon some of the details to do Drabinsky’s sordid past. I was shocked. Good riddance, I thought.
One can only imagine then how much more shocked I was in the very same night to read an announcement heralding for Drabinsky’s upcoming comeback. This man is being given free reign to helm and produce what is being publicised as the first new musical to reopen Broadway in 2022 – Paradise Square. This should not happen.
In addition to considerable criminal conduct, this man (like Scott Rudin) has been demonstrated to create hostile working environments that endanger people in his orbit.
“Scott Rudin but maple syrup flavoured,” opera and musical theatre performer Rebecca Caine would quip.
And Rebecca Caine would know.
Prompted by the threat of this upcoming ‘comeback’, Rebecca has been sharing documented evidence over the summer from the harrowing events she experienced as Christine for multiple years in Drabinsky’s Canadian production of The Phantom of the Opera.
During her time as the show’s principal female lead between 1989-1992, Rebecca faced the mercy of prolonged, excessive, “brutish conduct” and violence on stage from her male co-star. She did not receive compassion or support in response to these events as she tried to speak out about them. Instead, she was dismissed by Drabinsky and his production team, threatened with intimidation tactics, victim blamed, mocked or ultimately fired and denied payment of her salary. Drabinsky’s own actions created a callous disregard for her safety which subsequently led to acute and permanently damaging physical injury, as well as prolonged mental trauma.
In addition to these historical details of his negligent and abuse-enabling practices, Drabinsky now out of prison and as recently as the last few years has demonstrated a lack of remorse, continued disreputable accounting practices, and a maintenance of his same volatile temper as previously.
Yet for all of this, he is seemingly being given carte blanche to return. He is set to open his new musical in Chicago from November, or on Broadway next February with so far barely as much public resistance as a slightly raised eyebrow. Even reputable and influential publications like The New York Times have yet to cover matters in full enough historied detail other than to speculate whether this “comeback bid by a scandal-scarred producer” will be successful or not.
This man’s crimes are more serious than the capacity to produce a bad show. He’s more dangerous than that. Watch this space for a full presentation of all of Drabinsky’s legal and moral crimes throughout the last three decades that I have been putting together and hope to be able to put up soon as to illustrate why this man should not be any more considered a viable producer. Simply put for now, Garth Drabinsky should not be at the top of the tree to pick from in selecting new producers to award the privilege and responsibility of staging the first new shows as we emerge from this period of dormancy and ostensible reflection.
Carousel was probably not the best choice for a production to have been staged at this point in time. Even if all involved did try very hard to make it. That decision cannot be reversed, but we can turn the focus of the questions it raised to broader angles and future pieces of theatre.
Like has been mentioned, we can't rewrite the past. We can however try to make better decisions for the future while we still have the capacity to exert an influence in shaping it.
Before new works are put up going forward, we both can and should ask, “is this thing the best piece, made in the best technically relevant style, with the best people behind it, to be staging right now?”
It is these kinds of questions that we must continually remind ourselves to ask as theatre continues to return, if we are to stand any chance of returning with a theatrical environment that is not just enjoyable for audiences, but enjoyable, safe and equitable for all.
One horrible reality that a contemporary director must confront is that almost every design conceit for a classic ultimately puts something in the way of the play. I am not saying we shouldn’t be allowed artistic freedom to reinvent, and I will champion new and exciting interpretations of classic work to my last breath. But it is important to understand that by and large the further we get from the original conditions the harder we make our own job.
Talk at The American Shakespeare Center Hi Everyone. I will be giving a talk before the American Shakespeare Center's production of "The Willard Suitcases" this Friday at 5:00 PM (22 November).
The Willard Suitcases at The American Shakespeare Center I have written before about Julianne Wick Davis' song cycle based on my Willard Suitcases Project photographs…
