Love Letters (Brooks Atkinson Theatre)

By Harry Forbes

A.R. Gurney’s durable epistolary two-hander is back on Broadway with a succession of intriguing stars, including Carol Burnett, Alan Alda, Diana Rigg, and Candice Bergen among them, all taking part in limited runs, following a tradition of very big names having a go at a play that involves no memorization (as they read from scripts) and nominal movement (as they remain seated at table all evening on minimalist table and chairs set, courtesy of John Lee Beatty).

Static though the basic setup is, the story of a mostly platonic love affair in the pre-internet age, told through the letters and notes between a couple of well-to-do WASPs – flighty, unstable Melissa and the ambitious, more grounded Andrew – soon grips you in the telling, particularly when the performances are as fine as they are on this occasion.

Under Gregory Mosher’s sensitive guidance, Mia Farrow (in a welcome, if brief, return to the stage), and Brian Dennehy are quite superb, capturing every nuance of the over-the-decades correspondence, with even the silences (as when one writes to the other, and waits anxiously for a reply which doesn’t always come) speak volumes.

Farrow’s Melissa is especially extraordinary, as she shifts, over the course of the evening, from girlish self-assurance to bitterness at her parents’ divorce and new stepfather, and later, her own failed marriage, to joyful anticipation of a tryst with Andy, now a married Senator, to desperate madness when she comes to realize the relationship cannot continue. There were moments in her performance that were so breathtaking the play was elevated to the sublime.

And though Dennehy’s character is the less overtly emotional, he was no less impressive, making nary a false move throughout the evening, and matching Farrow step for step.

Though the intimate play would obviously benefit from a smaller venue, the Brooks Atkinson is reasonably intimate for a Broadway house, and the miking helps hold attention (sound design by Scott Lehrer), though I don’t believe either of the players – with their extensive stage experience – need amplification.

It will be interesting to see how the coming casts – so different in personality (though Dennehy is pairing again with Burnett) – will play these parts, but this first coupling is clearly well worth catching.

(Brooks Atkinson Theatre, 256 West 47th Street; Ticketmaster.com or 877-250-2929)

Photo: Carol Rosegg

Operetta Delights in Wooster (Ohio Light Opera)

By Harry Forbes

Lovers of operetta and musicals had the rare opportunity for a week-long wallow in their favorite sport during the Ohio Light Opera’s first-ever symposium -- “Taking Light Opera Seriously” -- which, in the event, proved a serious (yes), but also most entertaining and absorbing, examination of the genre from a number of interesting perspectives.

Ayn Rand Institute founder Michael Berliner, for instance, spoke about how operetta saved the "sense of life" of “The Fountainhead” author; Operetta Research Center Director Dr. Kevin Clarke discoursed on cross-dressing in operetta and, later, on the four distinct stages of composer Emmerich Kalman’s career; Stefan Frey, author of a newly translated biography of Kalman, gave a talk on the business side of global operetta; prolific author and historian Kurt Ganzl delineated the various forms of the genre (e.g. opera comique, opera bouffe, and so on) and traced its evolution; and Operetta Foundation President Michael Miller put together a presentation on musical “borrowings,” accidental or intentional, with prime examples from the likes of Sigmund Romberg and Andrew Lloyd Webber. These talks were accompanied by PowerPoint visuals and, where applicable, audio and visual examples.

Though the title of the symposium was accurate enough – for these were solidly grounded scholarly talks by distinguished speakers – there was no lack of humor throughout the four days.

Miller (chair of OLO’s board) and his wife Nan were, in fact, the driving forces behind the savvily paced symposium, and laid out the four days with the precision of military strategists – including three outstanding recitals -- before, during, and after the actual OLO performances.

And what a splendidly diverse array of shows the company itself presented: “Call Me Madam” and “My Fair Lady” from the “modern” Broadway period; Jerome Kern’s delightful 1918 Princess Theater show, “Oh, Lady! Lady!”; the Gilbert & Sullivan staple “The Pirates of Penzance”; the Johann Strauss warhorse “Die Fledermaus”; and the two works that alone would have made the pilgrimage to Wooster worthwhile: Victor Herbert’s 1906 musical burlesque, “Dream City” (coupled with “The Magic Knight”); and Emmerich Kalman’s 1912 romantic operetta “The Little King” (“Die kleine Konig”).

Several of the symposium talks tied directly into the performances at hand which greatly enhanced the shows which immediately followed. Ganzl, for one, explained the out-of-the box casting which made the original Gilbert & Sullivan productions, including “Pirates,” so successful; Frey held forth on “The Little King” accompanied by witty visuals; writer and conductor Steven Ledbetter lectured on Herbert’s musical pedigree and the genesis of “Dream City”; and ace musical theater historian Richard Norton gave illuminating talks on the fascinating backgrounds of “Call Me Madam” and “My Fair Lady.”

The first and last sessions allowed the presenters to opine on the works they’d most like to see performed, and all-time most impressive musical performers. “La Fille de Madame Angot” (Lecocq), “The Girls of Gottenberg” (Monckton), “The Serenade” (Herbert), and “Love Life” (Weill) were among the former. Elaine Paige in “Evita,” Julia MacKenzie in “On the Twentieth Century,” Christopher Plummer in “Cyrano” were among the memorable latter.

There was an abundance of interesting facts and thought-provoking opinion. Ledbetter declared Herbert the operetta composer with the greatest range. Ganzl impishly debunked the perception of “Show Boat” as the great groundbreaker of Broadway musicals, pointing out that many works before it were just as innovative. Clarke convincingly argued that Offenbach’s “L’Ile de Tulipatan” might be seen as the first operetta about same-sex marriage. Frey colorfully described a heated melee over Merry Widow hats at a promotional giveaway during the run of the first New York production. Miller expounded on the protracted copyright infringement suit against Cole Porter brought by one Ira Arnstein. Berliner recounted how, as a young girl in Russia, Ayn Rand would walk miles, and wait on line for hours to secure one of a cheap balcony seat to the operetta. Norton demonstrated how much the pre-Broadway runs of “Call Me Madam” and “My Fair Lady” differed from their ultimate versions. And so it went.


The three recitals were top notch. “Songs from the Cutting Room Floor” gave an airing to the excised numbers from “Call Me Madam,” “My Fair Lady,” “The Little King,” and “Oh, Lady! Lady!” among others, with several bright members of the company: Aidan Smerud, Sarah Diller, Olivia Maughan, Christopher Oglesby, Gretchen Windt, Jamie Rapaport, C.J. David, and Grace Caudle. Former OLO Associate Music Director and entertainer Courtney Kenny offered a delicious recital of “The Best of British Musical Theatre,” accompanying himself on the piano, with some wonderful West End chestnuts, including pieces by Flanders & Swann, Vivien Ellis and Ivor Novello. And, most movingly, the late operetta historian – and longtime OLO translator and set designer – Richard Traubner, who died last year after a brave battle with ALS, was honored with a musical tribute of some of his best translations, and other favorite works. Andrea Traubner warmly introduced the recital which was narrated by Executive Director Laura Neil and longtime OLO Artistic Director Steven Daigle, and beautifully sung by Windt, Stephen Faulk, Nathan Brian, and Natalie Ballenger. Eric Andries accompanied the first and last recitals.

Musical values were high throughout the week, whether under the leadership of Lynn Thompson (“Pirates,” “Oh, Lady! Lady!” and “My Fair Lady”); Steven Byess (“Dream City,” “The Little King,” and “Call Me Madam”); or Jonathan Girard (“Die Fledermaus”).

A great part of the fun was watching the hugely talented OLO performers playing different roles, or simply joining the chorus of another production, an experience much like watching those marvelous British actors transform themselves completely from one role to the next in a repertory company like the National Theatre.

Tenor Clark Sturdevant, for instance, was Frederic in “Pirates,” Lohengrin in “The Magic Knight,” the unhappy titular monarch in “The Little King,” and a 1950s-era congressman in “Call Me Madam.” Mezzo Alexa Devlin played a raucous hillbilly in “Dream City,” a comic jewel thief in “Oh, Lady! Lady!” and the Merman role in “Call Me Madam.” And so it was with the others.

The versatile Daigle directed all the shows except for “My Fair Lady” and “Die Fledermaus” and had the style down pat for each one. The former was in the hands of Jacob Allen who, wearing his performing hat in “Fledermaus,” managed to make the often tedious character of Frosch the jailer bearable. “Fledermaus,” in turn, was helmed by Ted Christopher who played a superb Henry Higgins (as good as any I’ve seen), an entertaining Pirate King with apt melodramatic flourishes, and then took the romantic lead in “Call Me Madam” with suave assurance.

“Die Fledermaus” was nice enough (and the music was certainly beautifully played from first to last), but was perhaps the most expendable of the group, by dint of its over-familiarity. The same might be said of “Pirates,” though that production had a particularly strong cast, and was directed with a freshness that made it more than tolerable.

“My Fair Lady” was solidly traditional, satisfying both musically and dramatically. There was real dramatic tension between Eliza (Tanya Roberts at my performance), and Higgins. And Daniel Neer’s characterful Alfred Doolittle was but one of five impressive roles this season.

Irving Berlin’s “Call Me Madam” was given as brassy a Broadway-style production as one would wish, and though constructed as a star vehicle, worked well enough thanks to Devlin’s powerful pipes and likeable if youthful demeanor. She and tenor Stephen Faulk as her young attache made their “You’re Just in Love” duet an honest-to-goodness showstopper, leading the audience to demand an unplanned second encore. (Faulk was another of this season’s bright lights, with standout roles in “Dream City” and “The Little King.”)

But the gems of this season’s repertoire were, by general consensus, the Herbert and the Kalman resurrections. “Dream City” concerns the efforts of a shady real estate broker to persuade a local Long Island farmer to sell his property for a proposed Dream City on the site bringing about “improvements” to the townspeople. The farmer dreams of that fantastical future, during which all the townsfolk go to an opera, the farmer not at all willingly, and this is where “The Magic Knight,” a delicious parody of “Lohengrin” is played. The “Dream City” sequences filled with one snappy tune after another, and the parodistic touches of “The Magic Knight” vividly affirmed Herbert’s superb musical know-how.

There’s an excellent twin-pianos recording from Michigan’s worthy Comic Opera Guild, but the orchestrations here made a world of difference. As Ledbetter remarked in the final seminar, after knowing the work from merely the piano score, hearing the full orchestra was akin to Dorothy walking from black and white Kansas into a Technicolor Oz!



The surprise of “The Little King” (the English performance edition courtesy of Daigle) was how unlike the more familiar Hungarian flavored Kalman works this as “Countess Mariza” or “Die Czardasfurstin.” But the music of this early work was lushly beautiful, and the comic numbers – in the confident hands of Gretchen Windt and Anthony Maida (very funny in all his comic roles) – made a sprightly contrast. The story was loosely based on a contemporaneous true story of a young king of Portugal, Manual II, forced into exile by revolutionaries, and his love affair with singer/dancer Gaby Deslys.

Adding the ultimate authenticity to the occasion, there was the composer’s daughter, Yvonne Kalman, in vivacious front-row attendance. When she took the stage, cradling a bouquet, she enthused about how thrilled she was to see a work of her father’s she had never seen before, but not only that, “to see it alive…to see it so well done.”



Natalie Ballenger gracefully enacted the fictionalized singer in that work, and later that same day, became the farmer’s daughter in “Dream City” sharing a bravura vaudeville turn (including an impersonation of Lillian Russell) with co-star Nathan Brian as the real estate con man, the archetypal city slicker if ever there was one.

Brian made another dynamic appearance in “Oh, Lady! Lady!” as a hapless bridegroom-to-be entangled in farcical predicaments. Wendy Marck as his fiancée sounded lovely warbling the original version of “Bill.” (The song was cut from the original production and, much later, in revised form, inserted into “Show Boat.”)

Julie Wright Costa, who sang a magnificent “My Dearest Dear” at the Traubner concert, played her imperious mother, as well as vivid character roles in the other productions, too, inhabiting each expertly. She was also outstanding in the Kenny recital, singing still more Novello numbers quite superbly.

I could go on, but suffice to say, I found my visit an altogether enriching experience from first to last. Dream City indeed!

(The Ohio Light Opera, The College of Wooster, 1189 Beall Avenue, Wooster, OH; 330-263-2345 or ohiolightopera.org; through August 9)

Photos (top to bottom):

Natalie Ballenger, Clark Sturdevant, Yvonne Kalman after performance of "The Little King"

Kurt Ganzl

Richard Norton

Eric Andies, Stephen Faulk, Natalie Ballenger, Gretchen Windt, Nathan Brian, Julia Wright Costa at "Honoring Richard Traubner" concert

Cast of "Dream City/The Magic Knight" Photo: Matt Dilyard, Ohio Light Opera

Clark Sturdevant, Natalie Ballenger, "The Little King" Photo: Matt Dilyard, Ohio Light Opera

Natoma (Victor Herbert Renaissance Project LIVE!)

By Harry Forbes

Victor Herbert’s 1911 grand opera – not performed in its original form for over a century – was accorded a splendid resurrection this past weekend. The work – available till now only in orchestral medleys and some characterful but necessarily dim 78s -- proved enthralling.

Under the baton of Gerald Steichen, who conducted an orchestra of nearly 60 musicians, a chorus of 36, and a cast of first-rate soloists, the enterprise – under the auspices of producer/director Alyce Mott’s Victor Herbert Renaissance Project LIVE! – made a highly persuasive case for the work, its music, by turns, lyrical, majestic, sinuous, rapturous and altogether bewitching.

The opera was the result of a conscious effort by Herbert and his collaborator, librettist Joseph D. Redding – both savvy men of the theater -- to create a truly American opera, sung in English, and utilizing genuine American themes, both dramatically and musically. The original cast included the great Mary Garden in the title role of the tragic Indian maiden and John McCormack, at the start of his career, as the naval officer, Paul Merrill, roles taken on this occasion by the rich-voiced Lara Ryan and impressive Tyson Miller, the latter delivering a ringing account of the aria “No Country Can My Own Outvie,” once memorably recorded by McCormack.

As that title suggests, much of the libretto’s language reads as archaic on paper, but as cannily penned by Redding (who was himself an accomplished musician), and as set to music by Herbert, the libretto actually plays quite well. The plot may be melodramatic, but surely that is not so unusual in many operas. More problematic is the character development which is basically nil.

The scene is the island of Santa Cruz off the coast of California, then under Spanish rule, in the year 1820. The noble Don Francisco (sonorous bass Gregory Sheppard) awaits the return of his beloved daughter Barbara (Monica Yunus) from the convent. The womanizing Spaniard Alvarado (Matthew Singer) plans to wed the girl for her fortune. Meanwhile, Barbara’s devoted companion Natoma has fallen for the American officer Lieutenant Paul, but stoically accepts the fact that once he lays eyes on the beautiful Barbara, he’ll inevitably fall in love with her, as indeed he does. Indian half-breed Castro (Robert Balonek), the villain of the piece, plots with Alvarado to kidnap Barbara on the day of her coming of age celebration. Natoma stabs Alvarado just as he and Castro are about to abduct Barbara and spirit her off to the mountains. The crowd turns on Natoma, but she finds salvation when the kindly Padre of the Mission Church (Ron Loyd) persuades her to take shelter and accept God in the convent of his mission church.

Herbert and Redding were determined to be faithful to the historical period and emotional truth of the situation (the Indian cause, for instance, is most sympathetically presented), and the result demonstrates the integrity of their approach to a great degree. But in truth, the story needed to be far better developed, and the characters given more plausible motivation.

Still, Herbert’s music more than carries the day. And the notable orchestral sections – the Habanera and the tense Dagger Dance (which leads up to the stabbing) – were lusciously played, as indeed, throughout the afternoon – under Steichen’s assured command – Herbert’s sophisticated and complex orchestrations shone through with wonderful clarity, surprising and delighting us time and again. Herbert’s melodic gifts were seemingly limitless, and his use of both Indian and Spanish flavoring deftly employed.

For the audience, sitting in a hall where the musicians nearly outnumbered them, the experience was akin to being on a Hollywood soundstage, and wallowing in a most dazzling and luxuriant sound.

The singers, as noted, were a top-drawer lot. Ryan’s mellow mezzo-like tones helped conjure the image of a brooding Indian maiden bemoaning the lot of her dying race despite her blonde, blue-eyed looks. Her opening number, “From the clouds came my first father,” and her final scena were commandingly voiced. By contrast, Yunus’ high-lying soprano and wonderfully pure, bell-like tones, intoned Barbara’s song to the moon exquisitely, and later, she tossed off a superb “I List the Trill in Golden Throat,” the bravura piece once recorded by Alma Gluck, with considerable aplomb.

Baritone Balanek was a particular standout, singing with gloriously firm tone, incisive diction, and tremendous authority. Villain or not, he made Castro’s every moment a pleasure.

Matthew Singer delivered his “Serenade,” with its piquant pizzicato accompaniment, most seductively. Herbert left no room to applaud in his through-composed score, much though the assembled wanted to do so after that number and the other set pieces, including the once popular “Song of the Vaqueros” rousingly sung by Colin Anderson as Castro’s comrade Pico.

The chorus provided superb accompaniment, whether as nuns, soldiers, or off-stage revelers.

This rare and unique experience was the fruition of years of outstanding scholarship on the parts of Glen Clugston who had mounted an abridged, piano-only version of the work in the year 2000 at Westport’s White Barn Theater, and musician/composer Peter Hilliard who painstakingly restored and digitized the score from less-than-perfect sources.

Under Mott’s enterprising and determined leadership, the concert reading (and the two days of open rehearsals that preceded it, starting with the orchestra alone, then adding the principals, and then the chorus) had to rate as one of the major musical events of the season. For those who revere Herbert, and have always longed to hear this legendary piece in all its glory, several were heard to remark that the performance stood thrillingly high in a lifetime of musical experience.

It’s a pity that, on this occasion, merely 200 people had the chance to experience it. But with orchestral parts now restored (some lingering errors notwithstanding), and the spectacular proof of “Natoma’s” worth so strongly confirmed, a full staging and a complete recording will surely not be long in coming.

(DiMenna Center for Classical Music, 450 W. 37th St.; July 13 only)

Photo: Gerald Steichen leads his forces at Sunday's concert reading of Victor Herbert's "Natoma." Credit: Clifton Pierce

CD Review: David Campbell Sings John Bucchino (Social Family Records/Luckiest Records)

By Harry Forbes

The many fans of David Campbell -- the Aussie singer and actor who, in the late 1990s, lit up New York’s cabaret and theater scenes, including roles in Sondheim’s “Saturday Night” and Encores’ “Babes in Arms” -- will be excited to learn he’s just issued a new album (his first in three years), and it’s a beauty.

Back in the day, Campbell had always showed an affinity for the work of composer John Bucchino, and indeed two of the songs on the present album – “Grateful” and “Taking the Wheel” – can also be found in fully orchestrated versions on his 1997 Philips album named after the latter.

And here, sensitively and definitively accompanied by Bucchino on piano, Campbell’s voice sounds as pristine as before, his high notes still lustrous while taking an occasional dip into an attractive lower register. There’s also, of course, the pleasure of the heightened interpretive skills that come with maturity.

In any case, those two songs and nine others register strongly, each one a little gem. Bucchino’s lyrics have a way of saying much with wonderful economy: “Yes we have come from a long way, Some say wrong way,” to cite but one instance.

The opening track, the haunting and heartbreaking “Sweet Dreams,” with its captivating melody, sets the tone for the classy program that follows, including the poignant “Unexpressed,” about channeling unrequited feelings of love into human kindness; “Better Than I,” a rueful song of dawning self-realization from the animated “Joseph: King of Dreams” for which Campbell sang for Ben Affleck’s character; the warmly sentimental “It Feels Like Home”; and the bittersweet “If I Ever Say I’m Over You.”

In these, Bucchino’s lyrics are never mawkish, and Campbell’s empathetic performances similarly avoid overt sentimentality.

The song list is nicely varied with lighter numbers such as the playful and jazzy “Puddle of Love” which particularly showcases Bucchino’s virtuoso playing; the rhythmic “Learn How to Say Goodbye” with its wise and perceptive lyric (so characteristic of Bucchino’s output overall); the bluesy “What You Need”; and so on. Campbell handles the fast patter of “Taking the Wheel” as deftly as ever in a beautifully phrased reading.

This is one of those perfect unions of singer and material. Here’s hoping we won’t have to wait another three years for Campbell’s next release.

(Available on iTunes and Amazon worldwide.)

Much Ado About Nothing (The Public Theater)

By Harry Forbes

This play has always been a happy one for The Public, as the overview of past Beatrice and Benedicks in writer Matt Wolf’s background article reminds us. From Kathleen Widdoes and Sam Waterston to Blythe Danner and Kevin Kline to Jimmy Smits and Kristen Johnston, and now to the current pairing of Lily Rabe and Hamish Linklater, it has delivered some of the most delightful evenings at the Delacorte.

Of course, the work itself – one of the Bard’s most surefire audience pleasers – has a little something to do with it, but on this occasion, under the assured helm of Jack O’Brien (making his Public debut), the elements are undeniably beguiling.

With a most pleasing set by John Lee Beatty, eye-catching costumes by Jane Greenwood, and deft lighting by Jeff Croiter, the backdrop for Beatrice and Benedict’s entertaining sparring – 1900 Sicily this time around -- is most attractive. On top of that, Broadway’s David Yazbek has composed an especially lovely score.

So, too, this is a particularly skillful cast, with a generally higher quotient than usual here adept at the language.

Brian Stokes Mitchell, for one, makes an engaging, upbeat Don Pedro, so natural and accomplished in his line readings, in fact, that one wonders why he hasn’t done more Shakespeare, unless you count his fragments of Petruchio in “Kiss Me, Kate.” Fans of his musical work will be pleased to learn that, at one point, he joins the musician Balthazar (a sweet-voiced Steel Burkhardt) for a couple of choruses of Yazbek’s tuneful setting of “Sigh No More.”

Also solid are John Glover and David Manis as Governor Leontes and his elder brother Antonio, Ismenia Mendes as his innocent daughter Hero, Jack Cutmore Scott as callow Claudio, Zoe Winters and Kathryn Meisle as Hero’s ladies Margaret and Ursula, Pedro Pascal as Don Pedro’s villainous half-brother Don John, and Matthew Russell and Eric Sheffer Stevens as Conrade and Borachio, Don John’s henchmen in the plot to slander Hero on the eve of her wedding to Claudio.

John Pankow is a very funny Constable Dogberry, whose malapropisms fall in quick succession. The other members of the watch (Matt Bittner, Alex Breaux, and Manis again) comprise an amusing team of sidekicks. As briskly staged by O’Brien, these characters don’t outstay their welcome, as comic characters so often do in Shakespeare.

I must also single out Austin Durant who makes a particularly strong impression as the Friar who’s called upon to marry Hero and Claudio. The unaffected clarity of his readings is exemplary.

Rabe is a deft comedienne, though perhaps more shrewish in her delivery than the merry, enchanting creature she ought to be. Still, in this interpretation, at leasst, the part suits her vinegary tone and dry, sardonic delivery. And Linklater – who plays Benedick in a comically buffoonish manner -- matches her as the ever-so-serious military man grappling with romantic emotions he’s only now allowing himself to express.

It is, of course, highly entertaining to watch Linklater and Rabe’s astonished reactions in those generally foolproof scenes wherein their comrades contrive to have each overhear how smitten each is with the other. The business that O’Brien has devised for Linklater, hiding in the orchard on stage left, falling through the foliage, and gradually working his way towards Beatty’s two-story house, inching closer and closer so he can better hear the speakers, is especially fun, as is the setup for Beatrice as her friends trick her with a similar ruse, and Beatrice hides behind and then underneath a table.

When they finally succumb to a passionate kiss at the end of the play, once all the unpleasantness of Hero’s slander is past, the audience cheers.

It can’t truly be said, however, that this cast matches the great interpreters of the past on purely vocal terms. Recordings of John Gielgud and Peggy Ashcroft, and Rex Harrison and Rachel Roberts, to name but two, prove much more the real deal. And the 1984 RSC production with Derek Jacobi and Sinead Cusack is still the most memorable "Much Ado" of my theater-going life. But, on a beautiful summer night, O’Brien’s production is just fine.

His direction is masterful, and he balances the comedy and darker aspects of the play with ease. The redemptive, love-as-the-great-healer conclusion lands as movingly as it ever has.

(The Delacorte Theater in Central Park, free tix distributed at 12 p.m. on day of performance; through July 6)

Pat Kirkwood is Angry (Brits Off Broadway)

By Harry Forbes

Pat Kirkwood’s name is little known this side of the Atlantic, despite an MGM film opposite Van Johnson to her credit, and a stint in Las Vegas in the early 1950s.

When, on holiday in London in 1989, I happened to attend a Noel Coward tribute entitled “A Talent to Amuse,” I recall being most excited about legendary veteran star Evelyn Laye, but English friends seemed even more enthused about the presence of Pat Kirkwood whom, at that point, I knew little about. She had starred in one of Noel Coward’s lesser-known efforts, “Ace of Clubs” in 1950, and at the tribute, she sang from the show. She was indeed very good, and I remember getting her autograph after the performance.

“Ace of Clubs” and songs from it figure in “Pat Kirkwood is Angry,” a one-woman bio written by and starring a talented singer with classical roots named Jessica Walker who plays Kirkwood, and relates her life story from childhood days in the 1930s singing “On the Good Ship Lollipop” to full maturity and her death in 2007.

Along the way, there was a problematic mother, four marriages (all, but one, failures), various tragedies, a nervous breakdown, and a career that she felt never quite lived up to the potential. She did play the Rosalind Russell part in the original London production of “Wonderful Town” and later received kudos in “Pal Joey,” but she seems to have scored best, and been happiest. in variety and panto (where, as a young woman, she excelled at playing the principal boy roles, once opposite the very young Julie Andrews).

But her Hollywood film -- “No Leave No Love” – was a turkey, and she derides “Ace of Clubs” as second-rate Coward (which it was), though I don’t recall Kirkwood being particularly negative about it at the Coward tribute. Kirkwood blames rumors about an affair with HRH the Duke of Edinburgh, Prince Philip, for tarnishing her reputation and adversely affecting her career. But, in fact, she worked steadily in all manner of musicals, plays, movies, TV, etc.

All in all, Kirkwood’s story, as neatly written by Walker, emerges as a sad – but touching -- one. Lee Blakeley, a director of opera and musicals, moves things along at a good clip. The show was originally co-produced by Opera North and Royal Exchange Theatre, Manchester.

Several of the songs in the early part of the 80-minute show are rather pedestrian, but Walker’s sardonic and resolutely unsentimental telling of Kirkwood’s life holds your interest. Once she gets into the 1950s period, Walker enjoys some really splendid vocal moments, including an exquisite rendition of “Sail Away” and a scorching “Bewitched, Bothered, and Bewildered” to name but two.

Oddly, there’s nothing from “Chrysanthemum,” the 1950s musical which Kirkwood did with husband number three, Hubert Gregg. It was one of her pet projects, though it failed to run despite good notices.

Walker has a voice of quality, and her trained soprano gets a brief but impressive airing in a Gounod selection after which she states that Kirkwood “never sang about the stave again.” Still, in other numbers, Walker employs her attractive soprano top, yet proves she can also belt when the material calls for it. She doesn’t really sound like Kirkwood, and with her close-cropped hair and trim figure, Walker cuts a gamine figure, not much like the voluptuous photos of Kirkwood’s in her prime. But this isn’t an impersonation, and as show is framed as a reminiscence of the older Kirkwood, the physical disparity doesn’t matter.

Accompanist Joseph Atkins provides sensitive accompaniment, and vocalizes with her briefly on Bernstein’s “Ohio.”

I don’t know if Kirkwood was as frustrated in life as she comes across here – the account of her being roped into “This is Your Life” is particularly bitter – and yet I was amused to discover that Kirkwood’s “Who’s Who in the Theatre” bio ends with this summation of her hobbies – “Cooking, walking, swimming, and arguing.” So perhaps that’s really the way she was, after all.

(59E59 Theaters, 59 East 59th St.; 212-279-4200 or www.59e59.org; through 6/29)

(Jessica Walker as Pat Kirkwood, with Joseph Atkins at the piano, in PAT KIRKWOOD IS ANGRY, part of Brits Off Broadway at 59E59 Theaters. Photo by Carol Rosegg)

Rugantino (New York City Center)

By Harry Forbes

New Yorkers are enjoying a rare opportunity to see the fabled 1962 Italian musical, imported with much fanfare two years later by Broadway impresario Alexander Cohen and British producer Jack Hylton who billed it as “a Roman musical spectacle.” It played the Mark Hellinger Theater but, alas, folded after only a month.

Broadway leading man Alfred Drake had written the dialogue translation and Edward Eager the lyrics, all of which were projected in the then-novel surtitle technique. But it lived on when Warner Bros. issued a deluxe cast album which came with a lavish 32-page booklet.

Still, the show remained extremely popular in Italy, and there were major revivals over the years, and now this “50th anniversary production,” which has already played Rome, Milan and Florence. (Souvenirs are for sale in the lobby.)

The story, which takes place in the Rome of 1830, concerns the rascally title character, a skirt chaser and cocky con artist who bets he can bed the beautiful Rosetta (Serena Rossi), wife of the villainous Papal spy Gnecco (Simone Mori). Along the way, he has a flirtation with a married princess (Valentina Spalletta), and dupes Mastro Titta (Vincenzo Faillal), an unhappy innkeeper (who doubles as an executioner) by matching up the old man with his former mistress Eusebia (Paola Tiziana Cruciani). Rosetta eventually falls genuinely in love with Rugantino, but he comes to be wrongfully accused of the murder of her husband. At the end, he goes to his beheading, transformed from his rakish ways by the Rosetta’s love.

Though a musical comedy, the style is far removed from Broadway, though there are occasional echoes of Maury Yeston’s “Nine” score. Film composer Armando Trovajoli – who wrote such evocative scores for the Sophia Loren-Marcello Mastroanni films in the 1960s – uses very much a pop style here with some period flourishes, and there are some quite pleasing ballads among the more raucous items. The first act finale, “Roma, Non Fa La Stupida Stasera,” is, for me, the musical highlight.

The three-performance run at City Center is marked by a wondrous revolving set which seems to reveal an endless profusion of new scenes, and costumes are consistently eye-filling, courtesy of original designer Giulio Coltellacci. Gino Landi’s choreography was appropriately lively and gay, presumably in the vein of Dania Krupska’s original.

The talented cast of 50, which includes Armando Silverini from the original production, is headed by Enrico Brignano, a comedian of apparently some repute in Italy, who was also responsible for the staging. (The part was originated by the classically trained Nino Manfredi.) Rossi made a fetching love object, and is most appealing as she warmed to Rugantino’s increasingly heartfelt advances. Later, when she thinks he has betrayed her, she sings and danced an impassioned, Aldonza-like number with the male ensemble. Failla makes an endearing sadsack innkeeper.

On the downside, the music is prerecorded which, though slickly done, gives the musical numbers an artificial sound, exacerbated by Ettore Tosoni’s sound design which is pitched uncomfortably loud for both music and dialogue. Sonically, you’d be forgiven for thinking you’ve wandered into “Hedwig and the Angry Inch”! Surely, the original production had more shading and subtlety than this.

The surtitles (seemingly not the original Drake/Eager version) – projected above the proscenium and also to the left and right of the stage – work well enough, though for a non-Italian speaker like me, following the lengthy dialogue stretches proved a bit of a chore over the three-hour length, and I always felt I was a beat or two behind the joke. The mostly Italian audience (minus any language barrier), however, seemed totally caught up in the action, related warmly to the lowbrow, knockabout humor, and flavorful melodies.

(New York City Center, 131 West 55th Street; nycitycenter.org, or 212.581.121; through 6/14)

(Photo by Pino Le Pera: l.-r. - Failla, Cruciani, Brignano, Rossi)