Once upon a time I reviewed shows every week. Can you believe that? Every week. But that was a long time ago. Back then there were new shows to review every week, a steady stream of them, some amazing, some awful, most somewhere in between. And more than one or two at a time, but lots of shows, lots and lots of them.
Enough for a gaggle of eager freelancers to get one a week each to review. Even a reviewer like me—a once-young, hip iconoclast, known for sharp-tongued reviews, who slowly over the many years of writing became less, well, young and eventually became less often recognized for his sharp opinions than for his fan-boggling resemblance to George R. R. Martin.
And then, one day, an evil virus came around, and they had to shut all the theaters down. The good ones, and the bad ones, and the hit-and-miss ones. Just like they had to do in London in Shakespeare’s time. And we all had to go home to wait it out—the actors, the reviewers, the backstage talent . . . but why am I telling you this? You know this part of the story too well.
As it happened, the next-to-last show I reviewed before the March 2020 shutdown was at the Paramount Theatre in Aurora. (The Secret of My Success, a Broadway hopeful musical version of the 1987 movie.) I gave the show a lukewarm review, but that didn’t keep me from feeling a twinge of nostalgia last week when I saw again the marquee for that grand old movie palace (designed by Rapp and Rapp in 1931). The twinge turned into a flood when we stepped into the amazing restored auditorium. The Paramount, like the Chicago Theatre and lots of other leisure emporiums, was designed for both the movies and live shows (mostly vaudeville, already in the early 30s mortally wounded by more modern forms of entertainment—radio and the movies in particular). And as a live venue it is first-rate, with great sound and nice sight lines.
Not that the acoustics and sight lines and all that restored over-the-top decor did The Secret of My Success any good 18 months ago.
Kinky Boots, Through 10/17: Wed 1:30 and 7 PM, Thu 7 PM, Fri 8 PM, Sat 3 and 8 PM, Sun 1 and 5:30 PM, Paramount Theatre, 23 E. Galena, Aurora, 630-896-6666, paramountaurora.com, $36-$74.
This time the show was the 2013 Broadway musical Kinky Boots, a show that, like the renovated Paramount Theatre itself, is a pleasing mixture of the old and new. The form of the show is pure Broadway, as perfected 70 years or more ago. But the feel of the show, and its swagger, is very 21st century.
The musical, based on the 2005 movie of the same name, tells the story of a man who attempts to save his family-owned shoe factory by changing the kind of shoe they manufacture—from conservative dress shoes to flamboyant “kinky” women’s boots designed for men. The story itself (inspired by an actual factory in Northhamptonshire, England) also focuses on what happens when the old (well-crafted business shoes) meets the new (high-fashion boots fit for a drag queen).
Harvey Fierstein’s book is one of the more old-fashioned elements in the musical—but in a good way. Fierstein’s book fits in the well-made tradition of playwriting. His storytelling is tight, his character development well crafted.
His adaptation is very faithful to the letter and spirit of the original movie (written by Geoff Deane and Tim Firth). Much of the dialogue is lifted verbatim from the original. But Fierstein clearly knows you cannot just plop a movie onto the stage and consider your job done.
Instead Fierstein craftily transforms the material, changing things around a little—most notably he more tightly focuses on the pair at the center of the story: Charlie, the factory owner, and Lola, the drag queen turned shoe designer, and their parallel stories. (Both are trying to find their calling in life, both have major father issues.)
But the thing I admire most about Fierstein’s book is how well he creates settings for Cyndi Lauper’s gemlike songs. In shows that don’t work, I often sense a battle between the composer and book writer for control of the show. This plays out in awkward transitions into and out of songs, and in jarring changes of tone. A bad musical collaboration is like a bad marriage, full of behind-the-scenes fussing and fighting, resulting in stunted, unhappy offspring.
I understand that Fierstein and Lauper were friends long before original director Jerry Mitchell brought Lauper into the project, and their friendship shows in how gracefully the score and book move together.
The score alone is a thing of beauty. Lauper’s range as a composer is impressive. Her pop-rock score includes club songs, ballads, rock anthems, even a tango—most of them bona fide ear worms. I left the theatre humming her tunes; her tunes are still playing in my head as I write this. The two I am having the most trouble with? The slyly sensual siren-song, “Sex Is in the Heel,” and the rousing number at the end of act one, “Everybody Say Yeah.”
Trent Stork’s staging of this show does the material proud. Every facet shines. Stork and their team recreate the look and feel of the original Broadway production, without being slavish about it. And Stork’s cast is pitch-perfect.
Michael Wordly, in particular, makes a great Lola. His performance is rich and layered. He seems equally at home when Lola is in full “look at me, look at me, I am a star” mode and in the quieter moments, when he reveals the wounded little boy inside the stage goddess.
Wordly shines so much brighter than Devin DeSantis’s factory owner, Charlie, but that is how it is supposed to be. Charlie’s character arc takes him from insecure but wealthy nebbish boy to a man who knows what he wants and how to get it.
Sara Reinecke deserves praise for her performance as the likable but tough factory worker, Lauren. She also becomes something of a love interest in the story, though Fierstein does not seem as interested in her relationship with Charlie as he is in Lola and Charlie’s. That is not a complaint, just an observation. It is actually refreshing that this story doesn’t end up becoming just another June-moon-swoon tuner. Reinecke does get her own killer song, “The History of Wrong Guys,” however. (It is also stuck in my head.)
I feel like I am going on too long. But give me a break, it’s been 18 months since I got to spill out my opinions like this.
To be honest, so much is right about this show, it is hard not to just cut and paste the credits in the program here. Ryan Park’s costumes are gorgeous, and myriad boots are, fittingly, to die for. I rarely find myself taking much note of, much less raving about the wigs and makeup in a show, but Katie Cordts’s wig, hair, and makeup design stands out, even in a show as full of joyful spectacle as this one. I would be remiss if I failed to mention Isaiah Silvia-Chandley and Michael George’s choreography; spectacular, to be sure, but also more importantly, like every other element of this wonder show, integral to the story. The drag queens dance differently than the factory workers, and Lola dances differently when she is in all her splendor than when she is out of drag (when she seems like a bit of a squashed cabbage).
I am sure my enthusiasm may be a little amped up here. It is literally the first live show I have seen since March 4, 2020. Then again, I was not the only amped-up one in the audience. And judging by the playful energy in this production, the performers were amped up, too.
It is just nice to get out again. Even if you have to wear a mask, and need to show proof of vaccination to get into the theater.