Monday, October 14, 2013

Big Fish the Musical


It has been a while since a theatrical production has stirred up so much in me. Four years since I stepped foot in the Neil Simon Theatre to see Norbert Leo Butz in "Catch Me If You Can" the musical on Broadway, I was back in the same venue to see Norbert again, but this time in "Big Fish the Musical," which just opened last week.  I want to start by saying that I was brought to tears by this show. It was beautiful, and a spectacle in itself. Norbert was incredible, though I expected nothing less from the two time Tony Award winner.

For those who are unfamiliar with the source material, "Big Fish" tells the story of a father, Edward Bloom, who tells astounding larger-than-life tales about his life. From meeting giants and living in small hospitable towns, he has lived his life to the fullest. However, as Edward's cancer worsens, and his son Will is about to have a son of his own, Will is determined to learn the truth about the life his father lived. "Big Fish" was originally a novel published in 1998 and written by Daniel Wallace. It was later adapted into a feature film in 2003 by Tim Burton with a screenplay by John August.

When I saw the movie for the first time last year, I thought that while the film was visually appealing and its tale fantastical, I could not connect with the characters. It was simply one of those movies that I saw, enjoyed, but then forget about over time. However, this musical adaptation had an entirely different effect on me. I was moved, engaged, and was filled with my own vision for what could have been.

The cast, led by Norbert Leo Butz as storyteller and father Edward Bloom, was top notch. Kate Baldwin plays Sandra, Edward's wife, and rising Broadway star Bobby Steggert portrays Will Bloom, his son. They were all fully comfortable in their respective roles, and the chemistry between Norbert and Bobby was impeccable, but more on that later.

The set fully illuminates the larger-than-life stories that Edward tells, from dark forests to a field of daffodils. And the lighting design accentuates what's on the stage and immerses the audience in the story being told. But with such beautiful production design is where this show falls short in its execution.

Directed and choreographed by Susan Stroman, whose previous credits include "The Producers" and "The Scottsboro Boys," there were several moments that simply wowed me, but other parts left me underwhelmed. My problems with the production can perhaps be best summed up with the words of Ben Brantley, who reviewed the show for the Times last week. Brantley states that, "for outlandish stories to seduce, you should never be able to separate the teller from the tale," and I couldn't agree with this more. He continues to write that:
"The problem is that you feel these colorful visions are being thrust not just upon the audience but also upon Edward. It’s as if the contents of an immense toy chest had been emptied on top of him, when you need to believe that it’s his imagination that summons these gaudy phantoms into existence. Yes, there’s plenty of theatrical cleverness in how these ingredients are arranged. But it’s as if some cosmic Florenz Ziegfeld is the one doing the arranging, not an Everyman Walter Mitty from Dixie."
And that is exactly how I felt during several of the numbers in the show. The production opens strong with a wondrous number ("Be The Hero"), but then stumbles through the rest of the two acts before finishing off strong once again. But most of the issues had to do with Stroman's directorial decision to make everything happening around Edward bigger than big, and as a result, pulled me away from the storyteller and his telling of the tale. In one of my favorite numbers from the score, "Time Stops," everyone on stage moves in slow motion as Edward Bloom sings of finally meeting his true love Sandra. But as the title of the song suggests, I couldn't help but imagine how much more powerful that moment and song would have been if everything on the stage actually stopped so that the song and its singer could have been the sole focus. On the other hand, in one of the better executed numbers titled "Out There on the Road," Norbert Leo Butz dances and tells the story about his encounter with a giant named Carl. With Norbert's humorous dance moves and facial expressions, I fully felt his character's excitement as he recounts this particular event in his life. I wish more of the show would have been like this, but instead we get several big numbers where the director lets the flashy special effects, and not its phenomenal lead actor do the telling of the story.

The score, written by Andrew Lippa (Tony nominee for "The Addams Family"), had its bright spots, notably "Time Stops," "Be the Hero," and "Fight the Dragons." But with a sensational tale at hand, I wish there were more numbers on par with the wondrous story being told.

But despite its flaws, "Big Fish the Musical" still resonated with me (more so than the film did). In the execution of Edward's death at the end, Will finally realizes that his father was a honorable and good man who loved him deeply. Edward told these outlandish stories because he wanted to inspire his son to live a big and fulfilling life and to experience as much of the world as he can, something that he never got to do. And by the time Will realizes this, it is too late. Edward has had a stroke, and is in a coma at the hospital. Because he was never able to finish telling Will his story, Will finishes it for him, creating a big fantastical happy ending to Edward's journey. This incredibly emotional, well-executed and acted scene made for a stirring ending.

"Big Fish" was not perfect, but when it was it soared, and those charming moments and extravagant performances, remind me of my love for the theatre, and will stick with me for a very long time.


Bibliography

Brantley, Ben. "A Dad’s Tall Tales and a Down-to-Earth Son." The New York Times. October 6, 2013. Web. <http://theater.nytimes.com/2013/10/07/theater/reviews/susan-stroman-directs-big-fish-on-broadway.html?_r=0>.