(L-R): David Greenspan as the Widow Piper and Michael Levinton as Barnaby. Photo by Yi Zhao
The prime, if not sole, goal of a comedy is to be funny, and by this simple clear standard, the Little Lord Fauntleroys' re-production of Victor Herbert and Glen MacDonough's 1903 operetta "Babes in Toyland," fails to deliver.
Billed as a "recession spectacular" designed to "recall the happy days of childhood for all who are facing the stern realities of life," Levinton riffs off the Herbert/MacDonough work (itself a riff on/rip-off of "The Wizard of Oz," which opened in 1903 on Broadway, with MacDonough's assistance, and was extraordinarily successful) to create a two-hour dollop filled with Mother Goose characters, a couple of evil men (Uncle Barnaby, played by Levinton, and The Master Toymaker), marching toys, a scary forest full of spiders and demons, and a happy resolution of all outstanding conflicts.
But it's not very funny, for three reasons.
First, everyone tries too hard. Mugging (facial and bodily) substitutes for timing, stage "business" substitutes for narrative action. Such over-exertion might be funny to six-year olds, but to the rest of us, it's a lot of sweating with no comic pay-off. Part of this has to be laid at the feet of the directors, who rarely, if ever, set a "button" on scenes and in general moved people about with little regard for timing or pace. (Note the double prologue, with first a slideshow and then a set-up by Mother Goose -- one would have been quite enough, given that neither were very funny and often repeated each other.)
Second, the narrative pace is too slow. It may be a thin truism to say that if you want something to be funny, do it faster, and if you want tragedy, do it slower, but there are grains of truth in it, and "Babes," in part because of its sweaty efforts to be funny, doesn't settle into a satisfying rhythm of set-up and pay-off. If the action is meant to be mad-cap, then mad-cap it must be, with the attitude and pacing of "well, if you didn't like that joke, then just wait because we got a million of 'em." "Babes" never nears this kind of velocity.
Third, the writing. To re-create an old work without re-describing the material for the time and place in which you're performing it is to do theatre without a purpose, a variant of the Judy Garland/Mickey Rooney "Babes in Arms" shtick of "I have a barn -- let's put on a show!" The barn can't be the "reason" for the show, and if it is, the work will lack heart and focus, which is exactly what happens with "Babes in Toyland."
Not all is lost here. David Greenspan's turn as The Master Toymaker who hates children and wants to create zombie-toys that will kill them all on Christmas morning is wry and nasty at the same time (and, strangely enough, is part of the MacDonough book in 1903). All the actors perform with verve and dedication, and the set, costuming, lighting, sound, choreography, and musical direction all show a sure professional touch (including the inventive use of cardboard for both set and costume design).
And I did like Uncle Barnaby's cosmetic moustache. Barnaby will do anything to marry Contrary Mary (including prepare the death by drowning of his nephew, Alan, who is his rival for Mary's hand). In one scene Barnaby walks on with a moustache penciled in short straight lines to the edges of his mouth; in another, the moustache now has fanciful curlicues that reach across his cheeks; in yet another, one side curls upward, the other curls downward, like a snarl. No one ever mentions it or points it out -- it's just there if you notice it, and if you notice it, brings on a smile. The sight gag had just the right mix of humor and subtlety, and should have been the touchstone for the piece because its comedy was unforced, exerting just enough pressure to make its point without over-stating the case.
Michael Bettencourt
