Catch Me If You Can

"Catch Me If You Can" at the Neil Simon Theatre, March 21, 2011


Marc Shaiman and Scott Wittman have mined Hollywood to create another excellent stage musical adaptation from the 2002 film of the same name.  This time around, wisely, they've taken a bit more of a conceptual approach to tell the story of con man Frank Abagnale, Jr. (Aaron Tveit), who scams his way around the globe amassing and burning through lots and lots of money that's not his.  Working as a memory play, it starts as Frank gets caught by Carl Hanratty (Norbert Leo Butz), the federal agent who has been chasing him for years.  Frank, eager to finally tell his story, turns it into a television musical special along the line of Jackie Gleason's in the 50's or Dean Martin's series in the '60s, complete with a full cast of chorus girls, the Frank Abagnale, Jr. dancers.  With a tight book by Terrence McNally, Frank starts his tale as a teenager, learning from his father, Frank, Sr. (Tom Wopat), that image is everything.  Honesty, financial responsibility - - not so much.

Spoiler Alert



Fresh out of high school, Frank leaves home with barely the clothes on his back as his parents split and learns quickly how to profit from bad checks, kiting his way through Manhattan before every bank in the city is looking for him.  He heads west for "greener" pastures and bluffs his way into the cockpit of an airline, flying around the world, and bedding innumerable stewardesses along the way.  Life is good until the FBI starts after him.  He lands in New Orleans, impersonating a pediatrician in a hospital ER.  Love turns out to be his undoing, meeting nurse April Strong (Kerry Butler). Agent Hanratty is close on his heels and Frank finally comes clean with April and convinces her to meet him at the airport to make their escape.  April turns him in and we're back to the opening tableau.

Mr. Tveit makes an impressive turn in his first billing above the title, capturing Frank's charm.  Mr. Butz' Hanratty is a song and dance man in the style of Jimmy Cagney, ornery and crusty with a heart.  Mr. Wopat is capable, if unremarkable.  Rachel DeBenedet as Frank's mother, Paula, is straight out of central casting: tall, blonde and elegant.  Ms. Butler doesn't have so much to do, not appearing until Act II, but she does what she does best with "Fly, Fly Away."

Director Jack O'Brien's staging keeps the energy high enough to pull through some of the weaker numbers, for example, "My Favorite Time of Year," which closes Act I.  Jerry Mitchell's choreography is some of the best work I've seen from him in a long time, spot on to the period.  Mr. Shaiman's music is full of hummable melodies, but the lyrics tend to border on Hallmark.

Catch Me If You Can may not be the absolute front-runner for this year's Tony, but it will certainly be a well-deserved member of the pack.

Impressionism

"Impressionism" at the Gerald Schoenfeld Theatre, March 7, 2009

Lots of stars returning to their Broadway roots this Spring. This venture includes Jeremy Irons and Joan Allen in a new pilot play by Michael Jacobs.

I'm a big fan of both actors and was excited to get to see them onstage.

I wish I'd known more about the playwright beforehand. Mr. Jabobs' background includes NY theatre in the late 70s and early 80s, before seemingly settling into Burbank where he "created, produced or developed 14 series including...'My Two Dads' [and] 'Charles in Charge' " among others.

There are some great one-liners tossed about as Mr. Irons' Thomas Buckle, the realist photographer works in the Chelsea art Gallery of Ms. Allen's Katherine Keenan (though it's never clear why he's working there).

If I thought Jane Fonda was looking good at 71, Joan Allen looks nowhere near 52, which actually undercuts the final moments of the play since you've forgotten the age difference between the two of them is not really that significant. Mr. Irons, in his defense, is still wiry and slim, and ever-so-charming.

The play is a bit of a trifle, as we slog back and forth through time watching Ms. Allen's character devolve from the freest of spirited 6 year old, to a painfully inhibited 30-something to a closed book pushing 50. Parallels and analogies are all over the place from an aqua-tint print she associates with her own mother, to a little boy who dies from AIDS in Africa. The message seems to be: We are all wounded, but is it from reality or our impression of reality? (And on a side note, with as much furor over production costs, was it really necessary for the playbill insert with the scene listing to be full-color card stock?)

I did like some of Scott Pasks set choices: Mr. Irons' desk a stark white Parsons Table, compared to Ms. Allen's French antique, and a faux proscenium that looks like a blank canvas.

Director Jack O'Brien appears to have taken a page from Trevor Nunn's staging of last season's "Rock 'n' Roll" with overly long transitions using projections of impressionist art whose subjects hint toward the plot to come. He's also created some visual hindrances by using these same framed screens to dangle between the actors looking at the paintings and the audience. Seated in the right mezzanine, my view was not terribly blocked, but I can imagine someone paying over $100 might feel differently about this theatrical choice.