Hang Time

From 42nd Street through at least Gypsy,
the American musical has usually been about making it against the odds
and has had little time for losers. Some of the difference with The Full Monty can
be explained by its British origins in the much-loved film of the same
title (1997), set in the grimy Midlands town of Sheffield, with Tom
Wilkinson and Robert Carlyle. When the action is restaged in Buffalo,
scenic designer Czerton Lim conjures up some of the most unforgiving
ambiance ever seen in a Merry-Go-Round show.

Below the Rust Belt: From left, Rob Barnes, Collin Leydon, Anthony Festa, Brad Nacht and Geno Carr in Merry-Go-Round’s The Full Monty.

The two unemployed ringleaders, thin
Jerry Lukowski (Peter James Zielinski) and portly Dave Bukatinsky (Brad
Nacht), come off like blue-collar schemers Ralph Kramden and Ed Norton
but with the silhouettes transposed. Jerry is behind in child support
payments, and Dave wants to keep his marriage together. They know that
the low pay and indignity of playing rent-a-cop at Wal-Mart won’t cut
it. And so inspired by the flocks of chicks screaming for a
Chippendale-like male stripper (Ralph Meitzler), they decide that
taking it off is their only chance.

Musical adaptations of popular films are commonplace these days, including current Broadway hit Billy Elliot,
also set in one of Britain’s ugly backwaters. The advantage of the
strong book from the original is partially offset by the challenge of
frequent set changes, starting with the urinal of an unwashed men’s
room. The large chorus must not only sing and dance but do more than
the usual share of toting barges and lifting bales. Designer Lim scores
again with sets that may look like corrugated iron but move as lightly
as balsa wood.

Playwright McNally (Frankie and Johnny in the Clair de Lune, Master Class) inherits a script with subtle and ironic characters and surprising emotional depth. These are not Honeymooners sitcom
figures. Peter James Zielinski’s Jerry sees himself as a failed husband
and demands much of himself as a father. Brad Nacht’s sensitive Dave is
riven with anguished doubts. Others among the potential strippers
betray some of their British roots, such as the pompous efficiency
expert Harold (Geno Carr) from the factory who lies to his gorgeous
wife Vicki (Jennifer Swiderski) in his failed attempts to keep up a
glittery facade. There’s also the suicidal momma’s boy Malcolm (Collin
Leydon). Another is a reverse cliche, an arthritic black man, Noah
“Horse” Simmons (Rob Barnes), who fears he can’t live up to his potent
stereotype. Only Ethan (Anthony Festa), a nerd endowed with Dirk
Diggler proportions, is a purely comic character, one who delivers the
gags whenever called upon.

Moving on from the movie, it is here on
stage that characters express themselves with music. Composer David
Yazbek was largely unknown when The Full Monty came out nine years ago, and has since gone on to such hits as Dirty Rotten Scoundrels (2005) and the upcoming Damascus!. Melodic
and tuneful, he draws from the center of Broadway tradition, not unlike
Jerry Herman, Alan Menken or Marvin Hamlisch. A strong sense of what
works on stage drives the brassy exposition of the opening number
“Scrap,” filled with working-class anger in the age of downsizing.
Comparable anger reappears during Jerry, Dave and Malcolm’s trio on the
gallows humor of suicide, “Big Ass Rock.”

Yazbek gives more to the caressing voice
than to the clenched fist. In a welcome turn Dave and Harold deliver a
plain celebration of connubial bliss in “You Rule My World” in Act I,
and Jerry breaks out of character with “Breeze Off the River” in Act
II. The composer-lyricist has a thing for duets, three times with
singers in different sections of the set. The one most likely to have a
life beyond the show comes with “You Walk with Me,” when misfits
Malcolm and Ethan find each other in the love that dare not speak its
name.

Two of the biggest numbers designed to
be showstoppers come from characters tangential to the action. The
first is Ron Barnes’ Horse in the urban rock “Big Black Man,” which
also delivers some of the naughtiest lyrics in the show. The second
comes from the saucy rehearsal accompanist Jeannette (played by Diane
J. Findley), whose “Showbiz Number,” a Kander-Ebb parody, opens the
second act. Findley shows more leg than previous Jeannettes and also
reprises the seen-it-all wisdom of Elaine Stritch.

Auburn’s Merry-Go-Round Playhouse, which copped two out of three of this year’s summer season Syracuse New Times
Syracuse Area Live Theater (SALT) Awards, has compiled an enviable
record of the highest production standards. The company is supported
here by Steve Bebout’s tight but nuanced direction, Corinne Aquilina’s
enhancing musical direction, Lori Leshner’s expressive choreography,
Travis Lope’s authentic costuming and Adam Frank’s mood-defining
lighting. 

With these triumphs in mind, it is both
disappointing and surprising to report continuing problems with the
miking of different players. When character A seems to go silent when
speaking to character B, we strain to hear the muted words or figure
out what’s missing from the responses. Worse are the quips and retorts
that never get broadcast. The gag involving Estelle (Lauren Fijol) in
the urinal (“Look, no hands!”) has stopped the show in other
productions; in Auburn, alas, the joke never made it past the third row.

Lastly, as the Syracuse New Times has
reported before, in consultation with the most reliable authorities on
British slang, the phrase “the full monty” is a male genital reference,
cleaned up here by being a punning mistranslation of the French tu es bien monte. It runs parallel to the female genital reference buried in Oh, Calcutta! McNally’s
dialogue is festooned with such references, all the better to sharpen
the tease of the final scene. Judging from the uproarious response from
last week’s audiences, the Merry-Go-Round is fully in accord with
mature Auburn’s evolving community standards.

This production runs through June 17. See Times Table for information.