How can a tale of gamblers and their ladies be culturally relevant? The overriding media reception for Portland Center Stage’s production of Guys and Dolls seems to focus on the delightful timing of producing a Depression-era showstopper in our current iffy financial climate. However, this is a flawed line of reasoning. First of all, though the musical is based on the 1930s mobster short stories of Damon Runyan, the author had no hand in writing the play. Furthermore, Guys and Dolls was written in 1950.
The unfortunate misuse of musical theater
How can a tale of gamblers and their ladies be culturally relevant? The overriding media reception for Portland Center Stage’s production of Guys and Dolls seems to focus on the delightful timing of producing a Depression-era showstopper in our current iffy financial climate. However, this is a flawed line of reasoning.
First of all, though the musical is based on the 1930s mobster short stories of Damon Runyan, the author had no hand in writing the play. Furthermore, Guys and Dolls was written in 1950.
Is there a decade that feels more distant from our own than the 1950s? Yeah, I thought not. Lastly, though musicals experienced a boom in the ’30s to combat the emotional strain of dealing with the Depression, if Guys and Dolls is meant to function as an example of how entertainment ought to do away with despondency, it isn’t succeeding.
Essentially, Guys and Dolls is an endorsement of traditional male-female relations circa the ’50s social climate in which it was created. It features two couples. There is the older pair, Nathan Detriot and his fiance of 14 years, Miss Adelaide. Juxtaposed against them are the youngsters, inveterate gambler Sky Masterson and straight-laced Sarah Brown. Though both women spend the better part of the musical annoyed by their male counterparts, they decide, in the end, to marry their respective love interests.
In “Marry the Man Today,” the girls decide that “… if he ever tries to stray from you, have a pot roast, have a headache, have a baby.” After all, a man can be changed after marriage, right?
Stacia Fernandez’s Adelaide is a treat for the audience. Her performance is nuanced. In the numbers at the Hot Box, where Adelaide is employed as a burlesque dancer/singer of sorts, Fernandez’s singing voice is marginal. However, when the musical numbers serve to narrate Adelaide’s internal monologue, Fernandez belts out notes with power and assurance.
Sadly, Carey Brown’s performance as Salvation Army Sergeant Sarah Brown lacks both Fenandez’s humor and performance power. Oddly, Brown is clearly the vocal superior of Fernandez. When the songs call for Brown to unleash the power of her voice, her vibrato assaults the audience without check. Coupled with her wooden performance, Brown creates a Sarah whose attraction to playboy Sky Masterson is unfathomable.
Scott Coopwood’s performance as Lt. Brannigan either suffers from poor direction, bad sound production or plain over-acting. As a character choice, Coopwood loudly chews gum with his mouth open. For every scene in which he appears, there is a constant audio undercurrent of chewing. And since he primarily works the gum when he is not speaking, the lines of other characters are punctuated by loud chomping.
Though only a supporting character, Todd A. Horman’s Nicely-Nicely Johnson is a scene-stealer. As Nathan Detroit’s chubby sidekick, he charms the audience. His performance culminates in the audience favorite, “Sit Down You’re Rockin’ the Boat,” in which he seems to be one of the few actors who is aware of the show’s tone. He plays it neither too straight, nor as a caricature. He’s definitely one to watch.
The colorful backdrop of G.W. Mercier’s abstract set design coupled with Jeff Cone’s costumes is pure magic. Both work together to create a bright, energetic visual. They imbue the whole evening with bright energy like a page torn out of the Sunday funnies.
Director Chris Coleman is clearly concerned with sensory appeal. He excels at adding visual cues to enrich the production. During Sky and Sarah’s trip to Havana, there are four couples Latin dancing. As Sarah guzzles rum, the couples begin to shed their costumes. The transitions are smooth and unexpected.
Suddenly, men who were formally in white linen suits are down to pants and suspenders, and their partners have shed dresses in favor of fringed bras and hot pants. Their mounting lack of inhibition mirrors Sarah’s drunkenness in a winking aside to the audience.
Guys and Dolls is, ultimately, a musical lover’s musical. If you have affection for musicals from the mid-century heyday of the genre (you know who you are), then you will love this production. Let’s not work at creating relevance where it doesn’t exist to justify a love of peppy dancing and non sequitur belting of tunes. If, on the other hand, you are on the fence about plays riddled with singing, don’t make this your initial foray into musical waters.
Guys and DollsPortland Center Stage Running through Oct. 26Student Tickets Sun. – Thurs., Evenings and Matinees $21.50
