2003-04-18
The Washington Post
Peter Marks
NEW YORK — Oh, for the time on Broadway when men were men and bombs were bombs. It was just 15 years ago, for instance, that a musical debacle called "Carrie," based on the Brian De Palma horror flick, made a tortured entrance and graceful exit on the Great White Way, opening on a Thursday in May to withering notices and shuttering a few short days later.
The emotional and economic impact on those involved — cast, crew, producers — must have been devastating. But no matter how awful the show was, death, at least, came with dignity. No fruitless marketing campaign with good advertising money pumped in after bad. No dispiriting weeks of half-full houses. The final dashing of hope was allowed to occur with a merciful swiftness.
Producers, however, seem to have forgotten the lesson of shows like "Carrie": that a clean break puts an end to the financial hemorrhage and clears the theater for the next, potentially better show. Nowadays there’s a reluctance among Broadway producers to pull an expensive show off life support, no matter how vicious the pans or how long the odds for survival. Take the latest Broadway basket case: "Urban Cowboy," a new $4.5 million musical based on the 1980 John Travolta-Debra Winger movie that opened March 27 to the kind of reviews that can have investors chasing their martinis with tumblers of Pepto-Bismol.
"Urban Cowboy," at the Broadhurst Theatre, is a plodding, ear- splitting attempt to cash in on an American infatuation with honky- tonk and the Texas two-step. If the movie was mostly an excuse for some smoldering lip-lock by its stars, plus a bit of dangerous gyrating on a mechanical bull, the musical is neither as sexy nor as menacing. The time passes as if you were killing an evening in a loud bar with gabby strangers you’re increasingly itchy to ditch.
Singing the music of, among others, Shania Twain and Clint Black, "Urban Cowboy’s" young stars, Matt Cavenaugh and Jenn Colella, turn in respectable if unremarkable performances. (The show features country hits, as well as new songs by Jason Robert Brown.) Around the two leads are arrayed a belt-clutching, hip-swaying chorus and a couple of good character actors (Sally Mayes, Leo Burmester), doing the sort of perfunctory work that, although earning them a decent wage, feels more than a bit synthetic; only Marcus Chait, as the dastardly snake played in the film by Scott Glenn, generates heat. Even the musical’s motorized bull seems stuck in low gear.
Heaven knows, no one says producers must listen to the critical chorus; it’s been wrong before. Famously, the rock-and-roll revue "Smokey Joe’s Cafe" opened in 1995 to tepid reviews and looked to be dead on arrival — until a radio personality by the name of Don Imus began to sing the show’s praises on the air. The buzz built; the producers, willing to tough it out, mounted an aggressive marketing offensive; and the show ran for five years.
"Urban Cowboy," however, seems an even longer shot than many of the lame musical flops made of late from movies, among them "Flashdance" and "Saturday Night Fever." For one thing, "Urban Cowboy" had already been declared dead by its producers. Like "Carrie," it opened on a Thursday; the next day, having noted the dismal reviews, its producers put up a closing notice. Then, in a stunning reversal, the director, Lonny Price, took to the stage that Saturday night to announce that instead of closing, the show would soldier on.
What could have caused such a turnabout? The mischievous spirit that has animated Broadway hearts forever: faith. Egged on by well- wishers and some apparent fans of the show, the producers, though out of money, decided they simply were not ready to let go. Too many people were telling them they’d had a good time at "Urban Cowboy."
"We really thought maybe we could build word of mouth and build a run, an honest run," says Chase Mishkin, one of the musical’s lead producers; the other is Leonard Soloway. "We thought that we had a show that was entertaining, that we thought we’d done it at a reasonable cost." She and Soloway raised $500,000 more "and I put in another half a million," says Mishkin.
Deep-pocket companies like Disney can afford to keep poorly received shows running — "Aida" is a good example — but how long Mishkin and Soloway can sustain "Urban Cowboy" is uncertain. Mishkin sounds as if the experience has been more draining than exhilarating. She’s even trying a 2-for-1 ticket sale. "We are struggling mightily," she says. "And we have a treacherous week, with Passover and Easter."
Even so, maybe "Urban Cowboy" stands a chance. ‘Tis the season for miracles.
Urban Cowboy, book by Aaron Latham and Phillip Osterman; musical arrangements by Jason Robert Brown. Directed by Lonny Price. Sets, James Noone; costumes, Ellis Tillman; lighting, Natasha Katz; sound, Peter Fitzgerald. With Rozz Morehead and Jodi Stevens. Approximately 2 hours 40 minutes. At the Broadhurst Theatre, New York. Call 212-239-6200 or visit www.telecharge.com
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