Gypsy
Every aspect of the show was, at least, exceptional, and at best, transcendent. The first transcendent moment came in the first scene, courtesy of 11-yearold Sami Gayle, who sang and danced her heart out as Baby June. It was astonishing to see a child actor exhibit equal parts electricity and luminosity as she did. She danced brilliantly - en pointe, no less - and did the splits right in front of our seats. We were enthralled.
Then it was time for Patti.
I had been astounded by Patti at Ravinia. It had helped that I was not very familiar with the show, or the Momma Rose role.This time I was prepared to be enraptured by Patti's performance once again, and I was not disappointed. Her Momma Rose was maddening and captivating. One minute she was so enchanting you wanted to take her in your arms; the next she was completely exasperating, sometimes even a little frightening. When she came down the aisle for her initial entrance, the applause to greet her was even more thunderous than it had been at Ravinia. I almost had tears in my eyes just witnessing how appreciated she was here. I felt so happy for her.
She ended the first act with "Everything's Coming Up Roses."Her character's intense, delusional determination had the audience still on their feet applauding as the lights came up for intermission. And in the second act, "Rose's Turn" was, predictably, a showstopper. Patti's delivery seemed different to me, though equally powerful, than it had been at Ravinia the summer before. There she had started the song off very sexy and confident, and then laid all the painful and angry emotions bare at the end.In the current production, she seemed more wild-eyed and desperate from the beginning.
The standing ovation lasted for about two minutes.I stood, but was so floored by the grotesqueness, and beauty, of what I had just seen that I didn't clap. I just stood with my mouth hanging open.
When Patti LuPone puts her all into a performance, for that moment she just makes an amateur of everyone else. She unleashes this honesty, these naked emotions, in all their complexity, right from the center of her gut, with no apology. It is as if, through her resolutely unbridled intensity, she declares to the audience, "You want a performance! You want to see my skill? Oh, you want to see my soul!? . . . Well, take that!"
And she slaps the audience across the face, with everything she has. It is exhilarating, and in some voyeuristic way, difficult to watch. The audience can't believe what they have just seen. But once they catch their breath, all they want is even more.
Equally enthralling, though, are the quieter moments of just watching her listen. When not speaking or singing, maybe not even physically reacting, but just listening to someone else, she is luminous. I feel as if I can get a little glimpse of her mind, quietly working. That is as precious a sight to me as the sight of her blowing the roof off a venue in a dramatic climax.
I had read many enthusiastic reports about Laura Benanti, who played the title character and daughter to Patti, on Broadway-related message boards and articles. Now that I saw her I understood why.She had a gorgeous, soaring soprano voice, a long, lithe body, catlike eyes, and an air of genuine sweetness. Underneath it, though, lurked a propensity for mischief, gloriously realized in the second act when she made her transformation from a plain, shy girl to a top-tier burlesque star. She lingered, eye-to-eye with Conrad, for a long moment during her climactic and revealing burlesque performance, "Let Me Entertain You." I could feel him glowing beside me.
Just moments after "Rose's Turn," the show ended. The frenzied applause continued all through the curtain call, with no sign of subsiding. The cast bowed again and again. Someone came from the wings and handed Patti a disposable camera, and she began taking pictures of the rabidly ecstatic audience. I wondered if I could be seen in them!
From his pictures, I recognized Arthur Laurents, the original writer/ director of Gypsy, and the director of this production, as he came onstage with Stephen Sondheim. I had read that there had been a very emotional and public falling-out between him and Patti long ago over another production, and it was that rift that had prevented her from playing Momma Rose until now. Now they stood together on the stage and hugged.
I had known that this would be a historic production. All the expense and hassle that I had gone through to make the trip had been entirely worth it. I was, in my own small way, part of a truly special event, a landmark occasion for New York, and for theatre.
