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Haves vs. have-nots
"Bonnie & Clyde' on Broadway
Steve Cohen
The new musical Bonnie & Clyde is quite different from Arthur Penn's 1967 film, which starred Warren Beatty and Faye Dunaway. That movie glamorized the bank-robbing lovers. In contrast, this staging intersperses bloodshed with many gritty, unglamorous moments as its puts the couple's crime spree in the context of the Great Depression.
The show sympathizes with Bonnie Parker, an A student who loved poetry, as embodied by the wistful Laura Osnes. Her boyfriend is portrayed with appropriate surliness by the strong-voiced Jeremy Jordan. We can't sympathize with him, but Ivan Menchell script renders his behavior at least understandable.
Having young actors portray the pair as children in rural Texas is a nice touch. At her father's funeral, young Bonnie prays to become a movie star like Clara Bow. Young Clyde, meanwhile, plays with a rifle and idolizes Billy the Kid and Al Capone.
A series of projections depict the desperation of the Great Depression, with its unemployment lines and relief kitchens. Enlarged photos from that era are shown side-by-side with groups of actors in similar poses. The plight of the poor gives the show its soul, more so than the family activities of the Barrows and the Parkers.
The audience cheered
This emphasis on the tension between the haves and the have-nots pays off in the second act, when Bonnie and Clyde rob a bank that's been foreclosing on people's mortgages. The teller asks for sympathy for the bank's problems (and pulls a gun), and Clyde shoots him dead. As blood gushed from the banker's chest, the audience cheered. Clearly, these days the common people— even people who can afford Broadway tickets— are rooting against bankers.
In its focus on lives of crime, Bonnie & Clyde somewhat resembles last year's musical, Catch Me If You Can. The latter benefited from a tantalizing cat-and-mouse game between the law and the criminal. On the other hand, Bonnie & Clyde boasts a much better musical score— an important distinction if you believe (as I do) that the most important element in a musical is the music.
Eschewing emotion
The versatile Frank Wildhorn has composed music that encapsulates the era with a mix of country, folk and swing evocative of the 1930s. He eschews what must have been a temptation to write over-the-top emotional anthems, as he has done previously in Jekyll and Hyde, The Scarlet Pimpernel and The Civil War. "Made in America" and "Dyin' Ain't So Bad" are effective songs, and "How 'bout a Dance?" has an especially seductive four-note motif. Don Black, the librettist best known for Sunset Boulevard, provided apt lyrics.
The supporting cast is excellent, and director-choreographer Jeff Calhoun has created striking visual moments within a simple set. It remains to be seen if Americans caught up in the Occupy mood can occupy enough seats to make this dramatization a hit.
The show sympathizes with Bonnie Parker, an A student who loved poetry, as embodied by the wistful Laura Osnes. Her boyfriend is portrayed with appropriate surliness by the strong-voiced Jeremy Jordan. We can't sympathize with him, but Ivan Menchell script renders his behavior at least understandable.
Having young actors portray the pair as children in rural Texas is a nice touch. At her father's funeral, young Bonnie prays to become a movie star like Clara Bow. Young Clyde, meanwhile, plays with a rifle and idolizes Billy the Kid and Al Capone.
A series of projections depict the desperation of the Great Depression, with its unemployment lines and relief kitchens. Enlarged photos from that era are shown side-by-side with groups of actors in similar poses. The plight of the poor gives the show its soul, more so than the family activities of the Barrows and the Parkers.
The audience cheered
This emphasis on the tension between the haves and the have-nots pays off in the second act, when Bonnie and Clyde rob a bank that's been foreclosing on people's mortgages. The teller asks for sympathy for the bank's problems (and pulls a gun), and Clyde shoots him dead. As blood gushed from the banker's chest, the audience cheered. Clearly, these days the common people— even people who can afford Broadway tickets— are rooting against bankers.
In its focus on lives of crime, Bonnie & Clyde somewhat resembles last year's musical, Catch Me If You Can. The latter benefited from a tantalizing cat-and-mouse game between the law and the criminal. On the other hand, Bonnie & Clyde boasts a much better musical score— an important distinction if you believe (as I do) that the most important element in a musical is the music.
Eschewing emotion
The versatile Frank Wildhorn has composed music that encapsulates the era with a mix of country, folk and swing evocative of the 1930s. He eschews what must have been a temptation to write over-the-top emotional anthems, as he has done previously in Jekyll and Hyde, The Scarlet Pimpernel and The Civil War. "Made in America" and "Dyin' Ain't So Bad" are effective songs, and "How 'bout a Dance?" has an especially seductive four-note motif. Don Black, the librettist best known for Sunset Boulevard, provided apt lyrics.
The supporting cast is excellent, and director-choreographer Jeff Calhoun has created striking visual moments within a simple set. It remains to be seen if Americans caught up in the Occupy mood can occupy enough seats to make this dramatization a hit.
What, When, Where
Bonnie & Clyde. Book by Ivan Menchell; lyrics by Don Black; music by Frank Wildhorn; directed and choreographed by Jeff Calhoun. Through December 30, 2011 at Gerald Schoenfeld Theater, 236 West 45th St., New York. (212) 239-6200 or telecharge.com.
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