'Bullets over Broadway: The Musical'

No doubt you saw Allen’s 1994 madcap caper film of the same name — a gangster parody about a young writer who tries to score on Broadway with a new play produced by an old-style mobster. To retell the tale as a Broadway musical, these stage veterans have conjured up the showiest showbiz elements of the '20s and '30s — dancing Follies girls and big-band swing music, lathered over with a large dose of revue-style vaudeville shtick. On top of that, they’ve added an unapologetic homage to Guys and Dolls, Frank Loesser’s immortal 1950 musical. When you hear the pre-show voice on the loudspeaker threatening: “Yuz betta shut off da cell phones,” you already know what kind of wild ride you’re in for.

A "whimsical"

Who needs the angst that newer musicals have been offering these days (like the fractured family of Next To Normal, the sad singers of Once, or the lost lovers of The Bridges of Madison County)? Bullets offers all the ammunition required for an evening of nostalgic pleasure. Instead of an original score, they’ve filled it with Allen’s favorites from the American songbook — including gems like “Tiger Rag,” “Gee, Baby, Ain’t I Good to You,” “(Up A) Lazy River,” “I’m Sitting On Top of the World,” and “Let’s Misbehave,” among numerous others. They should be calling this show a “whimsical” rather than a musical.

Bullets the film offered some of Allen’s most beloved comedic characters — posing a challenge for any actor reprising those roles in the musical version. There’s the nerdy playwright David Shayne, the Woody Allen persona played sportingly by a singing/dancing Zach Braff (John Cusack played him to neurotic perfection in the film). There’s the mobster Nick Valenti (Vincent Pastore of The Sopranos), who is producing David’s play as a vehicle for his favorite showgirl Olive (a talented Heléne York, who imitates Jennifer Tilly’s memorable delivery from the film when she squeaks: “I wanna play Lady Macbeth, only this time not in pasties”).

Marin Mazzie faces the biggest challenge as Helen Sinclair, the diva of David’s play. Dianne Wiest won an Oscar for her performance in the film, and to this day people still mimic her memorable line “Don’t speak!” Mazzie is wise to make her own choices, adding a toughness and drollness to the role. Brooks Ashmanskas offers a walloping dose of physical comedy in the role of the roly-poly actor Warner Purcell (played by the witty Jim Broadbent in the film).

The one surprise is Nick Cordero’s Cheech (the role that Chazz Palminteri originated with such flair). Cheech is the bodyguard whom producer Valenti hires to protect Olive during rehearsals and who ends up ghostwriting David’s play. Towering over the rest of the cast in his gangster get-up (black suit cum black shirt and black tie), Cheech dominates this production with his looming presence and fairly steals the show with his deadpan delivery.

Although Bullets the Musical follows the film’s plot faithfully, Allen has thrown in a number of new laugh lines, designed to please a Broadway audience. It gives Allen, at 78, a peak occasion to celebrate his talents as a writer and stand-up comic as well as his lifelong love for show business — enhanced by Stroman’s snazzy directing and choreography.

Real-life reflections

Still, there’s a sobering leitmotif running through the show that strikes a more reflective note. “The artist can be forgiven anything if he produces great art,” David says at the beginning. It sparks a continuing dialectic and offers a sobering reminder of Allen’s personal family issues that recently (and unfortunately) have been brought to light. “I’m an artist, too — but I’m a human being first!” David exclaims at the show’s end, when he ultimately resolves the conflict by choosing love over art. That line wasn’t there in the film. Is Allen trying to tell us something?

But of course that all gets washed away, as bullets fly, heels kick, jokes crack, and you get caught up in the crossfire of fun and musical mayhem. Tell me: Where else on Broadway can you find tap-dancing gangsters, sequined chorus girls, prancing hot dogs (to the tune of “I Wanna Hot Dog for My Roll,” get it?), and a gun-chasing scene — topped by a finale of “Yes! We Have No Bananas”?

Now, that’s showbiz.