Une 3e vidéo sur l'histoire :
http://www.denverpost.com/littlemermaid/ci_6681229Mer-mania is on.
It began in earnest with Thursday's colorful and entertaining opening
of "The Little Mermaid," the latest entrant in Disney's quest to take
over Broadway, one children's spectacle at a time.
"Mermaid" was greeted by a thunderous and appreciative (and
undemanding) Denver audience. How likely that love is to carry over to
New York in December depends on how willing the creative team is to
accept that their very adorable little guppy has not quite yet found
its full sea legs.
But that's exactly why these multimillion-dollar high-risk ventures
incubate in smaller cities like Denver before going up against a school
of nasty New York piranhas (critics!) who, if given the chance today,
might pick this fish to the bone.
This Denver run (through Sept. 9 at the Ellie Caulkins Opera House) is
an opportunity for the team to confirm what works, identify what
doesn't (most notably, a chaotic ending and a few bizarre set pieces) —
and fix them, fast.
What's good about "Mermaid" is very, very good, starting with
diminutive Denver native Sierra Boggess as the animated Ariel virtually
come to life. Boggess simply inhabits the headstrong, 16-year-old
princess who defies her well-meaning but ill-equipped single father.
Bet on it: This tiny kid's gonna be a big Broadway star (hey, it's not
homerism when she obviously hit a home run).
More propitious is its faithfulness to the beloved 1989 film, which all
but guarantees the show a long life in Times Square. There are those
who will quibble with its liberties — Prince Eric's wedding to
disguised sea witch Ursula is replaced by a silly singing contest, for
example — but this expanded telling from an essentially slight source
solves far more storytelling problems than it introduces.
(Though I'm still not sure just how the Mer-king Triton and the octopus
Ursula can be siblings. And while writer Doug Wright smartly addresses
that nagging question, "Just what did
Denver native Sierra Boggess stars as Ariel in "The Little Mermaid." (Joan Marcus / Disney Theatricals)
happen to Ariel's mother?" he never answers it — and therein could lie
a much more satisfying explanation for Triton's feud with his "sis.")
The waterless staging conceit is original and magical in execution,
though not without its problems. Through an innovative intermingling of
lights, multimedia projections and lots of streaming clear plastic
strips, director Francesca Zambello and scenic designer George Tsypin
move us fluidly (sorry) from above water to below simply by having "sea
level" rise and descend. One moment we're on the ocean's floor,
mingling with fishies gliding around effortlessly on their "heelie"
shoes; the next Eric's ship lowers until it hovers just a few feet
above the stage, the waving plastic strips underneath creating the
sense his ship is floating on water. Wonderful.
Despite the intoxicating spectacle — and there is lots of it — Zambello
wisely isn't trying to fool anyone into thinking we are actually
underwater, or that her human actors don't really have legs. It's a
much more evocative and suggestive approach. She establishes place,
then lets your imagination do the rest. And by not simply trying to
replicate the animated creatures on stage, she smartly allows the
humanity of the actors to come through.
The inhabitants of this underwater world owe much to "The Lion King."
These aren't puppets, but their headdresses similarly imply species.
Actually, there's fairly liberal borrowing throughout the show from any
number of stage spectacles: Ariel's wonderful human transformation is
pure "Peter Pan"; the hit-and-miss costumes are in league with "Beauty
and the Beast"; and, most evidently, Sherie Rene Scott's fantastic
first entrance as the eight-armed Ursula will make you think "Audrey
II" from "Little Shop of Horrors" — with a little Madam Morrible thrown
in ("Wicked"). You'll also notice trace elements of "Cinderella," Crazy
for You" and more.
Ironically, it's only when the story moves to dry land that we start to
encounter real staging problems. At the messy climax, we don't know
whether we're in water or on dry land. The writer, Wright, wisely takes
the final conquest of Ursula away from Eric and gives it to Ariel,
where it belongs, but how the
Audio
LISTEN to an excerpt from John Moore's interview with Sherie René Scott, who talks about her 3-year-old's take on Ursula.
LISTEN Director Francesca Zambello talks about returning to her roots in Colorado.
LISTEN Denver native Sierra Boggess talks about embodying Ariel.
LISTEN Sean Palmer, who plays Prince Eric, on seeing the film for the first time.
LISTEN Book writer Doug Wright on the influence of Howard Ashman.
LISTEN Norm Lewis, who plays King Triton, talks about dancing on "heelies."
LISTEN Tituss Burgess on playing Sebastian the crab.
LISTEN Choreographer Stephen Mear on how heelies aren't roller skates.
LISTEN Alan Menken talks about Sierra Boggess.
girl fells the great and all-powerful sea witch is ridiculously easy —
and no amount of strobe lights and smoke can cover that up.
The casting is impeccable. Boggess and Scott could be destined for Tony
Award nominations (Tyler Maynard and Derrick Baskin would, too, if
there were a category for best dastardly, slithery eels). Lighting
designer Natasha Katz ought also be Radio City-bound. John Treacy Egan
nearly steals the show in a brilliant cameo as chef Louie.
The gigantic white elephant here are actually two gigantic, (probably
million-dollar) corkscrew columns that anchor Tsypin's stage, but to
what effect I have no earthly idea. All I can say is that corkscrews
are for bottle-opening, not for undersea set-anchoring.
As might be expected, the familiar songs are the strength of the score,
while much of the new material doesn't quite flow together yet. The
strongest new entrants are Ursula's "I Want the Good Times Back"; the
Mersisters singing a delightful "She's in Love" with a young Flounder
who's been polarizingly reimagined as a pouty, spiky-haired teen; and
Eddie Korbich's glorious seagull tap, "Positoovity." (But why are the
gulls costumed to look like dirty, tattered pillows?)
Composers Alan Menken and Glenn Slater have wisely given Eric (a
terrific Sean Palmer) his own songs to put the story's central romance
on more equal footing (sorry again), but the new material he's been
given isn't particularly memorable.
Audiences, of course, most loved Ariel's "Part of Your World" (a song
Menken stole from his own "Somewhere That's Green") and "Under the Sea"
(slightly rearranged to match loveable Titus Burgess' higher voice).
This is clearly the show's bread-and-butter number, and audiences ate
it up.
But ironically, this joyful, exhaustive dance doesn't serve the meaning
of the song all that well. It's just ... a big dance number. It makes
no attempt to further the point that life under the sea is better than
above (they have dancing up there, too). After seeing choreographer
Stephen Mear's revolutionary upside-down chimney-sweep dance in "Mary
Poppins," I was hoping for something similarly contextual here.
The number that best combines movement, mood and song is an evocative and visually stunning "Kiss the Girl."
People are already asking where "The Little Mermaid" falls in the
pantheon of Disney's theatrical spectacles. Despite its innovations,
it's really not trying to reinvent the storytelling form like "The Lion
King." It's conventional in that regard, much more in league with
"Beauty and the Beast."
Despite its flaws, Zambello's staging would likely be a hit even if it
opened tomorrow just based on audiences' sheer love for the story, and
for its positive exploration of a now complex and interesting
father-daughter relationship. The emotional power of the tale of a girl
learning to stand on her own two feet is not only preserved but
enhanced. Families will take positive messages of inclusion and
tolerance from it.
My guest was Disney's target audience: a 14-year-old female "Mermaid"
film fanatic named Jaime. She understands the creators' need to expand
and fill out the story for the stage, but warns that lengthening it
also creates disjointed tangents that might make hardcore fans
impatient and wanting them to get back to business.
And she'll never understand why it is that the girl has to always make
the ultimate sacrifice. After all, Ariel will never see her father and
beloved sisters again. All for the love of a man.
"If he's such a prince," Jaime asked, "why doesn't he just become a merman?"
Theater critic John Moore can be reached at 303-954-1056 or
jmoore@denverpost.com.