Theatre in Review: Death Takes a Holiday (Roundabout Theatre Company/Laura Pels Theatre) If the new musical at the Roundabout proves anything, it's that, even when the title is Death Takes a Holiday, you'd better take Death seriously -- or else. It's been a point worth noting ever since 1924, when the Italian playwright Alberto Casella first came up with the notion of the Grim Reaper taking the weekend off. (The evocative title was La Morte in Vacanza.) Rewritten for Broadway by Walter Ferris under the title Death Takes a Holiday, it racked up a respectable 180 performances; the 1934 film gave Frederic March one of his signature successes. (It was remade in 1998 as the Brad Pitt vehicle Meet Joe Black.) The premise is simple: Death, in the form of a handsome young leading man, arrives at an Italian villa to collect the soul of Grazia, a beautiful, and recently affianced, young woman, who has just been in an auto accident. Struck by her beauty, Death, for the first time in human history -- the year is 1923 -- hesitates over his task. Instead, convincing himself that he must learn why mortals cling to life so tenaciously, he descends on the villa in the identity of Nikolai, a recently deceased Russian prince. Over the course of his 48-hour pass, Grazia and "Nikolai" fall deeply in love. Maury Yeston, the show's composer and lyricist, has never shied away from tricky material; who else would find inspiration in both the films of Federico Fellini (Nine) and the greatest disaster in maritime history (Titanic)? Furthermore, his substantial contribution to the score of Grand Hotel reveals a true sympathy with the sounds and sensibility of the '20s. But despite some alluring music and the efforts of an exceptionally golden-voiced cast, Death Takes a Holiday only rarely comes to life, largely because nobody involved can find a tone that would fuse its disparate elements -- comedy, romance, and the macabre -- into an emotionally coherent work. The subject is profound, but the treatment is skittish and scattershot, unable to hold a mood long enough to really mean it, before running off in search of something else. You can feel the librettists, Thomas Meehan and the late Peter Stone, struggling to master the implications of the material -- and sometimes they succeed, usually when artfully suggesting the unsettling effects of mingling with mortality. When Death tells Duke Vittorio, Grazia's terrified father, "I think you have years left," the ambiguity inside that reassurance leaves a distinct chill. (To demonstrate his powers, Death touches Vittorio's boutonniere, and the petals fall away, one by one.) There's also a moment of grim amusement when an aging doctor, who has outlived most of his patients, is introduced to Nikolai, and pauses in befuddlement, wondering where they've met before. But, far too often, the authors are all too willing to swap out high comedy for low. Nikolai's Russian background leads to a series of Minsk-Pinsk jokes left over from some long-forgotten vaudeville routine. Given a newspaper, Nikolai immediately turns to the obituary pages, complaining that no one has died. When a flirty maid bends over like the girl in a burlesque routine, he gapes at her, open-mouthed, then looks into his pajamas to watch his erection grow. (We're also asked to believe that this allegedly all-seeing creature, when sitting down to breakfast, can't identify a plate of fried eggs.) Whenever there's a lull, the authors trot out Fidele, the comedy butler, who, aware of Nikolai's true identity, is practically knock-kneed with terror. From its opening chorus, Death Takes a Holiday feels stranded between the witty romantic drama it could be and the hokum-filled operetta it so often is. Part of the problem lies in the premise, which is plagued by internal contradictions. Most of the second act hinges on the question of whether or not Death will claim Grazia -- but, as the libretto makes clear, she is already marked for doom, a fact that erases any suspense. There's also an element of dishonesty in how the experience of death is turned into a moonlight-and-roses affair, divorced from physical suffering and emotional grief. Surely Casella wrote his play to help audiences make sense of the carnage of World War I -- but, to modern eyes, the entire business seems dangerously close to being a Harlequin Romance set to music. It's particularly striking how the show never pauses to wonder why Grazia is so willing, even eager, to throw over her life, deserting her loved ones without a second thought. (Her parents are already mourning a son lost in the war.) A number recounting her fascination with a pair of suicidal lovers doesn't do the trick -- and rather than exploring Grazia's character and her growing fascination with the death, the action keeps shifting focus, sorting out the love problems of a number of supporting characters, few of whom make any impression. At first hearing, Yeston's score doesn't yield any showstoppers; however, it certainly reflects his distinctive voice, in which elegant melodies feature rhythmic undertones filled with darker intimations. "Alone Here with You" is a lovely duet for Grazia and Nikolai, and there's a powerful aria, "Roberto's Eyes," in which Eric, an aviator, recalls his first brush with Death. But, in trying to lighten the atmosphere, the score marks time with sillier numbers like "Life's a Joy," in which the entire company, for no particular reason, waxes eloquent about the thrill of being alive, and "Shimmy Like They Do in Paree," an attempt at a hot-cha Charleston that feels particularly out of place. Under the circumstances, it's not surprising that the director, Doug Hughes, struggles to strike a balance between the merry and the mordant. The production also suffers from a crucial, if inadvertent, bit of miscasting. As Death, Kevin Earley -- who took over the role just before the opening when Julian Ovenden was forced to withdraw -- is blessed with presence and a stunning voice. But, given his baby-faced good looks and ingénue-ish manner, there's nothing of the grave about him; he's never believable as an emissary from the other side. And, probably thanks to a lack of rehearsal time, his line readings are rushed and superficial. He wins the audience over with his powerful singing, but something important is missing. As Grazia, Jill Paice matches Earley with her superb voice, but she, too, has trouble transcending her role's thinness. As Duke Vittorio, Michael Siberry is given some lame comedy early on, but he improves, revealing the character's growing terror as his daughter slips away. Rebecca Luker, as his wife, does her considerable best by a number in which she mourns the loss of her son. Matt Cavenaugh turns "Roberto's Eyes" into a riveting dramatic monologue, but he is otherwise underused; he also is subject to a silly sight gag in which his flying suit is ripped off to reveal him in full evening dress. Simon Jones brings his trademarked plummy tones and air of distraction to the role of the doctor, and Linda Balgord is her usual pro self as a dotty contessa who nevertheless knows Death when she sees him. Largely wasted are Don Stephenson as Fidele, the butler, and Max von Essen as Grazia's cardboard fiancé. Derek McLane's unit setting, a series of arches backed by floral bowers and a view of the mountains and ocean, neatly stands in for several locations, and Kenneth Posner's discreet and tasteful lighting adds its own note of elegance. Catherine Zuber's costumes catch the flat, geometric silhouette of the period's frocks; the men's suits are nicely tailored, as well. (Tom Watson's hair and wig designs are particularly fine.) Jon Weston's sound design is remarkably natural and un-reinforced. Death Takes a Holiday is full of nice people making pleasant music, but it never grabs you, because its creators don't really come to grips with what their story says. Rather than exploring it, they end up forcing it into a number of standard musical comedy conventions; the result is a show that not only takes place in 1923 - it feels like it was written then, too.--David Barbour 
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