Theatre in Review: The Mystery of Edwin Drood (Roundabout Theatre/Studio 54)

	Will Chase and Stephanie J. Block. Photo: Joan Marcus

The Mystery of Edwin Drood is an evening full of revelations -- murderers unmasked, mystery men identified, hidden lovers brought to light -- but the biggest revelation involves the show's cast; watching them cavort on stage at Studio 54, one is made to realize the remarkable depth of talent among our musical theatre performers today. Rupert Holmes' music-hall-entertainment-cum-parlor game, based on an unfinished Dickens novel, was always the frothiest of vehicles, its fun derived from a program of high-stepping musical hall rousers and the unique Act II device in which the resolution of the plot is decided by audience vote.

But, whether you consider Edwin Drood to be the flimsiest of constructions or an admirably flexible evening of spontaneous fun, it is, more than most musicals, totally dependent on the charm and skill of its cast. In Holmes' conceit, we are at London's Music Hall Royale on a winter night in 1895, watching the premiere of a new musical based on Dickens' novel. The actors play Victorian-era vaudevillians who are in turn assigned roles in Drood; when the story grinds to a halt, at the point where Dickens dropped dead, they must engage the audience in the process of devising an ending. It's quite a workout, requiring first-rate song-and-dance skills, an ability to play 19th-century melodrama for keeps while simultaneously kidding it, and the retentive memory of an elephant, since, under the rules of the game, there are dozens of possible endings.

Only the nimblest of performers need apply, and, fortunately, Scott Ellis' production has them in spades. As the company's unloved diva, who specializes in pants roles (such as Edwin Drood), Stephanie J. Block amuses with displays of great-actress hauteur; she also brings the house down with her fearsome belt, especially in the clarion-like "The Writing on the Wall." As the dissipated, possibly psychotic, music teacher John Jasper, Will Chase can match Block note for note; he is also the wittiest of madmen, struggling to keep his facial tics and errant right arm under control while tripping through the fiendishly complex lyrics of "A Man Could Go Quite Mad." Gregg Edelman, an underrated farceur, knows exactly how many doddering mannerisms to apply to the Rev. Crisparkle, a man of God with a potentially steamy past. Betsy Wolfe, as Rosa Bud, a standard Dickens vessel of innocence, does all right and a little bit more by "Moonglow," the show's ravishingly minor-key ballad. Andy Karl has a full set of sinister stares as a recent arrival from Ceylon, and Jessie Mueller backs him up solidly as his equally mysterious twin sister. Peter Benson makes a most diverting thing out of "Never the Luck," the lament of an actor forever condemned to play bit parts.

Leading the way is a pair of veterans who really know how to get the job done. Chita Rivera, ever ready to lift her skirt to reveal a well-turned calf, seizes the limelight in each appearance as Princess Puffer, the improbably glamorous proprietress of an opium den. Whether dispensing worldly wisdom in a little item titled "The Wages of Sin," seeking out clues (armed with a magnifying glass) in "Settling Up the Score," or leading the entire company in a roof-raiser titled "Don't Quit While You're Ahead," she is the living embodiment of musical comedy fun.

None of this would work, however, without the right actor in the role of the Chairman, our interlocutor for the evening, who, armed with a cannonade of hilariously terrible jokes, guides us through the convoluted narrative, introducing the "actors" from the musical hall and engaging the audience in the probabilities of each outcome. The chairman is our direct line into the show -- it's the one role that requires a character man rather than a song-and-dance specialist, and he must be played by a comic actor with a natural authority and effortless wit. In the original production, the late, great George Rose provided all these qualities and more, and it is delightful to report that Jim Norton is in every way his equal. ("I trust the moderation of your applause means you are conserving your energy for the final curtain," he comments early on, eyeing the audience with the air of a mightily displeased headmaster.) Whether tossing a handful of snow from a side box to signal the onset of a snowy night, imperiously informing the cast that their favorite production number has been consigned to later in the show, or joining the action as local politician who takes inordinate pride in the museum he has built for his wife, Norton is a compere without peer, no more so than in the final scenes when he adjudicates the audience's voting.

There are a few improvements for which I could vote. Ellis' direction is a little bit rushed in the early scenes, and in the first few numbers, Paul Gemignani's musical direction is (in the words of one of the show's numbers) off to the races, making the intricate lyrics a little hard to make out. Tony Meola's sound design could probably provide a bit of extra help here as well. But as the evening progresses and everyone relaxes into the game, all of these problems disappear.

The production benefits hugely from Anna Louizos' set design, which frames the set in a false proscenium, complete with upper and lower boxes, and it sets each scene against a variety of stunningly painted drops, in the style of the era, depicting cathedral town squares, dens of iniquity, train stations, and glass conservatories. William Ivey Long's costumes capture the ruffles, necklines, and bell-shaped bustles of the period, piling pattern upon pattern to colorful effect. Brian Nason's lighting creates the look of 19th-century footlights, sends sinister shafts of white light shooting across Princess Puffer's lair, and casts a chilling wash of moonlight across a cemetery where conspirators meet. Aside from a rather wan opium dream ballet, the choreography, by the ubiquitous Warren Carlyle (this is his third show this year), adds to each number with clever, seemingly improvised little shuffles, exotic Subcontinental dance moves, and kick lines that span the stage.

It all makes for a grand evening of entertainment, far superior to all the Christmas-themed baubles currently being hung on Broadway's Christmas tree. It also left me a little bit worried. Revivals like this can be great fun, but seeing Block, Chase, and company go through their paces, it seemed to me that the need for new musicals has never been greater. Surely the writers who can keep these talented folk employed on a regular basis are out there. Why aren't they getting produced? It's a darker mystery than anything you'll find in Edwin Drood.--David Barbour