Theatre in Review: Clinton, the Musical (New World Stages)Clinton, the Musical is a lot like Clinton, the Administration: initially hope-inducing, then by turns farcical, crass, and embarrassing. In providing us with a satirical recap of Bill Clinton's two tumultuous terms in the White House, the authors, Paul Hodge and Michael Hodge, revive every seamy detail that kept late-night television comics in business for eight long years -- Paula Jones, the Whitewater non-scandal, the universal health care fizzle, and, of course, Monica Lewinsky and the whole impeachment circus. What makes this fish-in-a-barrel expedition into a passable entertainment is the presence of some gifted clowns who sometimes manage to take their low-down material up a few notches. The show's big-ticket gimmick is that Clinton is really two people -- the august, presidential William (Tom Galantich), and the smirking, sleazy skirt chaser Billy (Duke Lafoon). The job of trying to get these strange bedfellows to work in tandem falls to the put-upon Hillary, who laments in the opening number, "Awful/Awesome," "When your husband's split in two, you have to be the Krazy Glue.") The state of the nation depends on which Clinton is in charge at any given time. Kerry Butler's riotous Hillary Clinton is something of a split personality herself, a vessel of frustrated ambition posing as a perky, loyal helpmate and political advisor. "I would like to tell you the story of my first presidency," she says at the top of the show, in the first of many Freudian slips. Indeed, Hillary's big problem is that with her, the truth will win out, no matter how inconvenient. When William/Bill's boozy, pancaked mother makes an appearance, he sentimentally calls her "a remarkable woman," leaving Hillary to mutter, "Yeah, she just won't die." She also takes it on the chin from her husband; following one of many sex scandals, she announces that she will purge any innuendos from the text of his State of the Union speech. "It has to be free of anything sexual," she says. "I knew you'd be able to help," her husband replies. Butler nails everything about Mrs. Clinton -- the steely determination, the accent as flat as the Midwestern plains, and the absence of anything like a sense of humor. Her material is no better than anyone else's, but she manages some form of alchemy that turns lead into gold. Just watch how, in a moment of desperation, she covers her mouth and, changing her voice, pretends to stir up a spontaneous demand for her candidacy. It's always a treat to hear Butler sing; even given a jarringly serious number about her many marital grievances, she gives it her considerable all. There are also sly contributions from John Treacy Egan, whose Newt Gingrich is a happy, food-addled dolt, lunging at a doughnut whenever he sees it and genially warning his current wife, Callista, that getting sick around him is to risk divorce. Kevin Zak turns Kenneth Starr into a modern Torquemada, scanning the stage for fresh sinners to purge; he's a tense, bug-eyed neurotic sitting on a powder keg of repressed sexual tensions. (He makes his first appearance in a burst of satanic thunder.) As is the case with so many things in Clinton, the Musical, this funny idea is beaten to death; the number "A Starr is Born" features Starr leaping around the stage like a pole dancer, dressed only in fetish underwear. Then there's Judy Gold, earning laughs as an Andrea Mitchell-type news reporter and as Eleanor Roosevelt, who haunts the White House, counseling Hillary with a series of bewildering maxims. Her triumph, however, is as the ulterior, bleach-blonde Linda Tripp, clutching a tearful Monica Lewinsky to her bosom while plotting to get her hands on that notoriously stained blue dress. The trouble with Clinton, the Musical, is that all this material has been picked over so many times that the authors have no fresh point of view to offer. Instead, they settle for one broadly cartooned sketch after another, stooping lower and lower to mine laughter out of characters and situations that have little left to offer. One glaring sign of desperation is Monica Lewinsky's big number, a perky little thing titled "I'm F------g the F-----g President." Another number, "Sexual Relations," tries to spoof Clinton's hairsplitting way with words during his deposition; it consists of little more than a litany of sexual organs, delivered by the inflamed Gingrich and Starr. A couple of Paul Hodge's songs hit their marks, especially when an army of reporters, pouring over the details of the Whitewater scandal, sing, "It may be the case that nothing will arrive/But we will bring that nothing to you live!" But most of the time, he swings too wide to hit his satirical targets and he often settles for egregious false rhymes like "hope/joke" and "equal/illegal." As a president, Clinton may have been sloppy and inattentive at times, but that's no reason why his satirists should be allowed to indulge themselves. The rest of the cast does their best, with Veronica J. Kuehn's Monica worthy of a theatrical Purple Heart for performing so solidly under such unpromising circumstances. Dan Knechtges, who directed and choreographed, keeps the show in constant motion, amusingly conjuring a chorus of cardboard Republicans when necessary and even making room for a quick tap number. Beowulf Boritt's White House interior is wittily covered with portraits of past presidential adulterers with inset images of their beloveds. Paul Miller's lighting adds plenty of pizzazz in the form of changing colors, patterns, and chase sequences. David Woolard's wickedly clever costumes nail such fashion faux pas as Hillary's bright blue pantsuits and Linda Tripp's penchant for ghastly Christmas-themed sweaters. Tom Watson's wig and hair designs spoof Gingrich's thick gray mane and his wife's alarming blonde helmet. The hard, bright sound design by Peter Fitzgerald keeps the lyrics intelligible. But too much of the time, watching Clinton, the Musical is rather like searching through YouTube for old TV comedy sketches. It ends with the suggestion that it is time for us to get ready for Hillary. If she makes it to the White House, let's hope she gets a better musical; if nothing else, the lady has earned that. -- David Barbour 
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