Chaplin, the new musical that
chronicles the life of The Little Tramp, Charlie Chaplin, lacks buoyancy and
zip. Add to that a lackluster
score and a pointless Act II and you end up with the first major disappointment
of the new Broadway season, which is a shame because of the mostly winning
performance by Rob McClure as Chaplin.
The musical starts off with an affecting
look at Chaplin’s impoverished younger years in London, his early music hall
days, family (brother Sydney and mentally ill mother) and, finally, his
formative years in Hollywood. The
book by Christopher Curtis and Thomas Meehan provide an engaging and
entertaining look at Chaplin’s growth in the movie industry. Director/Choreographer Warren Carlyle
moves the production along with a steady hand. The problem holding back Act I from blossoming is the
colorless and banal score by Christopher Curtis. The action on stage is engaging enough, but there is no musical
spark to energize the show, to elevate it from a conventional biography to a
spirited Broadway production.
Heading into the second act the
show simply implodes, for a variety of reasons. First, the book by Curtis and Meehan turns from a mostly
absorbing and satisfying examination of Chaplin’s movie-making and personal
life to an unappealing and listless mess focusing solely on Chaplin’s
left-leaning political sentiments as well as the witch hunt conducted by gossip
queen Hedda Hopper to discredit the man.
That’s Act II. Chaplin
gives speeches supporting the Russian people. Hopper, upset because The Little Tramp will not appear on her radio program, prowls the stage digging up dirt on him and
trying to prove he is un-American.
Not exactly absorbing or enthralling musical theater. Second, the score by Christopher Curtis
continues to be humdrum and forgettable.
Third, the choices by Director/Choreographer Warren Caryle, agreeable
and adroit in Act I, become tired and aimless later on. The Act II opening, where Chaplin dukes
it out in a boxing ring with his ex-wives, is rather strange. A roller skating number, with only
three skaters, is tame and boring.
All the freshness and wonder surrounding Chaplin’s early days has simply
vanished.
Rob McClure, as Charlie Chaplin, is
lively and energetic. He also
displays the pathos and intensity of a ground-breaking artist. I hesitate to wonder what the show
would be like without his talents.
The rest of the cast is fine.
Yet only Zachary Unger as the young Chaplin truly resonates with the
audience.
Chaplin, one to miss.
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