Fanny Brice really was the greatest star, at least at the Ziegfeld Follies. The famously expressive singer-comedian headlined the premier Broadway theatrical revue for years in the 1910s, ’20s, and ’30s, then segued to radio stardom, motion pictures, and a hit-making recording career highlighted by signature songs “Second-Hand Rose” and “My Man.”
But Fanny appeared in only a few films of note, and folks don’t much listen to her music anymore. Her legacy as a performer has largely been supplanted by the popularity of Funny Girl, the musical that’s loosely based on her life and that the whole world associates with a different funny girl from New York City.
As someone who appreciates Fanny, especially her songs, I look to a new Funny Girl — like the touring production of Michael Mayer’s well-received, if rocky, recent Broadway run — to give me more than Barbra. I want to see a portrayal that also evokes Fanny’s talents and singular appeal, in service to Jule Styne and Bob Merrill’s so singable score, and Isobel Lennart’s solid rags-to-riches love story.
Leading the tour, currently in its opening engagement at the Kennedy Center Opera House, Katerina McCrimmon as Fanny Brice gave me what I wanted. Funny, quick, and blessed with powerhouse pipes, McCrimmon is a delight, capturing the verve and oddball confidence that were Brice’s bread and butter, while still creating her own unique Funny Girl.
In her “I’m the Greatest Star,” McCrimmon makes her voice heard, with impressive energy and sustained notes capping Fanny’s debut at Keeney’s vaudeville house. The performer also, on occasion, hits notes that sound like Streisand in a way that’s not displeasing.
Interestingly, to the ears of this former Glee watcher, McCrimmon’s voice never once reminded me of Lea Michele, who established herself as Fanny, replacing Beanie Feldstein in the show’s 2022-23 Broadway run that spawned this tour.
Based on the wigs and make-up, the casting department must have been glad to find someone who could look this much like Lea Michele, but McCrimmon’s Fanny feels like hers. She sings her own “Don’t Rain on My Parade.” And she flows beautifully singing “People,” though that’s the song where her performance, with seeming inevitability, most echoes Streisand’s classic version.
McCrimmon also creates a compelling romantic pair with dashing Stephen Mark Lukas as high roller Nicky Arnstein, Fanny’s lover-turned-husband. They have great timing with their dinner-night repartée — the revised script is by Harvey Fierstein — leading into “You Are Woman, I Am Man.”
Even in Nicky’s low moments, Lukas warmly embodies the charm of this debonair gambler in his top hat and tails, with manicured nails. Fanny can’t resist, and we can see why.
It’s not because he’s the greatest dancer, as Lukas demonstrates in the show’s somewhat discordant take on Nicky’s jazzy “Temporary Arrangement.” Although, the dancing in general is top-notch, with Ellenore Scott’s fun choreography crisply executed by an ensemble that makes all the dancing a pleasure.
Some numbers are saved by the dancing, like the strongly-tapped “Rat-Tat-Tat-Tat.” Izaiah Montaque Harris, playing Fanny’s longtime friend and collaborator Eddie, serves up several exciting solos of Ayodele Casel’s tap choreography.
The tapping registers more clearly than the lyrics at times, with some performers’ vocals muffled in the sound mix. The issue is most noticeable with the esteemed ladies portraying Fanny’s folks from her neighborhood — Mrs. Strakosh (Eileen T’Kaye, who’s fabulous), Mrs. Meeker (Cindy Chang), and Fanny’s saloon matron mother Mrs. Brice (Grammy winner Melissa Manchester).
That wisecracking trio contributes more to summoning the show’s early 20th-century atmosphere than David Zinn’s set, which summons more of a “Really, that’s it?” The array of digitally printed flats and backdrops picturing locations of 1900s New York, from theaters to train stations, suggest there might eventually be a big scenic reveal. No such luck.
The production’s fortune lies instead in its beloved music, Fanny and Nicky’s troubled love story, which feels heartbreakingly genuine in this telling, and, of course, in the show’s great star, McCrimmon, who, with more than a little courage, takes on a second-hand role with first-rate finesse.
Tucked below D.C. in Dupont Underground on a recent October evening, the Washington Ballet soft-launched its 2024-2025 season with an immersive Dance for All program. In addition to a well-timed popup pre-show, TWB's lithe Studio Company performed new choreography by artistic director Edwaard Liang, set to music by composer Blake Neely.
To my surprise, Liang's was practically the first face I saw as I descended into the bustling space for the performance. The former New York City Ballet soloist-turned-choreographer, and now company leader, was greeting patrons at the door, the soul of easygoing ambassadorship.
Opera may not be the nimblest of the arts, but in choosing Beethoven’s Fidelio, Francesca Zambello’s production lands right on time.
From the opera’s theme of political imprisonment to S. Katy Tucker’s haunting intro projections of prisons, actual political prisoners, and snippets of poignant Constitutional rights, its relevance is given in no uncertain terms.
Indeed, reports that a particular presidential candidate has discussed using the military to control the “enemy within” only adds to its prescience.
That said, Zambello’s potent vision isn’t quite enough to lift this production beyond more than a few inspired moments and the chance to hear conductor Robert Spano deliver the composer’s only opera (an experience Beethoven hated so much, he vowed never to attempt another one).
Matthew Broderick hovers over a camera on a recent sunny morning at The Shakespeare Theatre's Harman Hall, where he's being photographed for a Metro Weekly cover. As the photographer shows off his preference for old-school camera bodies with physical dials, as opposed to digital interfaces, a casually dressed Broderick listens intently. The magazine's publisher and the theater's publicist, meanwhile, stand to the side, each nervously counting down the minutes left as the clock rapidly runs out on the 20-minute shoot.
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