The Will Rogers Follies
Local Arts Reviews
Reviewed by Barry Pineo, Fri., July 20, 2001
The Will Rogers Follies: Entertainment, Small 'E'
Beverly Sheffield Zilker Hillside Theatre,through August 12
Running Time: 2 hrs, 20 min
Without giving the impression that sympathy is being sought, the job of "critic" or "reviewer" or "asshole," whatever label you like, is not even vaguely a simple one. In every instance, you are required to describe a work of art and then give your opinion about it. In the past few years, it has become fashionable, in certain circles, to say that the latter is not required, but as a reader that's the first thing I seek out, and hey -- everybody's a critic, really. However, expressing your honest, considered opinion, especially in print, can lead to bad feelings. Thus the "asshole" part and the risk that goes with it. So, without further ado, I want to get my opinion about the Zilker Theater production of The Will Rogers Follies out of the way: I didn't enjoy it. What follows are the reasons why.
Ostensibly, this musical is about the life of Will Rogers, but what it's really about is production values, singing, dancing -- the usual musical-comedy stuff. Entertainment with a capital "E." Peter Stone's book is slim, a bunch of Will Rogers' jokes and a pared-down version of his life story, but not much more than the basics, all surrounded by the milieu of the Ziegfield Follies. The songs, with music by Cy Coleman and lyrics by Betty Comden and Adolph Green, are serviceable and pleasant, poppy country or jazzy pop, the most impressive, in more ways than one, being "Favorite Son."
The tepid material is a strike against it starting out, but there's more than just that bringing down this 43rd annual Zilker Summer Musical. The set is little more than two-dimensional cardboard cutouts of boots and other objects, set off by numerous painted Western references, all rendered as if by a third-grade class. Though the performers are an attractive and seemingly pleasant-enough group, the 1930s-era costumes don't flatter them, and the color choices are questionable -- I cannot recall ever seeing so much puke green on a stage. The lighting often leaves actors inexplicably in the dark, and there's a far-too-large dead spot down center stage. The choreography is energetic and would be entertaining, but the dancers, one male in particular the night I saw it, don't execute it effectively on a consistent basis. The staging also is ineffective and consists of little more than people pacing back and forth and gesturing repetitively. The sound almost never works the way it should. Sometimes I could hear the singers, sometimes I couldn't, sometimes I got buzzing and feedback.
I liked the cast well enough (especially the group of Will's children, who display a great sense of fun). Unfortunately, they seemed to get almost no help. I also liked the "Favorite Son" number, despite the bizarre, distracting costumes that make the Ziegfield ladies look as though they all have large, fuzzy breasts with red, white, and blue nipples. Which brings me around, finally, to the direction. Barring the unforeseen, the director is responsible for everything that happens on a stage. If "blame" must be placed, it must be squarely on the director's shoulders. The director here is Michael Harlan. While I know from local scuttlebutt that this production was hounded by problems, there are few excuses for much of what I saw. If blame there is, it must go entirely to Mr. Harlan. He's a big boy. He can take it.