Notes from the Breen Office

Patrick Breen has appeared in the original Broadway productions of Brighton Beach Memoirs and Big River, in such top-rank Off-Broadway fare as Fuddy Meers and The Substance of Fire, and in films ranging from Galaxy Quest to Men in Black to (wait for it!) Ishtar. Now he's starring in the Broadway transfer of Geoffrey Nauffts' lauded play Next Fall as Adam, an out gay man and an atheist in love with Luke (Patrick Heusinger), a devout Christian who considers his own homosexuality a sin. (See photo below.)

I first met Patrick many years ago, when both of us were fresh out of high school on Staten Island. Back in the day, he went by his actual first name, so I knew him as Joe Breen. That also happens to have been the name of the man who served as chief administrator of the notorious Motion Picture Production Code, which did its damnedest to keep "unacceptable content" -- including almost any allusion to homosexuality -- out of all Hollywood films from roughly 1934 to 1968. (How deliciously ironic that one of the stars of the very gay-positive Next Fall shares his moniker with the fellow whose job involved such tasks as eviscerating the screenplay of Tea and Sympathy.) Patrick and I had spoken once or twice since our days on S.I., but not for quite a while, so it was fun to catch up with him during our recent interview.

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BROADWAYSTARS: In your Playbill bio for Next Fall, you come right out and say it: "Patrick is from Staten Island." I think it's great that you represent.

PATRICK BREEN: Yeah, baby! That's where I'm from! I was born in Brooklyn, but we moved when I was three, so I consider myself a real Staten Islander. Me and Ricky Schroeder.

STARS: I tried to make a list of Islanders who've had major success in theater and the performing arts, but I didn't come up with many: Tony Award winner Randy Graff, opera great Eileen Farrell. Then there's Galt MacDermot...

PB: Really?

STARS: Oh, yeah. I'm pretty sure he still lives there. What other famous Islanders can we think of?

PB: The Wu-Tang Clan.

STARS: See, I didn't know that, but I'm no expert on hip-hop. Oh, and let's not forget Paul Zindel.

PB: Yes! He taught at my high school, Tottenville.

STARS: Are you still in touch with anyone from the old days?

PB: Sure. Facebook has helped a lot. I was on the gymnastics team at Tottenville, and now I'm back in contact with all those guys. And I've reconnected with my first friend, a girl I knew when we were in kindergarten. We've been getting together to play Scrabble.

STARS: Your bio reminded me that you were in Ishtar. What do you have to say about that experience?

PB: That was my first movie. It got me my SAG card. I'm in the first sequence; we filmed it at the old club Trax on 72nd Street. I was seated at a table with three other actors. One of them was this beautiful girl who was dating Bob Fosse at the time. She must have been about 20. I remember Warren Beatty came over and hit on her, but he was hitting on all the young women. It was crazy. I'll never forget the direction I received from Elaine May. Mind you, I had two lines in the movie. At one point, Elaine said, "Patrick, stop mugging" -- and she didn't come over to the table, she said it over the microphone, so Warren and Dustin Hoffman and everybody else could hear.

STARS: This might be a good time to change the subject and talk about Next Fall. Was the credibility of the Adam-Luke relationship a challenge for you during rehearsals?

PB: Well, no. My sister's married to a Jewish guy, and she's Catholic. I think people have all kinds of interfaith relationships.

STARS: Sure, but Luke is extreme about his beliefs, going so far as to pray after having sex with Adam because he thinks it's a sin.

PB: Yes. That's a huge gulf between them, and it's the thing that Adam can never reconcile. He does leave Luke at the end of the play. Only with the death of Luke does Adam come to realize that what he had was authentic love.

STARS: I didn't find the relationship difficult to believe, partly because I assume Adam keeps hoping Luke will open his eyes and recognize religious homophobia for what it is.

PB: Of course. At almost the last moment, Adam asks Luke, "Come on, did you ever think you're the crazy one?"

STARS: The last time you and I spoke, we discussed your sharing a name with the infamous Joseph Breen. How do you think he'd react to movies like Brokeback Mountain?

PB: I don't know! Did you see This Film is Not Yet Rated? It's a documentary about the current ratings system, and how arbitrary it is -- how the board will give a PG rating to a horribly violent movie and an R rating to a movie that portrays love and sex. But I do think some progress has been made since the days of the Breen office. Didn't Brokeback Mountain win the Best Picture Oscar?

STARS: No. It was favored to win but it lost to Crash.

PB: Oh. Well, I guess it's just like Adam Lambert on American Idol; he came in second, but everybody thought he should have won!

STARS: I hope Next Fall will be made into a film eventually. It's a moving and powerful play, on top of the fact that so much of it is so funny. Have you heard any particularly memorable reactions from audience members?

PB: Yes. We had students from the Harvey Milk School at a preview performance, and we did a talk-back afterward. One girl, about 16 or 17, said she couldn't believe she was at a Broadway show where people like her were represented on stage. I thought, "There you go." How great that a play can actually increase a person's self-esteem because someone had the courage to write it and other people were brave enough to produce it. And, I have to say, I think it's a wonderful coincidence that Harvey Fierstein did Torch Song Trilogy at the same theater 30 years ago.

Where is Will?

Having myself written program notes and liner notes for a few stage productions and recordings, I usually feel a combination of sympathy, amusement, and annoyance when I read a piece in which the author tries to make a case for a play, musical, opera, or whatever that's generally considered to have little artistic worth. My response depends primarily on the writer's tone, so annoyance predominated when I read the Playbill notes for the Metropolitan Opera's current revival of Ambroise Thomas's Hamlet, an opera that enjoyed a brief period of popularity following its premiere in 1868 but thereafter fell into deserved obscurity until recent, ill-advised attempts to bring it back from the dead. (The fact that its last performance at the Met prior to this revival was in 1897 is telling.)

Over the decades, the opera has been derided for the huge cuts and changes that librettists Michel Carré and Jules Barbier made in adapting Shakespeare's immortal text to the operatic stage, including but not limited to the understandable excision of several supporting characters and the unforgivable, wholesale rewriting of the final scene so that -- are you ready for this? -- Hamlet lives. (At least, that's what happens in the original version of the opera, which premiered in Paris. Knowing he would probably be lynched if such an abomination were to be presented in England, Thomas subsequently wrote a "Covent Garden ending" in which the Prince does, indeed, die, stabbed in a cemetery by Laërtes. The Met's new production conflates both versions of the ending in a way that's likely to please no one.)

Over and above the libretto's flaws, a huge problem with the opera is the fact that Thomas's music is far too light in terms of both weight and color for this quintessentially tragic tale. Even Ophelia's lengthy mad scene -- the only portion of the work that's frequently excerpted for performance in recitals or on recordings -- is much more commendable as a showpiece for the vocal technique of a superb coloratura soprano than for limning the unfortunate young woman whom Hamlet mistreats so horrendously.

In the face of all this, some of the material included in the Met's Playbill for Hamlet is very nervy. One uncredited writer goes so far as to contend that, "Besides the spectacle, Thomas also added deeper dramatic layers" to the story. (Really? He added "deeper dramatic layers" than are present in Shakespeare? That's quite a statement.) A few pages later, Paul Thomason insists that "turning up one's nose at Hamlet the opera merely because it's not Hamlet the play makes as much sense as sneering at a lobster soufflé because it is not roast beef." Well, that really isn't a fair comparison. I think we can all agree that translating a work of art from one medium to another requires major changes ipso facto; but when the adaptation contradicts the spirit and tone of the original, then a turned-up nose is an appropriate response. (By way of contrast, see the Verdi/Boito Otello, which omits an entire act of Shakespeare's play but still honors the source material through the librettist's brilliant distillation of the tragedy and the composer's monumental music.)

If the Met's program note writers fail to persuade us that Hamlet is an opera worthy of revival, the artists involved in the new production work their hardest to do just that, even if they too are ultimately unsuccessful. This was my first opportunity to hear the extraordinary baritone Simon Keenlyside (pictured above) sing live, and his gorgeous voice is as deeply appreciated in the title role as his exceptional acting ability and riveting stage presence. Marlis Petersen, subbing for Natalie Dessay on short notice, is a vocally and dramatically brilliant Opelia. The great Jennifer Larmore and James Morris are luxury cast as Gertrude and Claudius; David Pittsinger, who has recently been seen and heard next door at the Vivian Beaumont as Emile DeBecque in South Pacific, makes a strong impression as the ghost of Hamlet's father; and in the brief role of Laertes (here Laërte), Toby Spence displays an uncommonly beautiful tenor voice with laser-sharp focus.

Stage directors Patrice Caurier and Moshe Leiser, set designer Christian Fenouillat, lighting designer Christophe Forey, and costume designer Agostino Cavalca bring us a dark, spare production that is far more appropriate to the spirit of the Shakespeare original than anything the composer has wrought. Louis Langrée does an excellent job conducting a score that would be better suited to an operatic adaptation of a Parisian boulevard drama than to one of the most psychologically complex tragedies ever written.

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All Gay, All the Time

Lots of people have been weighing in on the current spate of gay-themed shows on and off Broadway, so I thought I might offer some notes on three of them. A recent return visit to The Temperamentals -- the third time I've seen the show, each time in a different venue -- only fostered greater admiration for Jon Marans' expertly wrought docudrama about Harry Hay and the the prototypical 1950s gay rights movement that was known as the Matachine Society. Thomas Jay Ryan continues to give a fully committed, wonderfully well-grounded performance as Hay; Vince Gatton did a magnificent job of subbing for Michael Urie in the role of Rudi Gernreich on the night I attended; and the rest of the company, under the sharp direction of Jonathan Silverstein, made it crystal clear why this show just keeps going and going.

At the other end of the spectrum, Alexi Kaye Campbell's The Pride is largely undeserving of all the hype it's been getting -- hype that I can only attribute to excess Anglophilia. To be sure, the performances of Hugh Dancy, Ben Whishaw, Andrea Riseborough, and Adam James are commendable; but I found this tale of two generations of gay Brits to be clichéd and all too willing to rely on shock effects for whatever drama it attempts to create. (Here's an observation: If the play you're seeing includes a gratuitous, graphic rape scene, as in The Pride and the recent, justifiably panned Rattlestick Playwrights Theater production of Craig Wright's Blind, it probably represents a cheap and desperate attempt on the part of the playwright and director to spark a play that's not very good overall. Please note by way of comparison that in Tennessee Williams' A Streetcar Named Desire, the rape of Blanche by Stanley happens after the lights go down.)

Finally, let me give a shout-out to one of the best productions I've seen in more than 40 years of theatergoing: The Transport Group's environmental-theater revival of Mart Crowley's The Boys in the Band, with Jonathan Hammond as Michael, Nick Westrate as Donald, Jon Levenson as Harold, John Wellmann as Emory, Christopher Innvar as Larry, Graham Rowat as Hank, Kevyn Morrow as Bernard, Aaron Sharff as Cowboy, and the amazing Kevin Isola as odd-man-out Alan. Though several of these actors are cast against the physical types we're generally used to seeing in this seminal gay play (see photo above), they truly make each of their roles their own. In case you haven't heard, the show is brilliantly directed by Jack Cummings III in a penthouse apartment space at 37 West 26th street, with the performers sometimes just inches away from the spectators. Boys has been extended through March 28, and I urge you not to miss it under any circumstances.

Steinbeck Sings

The 1990 Steppenwolf Theatre production of The Grapes of Wrath, adapted for the stage by Frank Galati, was one of the finest, most deeply moving shows I've ever seen on Broadway. It won the Tony Award for Best Play and garnered rave reviews, including a "must see" notice from Frank Rich of The New York Times. Yet Grapes ran less than six months, presumably because audiences were wary that this play based on John Steinbeck's Pulitzer Prize-winning novel about desperately poor "Okies" seeking work in California in the 1930s would be "depressing." (Well, umm, it is about the Great Depression...)

It's generally true that straight plays with very sad stories tend not to have long runs on Broadway, if they're produced at all; but on the other hand, many sob-inducing musicals have been embraced by audiences. And, heaven knows, opera has a great tradition of immortal works with tremendously sad plots. So Ricky Ian Gordon and librettist Michael Korie were wise in choosing to adapt The Grapes of Wrath for the operatic stage.

A beautiful 2007 recording of the world premiere production at Minnesota Opera is available through PS Classics, and now Grapes is set to have its NYC premiere in a two-act concert version at Carnegie Hall on Monday, March 22, featuring The Collegiate Chorale and an amazing cast mixing such legit-voiced musical theater stars as Victoria Clark, Christine Ebersole, and Steven Pasquale with opera notables Nathan Gunn, Elizabeth Futral, Anthony Dean Griffey, et al. Ted Sperling will conduct the performance. And if all that's not enough to mark this as a red-letter event, the concert will be narrated by Jane Fonda -- whose father, Henry Fonda, played Tom Joad in John Ford's classic 1940 film version of The Grapes of Wrath. I recently spoke with Gordon about this new American opera, which has already had successful productions in four different cities.

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BROADWAYSTARS: How did you hit on the idea for an opera based on The Grapes of Wrath?

RICKY IAN GORDON: Most of my ideas are my own, but in this case, I was approached by Minnesota Opera in 1998. At first, I quaked at the idea because of the book's iconic stature, and also because of the size of the project. I had to go to L.A. for a job, so I took the book with me; I read it on the way there and on the way back, and I had an overwhelming feeling that whether this was a scary thing to say yes to or not, if I said no I might as well just hang up my composer's hat. It's such a breathtaking story, the characters are so vividly drawn, and the structure of the book is so profoundly operatic.

STARS: How did Michael Korie come aboard as librettist?

GORDON: Michael and I had been working on an ill-fated musical, and I felt he was a genius. I asked him to read The Grapes of Wrath with an eye towards an opera, and he saw immediately that it had a three-act structure. Then he went away to the MacDowell Colony and wrote Act I of the libretto in a very short time. We met at this house, and it was clear to me from the first few lines that he knew just how to musicalize the story; he somehow took the whole prologue of the book, about the birth of the Dust Bowl, and turned it into a prologue for the opera. The way he wrote it, the opera would start with a stage full of green corn, and you would heard the sounds of a light rain. The opening song would be called "The Last Time There Was Rain." It's a bucolic vision of the past, and it's right out of Steinbeck.

STARS: Did you begin writing the music almost immediately?

GORDON: Yes. I wasn't supposed to start until Michael had finished the libretto, but as soon as I read the first act, I started hearing the music and I had to begin. It took about three and a half years to write the score. We had a very fortuitous premiere in Minnesota. I think we were all scared, because The Grapes of Wrath is a lot of people's favorite book. There a huge potential to push the buttons of people who feel very possessive of it. But we got amazing reviews for a new work, and the opera went on to subsequent productions in Utah, Pittsburgh, and Houston. It has a life now.

STARS: Tell me a little bit about the concert version that will be presented at Carnegie Hall.

GORDON: Ted Sperling and The Collegiate Chorale approached me about doing the whole opera in a concert reading at the hall, but I didn't think that was a good idea. For one thing, any work of theater -- especially one of this length -- hinges largely upon the staging. I have full faith in the score, but I thought that it would be a lot to ask of an audience to hear the entire piece in concert. Meanwhile, I had prepared a choral suite from the opera for the Los Angeles Master Chorale to sing at Disney Hall. But I said, "Why don't we do something new?" We decided to do not the whole opera, not the choral suite, but an edited version of the score that features The Collegiate Chorale and a killer roster of soloists, with most of the recitatives cut and a narrator reading sections of the novel. We started looking around for a narrator, and suddenly it came to us: Jane Fonda, because of her father. Jane said yes, all of the soloists we wanted said yes, and it all fell into place.

STARS: Do you think we might ever see The Grapes of Wrath at the Met or New York City Opera?

GORDON: I have a fantasy of the Met doing it. After the premiere in Minnesota, I got a note of congratulations from Peter Gelb at the Met. I guess they had sent a spy to come and hear it. And then I got a commission from the Met as part of their new commissioning program; Michael and I are writing an opera based on the story of Adèle Hugo, Victor Hugo's daughter. I've joked with Peter, "Oh, come on, do Grapes and our new opera! Do them both!" One thing that would be great about Grapes at the Met is that it's a very big work. But because of the way it's written, it can be done either as a full-out operatic production or the way we're going to do it at Carnegie Hall, with a cast that will highlight its musical theater aspects.

STARS: The film is a masterpiece, and Galati's stage adaptation was superlative, even if it didn't run very long on Broadway. Did the structure of the film or the play help you and Michael in your adaptation?

GORDON: No, and I'll tell you why: Right from the beginning, we wanted to do something different than the play or the movie. First of all, the most devastating moment in the book is the last image of Rosasharn nursing the starving man, and that's not in the movie. Also, what both the play and the movie avoid -- understandably, in some ways -- is that, in the book, the story of the Joads alternates with chapters that are a sort of Steinbeckian documentary about what was happening in the United States at that time. The book is structured almost as a social history of the country as seen through the Joads. We decided to use those in-between chapters and set them as huge choral numbers.

STARS: Did you see the Steppenwolf production?

GORDON: Yes. I actually saw it with Frank Galati. He took me to see it because we were planning on doing a piece based on the writings of Jean Cocteau. I never wrote more than one aria for that, because the Cocteau estate was notorious and was charging way too much money for the rights. But I did get to see The Grapes of Wrath. I was very moved by it, and some of those portrayals -- Lois Smith, Sally Murphy, and some of the others -- were so indelible that I saw them in my head while I was writing the opera.

STARS: Do you feel that this heartbreaking, based-in-truth story is more palatable as an opera than as an evening of non-musical theater?

GORDON: I was worried about that, but I'll tell you: When we opened in Minnesota, we were sold out for every performance and people were scalping tickets for $500 each. It was an incredible experience. I think opera audiences are more used to big, sad, epic stories. I still feel like a theater composer when I write an opera, but the difference is that you get to play with all the guns. In opera, you can do really big stuff and people will come!

Colored Lights

Some shows, like Gypsy, Fiddler, and My Fair Lady, can be counted upon for frequent revivals. But how often can one expect to see a remounting of The Rink, the flop John Kander-Fred Ebb-Terrence McNally musical from 1984? Well, here's your chance, folks: Musicals Tonight! is presenting a staged concert version of the show March 9-21 at the McGinn/Cazale Theatre (2162 Broadway at 76th Street). The cast is headed by Mary Jo Mecca and Stacie Perlman as Anna and Angel, the roles originally played by Chita Rivera and Liza Minnelli, with Danny Gardner as Ben, David Garry as Dino, David Brent Howard as Tony, Christian Marriner as Lucky, Brad Nacht as Buddy, David Shane as Lino, and Paige Simunovich as the Little Girl. Check out my pix of the final dress rehearsal, below. For more information on the production or to purchase tickets, go to MusicalsTonight.org.

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Thinking About Yank!

The shows that work like a charm aren't the only ones that stick in our minds. For the past week or so, I haven't been able to stop thinking about Yank!, the deeply moving but highly problematic musical by brothers Joseph and David Zellnik that's now playing at the York Theatre after years of development and at least two previous productions, one as part of NYMF and the other by The Gallery Players of Brooklyn.

Yank! attempts to tell a gay love story about two World War II-era soldiers named Stu and Mitch (respectively played by Bobby Steggert and Ivan Hernandez, pictured at left) in the style of the stage and film musicals of the 1940s. It's a tribute to the Zellniks and their collaborators that they pull off this fascinating but tricky concept for much of the show's length, which makes the sections in which they stumble all the more disappointing -- and frustrating, given that solutions to most of the show's problems would seem to be quite obvious.

Less than a minute of stage time passes before the first major misstep. On the plus side, the authors had the great idea to give context and add resonance to the story with a framing device: A modern-day gay man, also played by Steggert, reflects on what life must have been like for two men who fell in love with each other in the gay-unfriendly '40s and, even worse, while they were grunts in a virulently homophobic army. But then this nameless young man tells us he learned about Stu and Mitch via Stu's diary, which he found in a junk shop in San Francisco.

The Zellniks proceed to show us just how rigid and brutal the U.S. military could be in dealing with homosexuals who didn't follow the then-unstated "don't ask, don't tell" rule. Yet we're supposed to believe that Stu would keep a diary explicitly detailing his feelings for and relationship with Mitch, this is an environment where there could be no reasonable expectation that the privacy of said diary would be respected. Better to have had the present-day gay man come across a photo of two army guys in which a romantic relationship was implicit but not stated, with some sort of ambiguous inscription on the back. To instead have the guy find a diary that would never realistically have existed, unless Stu was a reckless fool, is a central dramaturgical blunder that undermines Yank! in a big way.

Another huge miscalculation occurs at the end of Act I with the Mitch-Stu duet "A Couple of Regular Guys," in which they dream of someday living together in a little house somewhere in Middle America. It's an okay song and a lovely thought, the only problem being that neither of these men -- especially not the conflicted Mitch -- would ever be able to imagine such an idyllic situation, let alone express his feelings in song. Of course, the Zellniks needed for there to be at least one love ballad in Yank!, so how could they have handled it? One unexplored option is that the lyrics to the song could have been oblique. Alternatively, the authors might have written a scene in which Mitch would sing a full-out love song ostensibly to a pretty young lady from the Women's Army Corps but surreptitiously direct it towards Stu. (Now, wouldn't that have been something? I'm getting chills just thinking about it.)

Yank! also veers off course in that the conventions of a 1940s musical often clash with the serious tale that's being told, as when Stu suddenly and incredibly slips into a pair of tap shoes and joins fellow gay serviceman Artie -- played by Jeffry Denman, who also choreographed the show -- in a number titled "Click." Then there's the unnecessary, smirk-inducing "dream ballet," in which Dream Stu (Joseph Medeiros) and Dream Mitch (Denis Lambert) dance a pas de deux that distills their ill-fated relationship. Word of mouth and Internet chatter indicate that even some of this show's staunchest admirers can't stand the ballet, but the Zellniks and director Igor Goldin have retained it nonetheless. One might admire them for holding fast to their artistic convictions, but on the other hand, one might question their judgment in insisting on giving the audience something it doesn't want.

There are many other flaws in the show. One of the most significant is that the Zellniks provide little opportunity for Stu and Mitch to really get to know each other during the first few scenes; so when Stu suddenly declares his love for Mitch in the middle of Act I and Mitch replies "I love you too, kid," the moment is believable only because of the talent and charisma of the actors, not because the writers have done their job well. Then there are those sections of the script where very strange things happen in order to move the plot along. For example, when Stu is outed as a homosexual, he's given a choice of five years in a military prison or going to fight on the front lines, where he'll presumably be killed. (Really? Wouldn't the brass view the front lines as the worst possible place for someone whose very presence is considered destructive to a fighting unit's cohesion? And, in any event, is it remotely plausible that the man in question would be allowed to choose his punishment?) Finally, there's the ludicrous scene toward the end of the show where Stu immediately forgives Tennessee (Andrew Durand), the redneck who told the brass about his diary and thereby caused him to be thrown into solitary confinement.

Make no mistake: These and other problems notwithstanding, much of Yank! is wonderful. The scenes of camaraderie between the motley crew of soldiers, including the songs "Polishing Shoes" and "Letters/Remembering You," are neat. Act I includes a funny war movie parody starring the fabulous Nancy Anderson as an angelic army nurse. The crowning moment of the entire show is the heartbreaking scene in which Stu finally reconnects with the injured Mitch back home -- still hoping they can somehow have a life together -- and receives the devastating news that Mitch is married. But again, the effect of this and other scenes is due as much to the superb performances of Steggert and Hernandez as to the actual quality of the writing.

Yank! is going over so well at the York that the run has been extended through April 4. My guess is that the brothers Zellnik now consider their work to be finished, especially given the mostly rapturous audience response. But in my opinion, this is one of those cases -- like Brokeback Mountain -- where people become so emotionally involved in a sad, beautiful gay love story that they choose not to notice or be bothered by major flaws in the storytelling. If the Zellniks ever do decide to take another pass at the show, here are my suggestions, for whatever they're worth: (1) change the diary to a photo; (2) amplify the interaction between Mitch and Stu in the early scenes; (3) rework the number "Click" so that Artie is the only one who taps; (4) figure out some way to make the Mitch/Stu love song indirect; (5) get rid of the dream ballet; (6) don't send Stu to the front lines; and (7) cut or completely rewrite the reconciliation scene between Stu and Tennessee. All of this would go a long way toward making Yank! the truly excellent, groundbreaking musical it wants to be.

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Follow the Fellow

It's sad, confounding, and kind of scary that the recent Broadway revival of the evergreen Burton Lane/E.Y. Harburg musical Finian's Rainbow had such a brief run despite receiving almost universal acclaim from the critics. But the pot of gold at the end of this evanescent rainbow is the recently released cast recording from P.S. Classics.

In one sense, this CD wasn't vitally necessary, as Finian's already had a legacy of four excellent recordings: (1) the exciting Original Broadway Cast album, featuring the strange but bracing vocal embellishments of Ella Logan in the leading female role of Sharon McLonergan; (2) the 1960 Broadway revival album, highlighted by Jeannie Carson's lovely, more straightforward renditions of Sharon's songs; (3) the 1968 film soundtrack with Petula Clark and Fred Astaire, a wonderful presentation of the score even though the movie itself is a bit of a mess; and (4) the recording of the Irish Rep's delightful 2004 Off-Broadway production, commendable for the performances of Melissa Errico, Max Von Essen, Malcolm Gets, et al., even if the accompaniment is limited to two pianos. But the new cast album is a worthwhile addition to the library if only because it captures the vocal performances of Kate Baldwin, Cheyenne Jackson, et al., and it also gives us Robert Russell Bennett's and Don Walker's gorgeous original orchestrations in state-of-the-art digital stereo sound for the first time.

The recording starts unpromisingly with a somewhat stiff account of the overture; I assume this is because the full piece was not played in the theater, and when the cut sections were reinstated for the recording, the performance suffered because music director Rob Berman wasn't used to conducting the whole thing and the musicians weren't used to playing it. But, thereafter, all is more than well in terms of both orchestra and singers. Baldwin is terrific as Sharon, one of the most refreshing aspects of her performance being that she "belts" a good deal more of the role than her recorded predecessors. Only momentarily does this turn out to be an unwise decision: When she goes for the high note on the last word of the phrase "and he's not the hero" in "If This Isn't Love," it sounds less than pretty. Elsewhere, she expertly mixes chest and head voice, and the warmth of her middle register is greatly appreciated on such ballads as "How Are Things in Glocca Morra?" and "Look to the Rainbow."

As Woody, Jackson displays a warm, rounded baritone and has a warm, friendly presence. Jim Norton's Finian gets more lines to sing on this recording than this character is usually allotted (the film soundtrack is a major exception), and he delivers them with great verve, humor, and authenticity. Christopher Fitzgerald is a pixified delight as the leprechaun Og, charming and tickling us with some of Harburg's cleverest lyrics.

Which brings me to an oddity in this otherwise virtually complete aural document of the score. As originally written by Harburg, a section of the song "That Great Come-and-Get-It-Day" goes as follows: "Bells will ring in every steeple; come and get your test on the movie screen. Come you free and you equal people, come and get your beer and your Benzedrine!" For the new recording and the production it documents, the lyrics of this quatrain and the previous one were rearranged and the line "Come you free and you equal people" was cut.

It's hard to guess why this happened or who's responsible for it, but there were a few other weird little cuts made for the show and the CD—some of which may have been the doing of David Ives, who's credited with having adapted the show for the City Center Encores! presentation that yielded the Broadway revival. Or maybe the person responsible is Arnold Perlman, who adapted Ives's adaptation for Broadway. Whatever, these excisions are unfortunate, even though they represent only a few seconds in a generally respectful revival and recording of one of the most beloved musicals in the canon.