NYC News

Photo: Julieta Cervantes

By Brian Scott Lipton

As has been frequently noted, conquering the role of the domineering stage mother Rose in the 1959 Arthur Laurents-Jule Styne-Stephen Sondheim musical, “Gypsy,” now at the beautifully renovated Majestic Theatre, is the musical theater equivalent of climbing Mount Everest. And while she might protest otherwise, six-time Tony Award winner Audra McDonald needs no sherpa to reach the top, no matter the challenge.

So, you guessed it, she’s swell, she’s great, she has the whole world on her plate throughout the three hours it takes to tell the years-long story of Rose, her promising if ill-fated romance with talent agent Herbie (a forceful yet achingly vulnerable Danny Burstein), and her volatile relationships with her two daughters, the multitalented yet unhappy June (an excellent Jordan Tyson) — who runs off as a teenager with the fleet-footed Tulsa (an excellent Kevin Csolak) -- and the shy Louise (Joy Woods, mostly wonderful), who ultimately transforms herself into the world-famous stripper Gypsy Rose Lee.

Since many of you know the show, from either its five previous Broadway productions (starring such legends as Ethel Merman, Bernadette Peters and Patti LuPone) or its film or television adaptations, let’s get two things out of the way. Yes, McDonald, Tyson and Woods are all African American or biracial, but somehow George C. Wolfe’s production manages to make this landmark casting feel both color-blind and color-conscious, which is quite a balancing act.

No one ever mentions their race, not the performers with whom they appear on the same stage (never mind share dressing rooms or even bathrooms), nor the Chinese restaurant waitress who serves the family, nor anyone else. (And, yes, “Gypsy” tells the story of actual white people). But McDonald’s line readings, especially when she quotes the “good book,” and the way her determination to get what she wants feels even stronger than usual, especially since it often comes after Rose is somewhat deferential to those who try to stop her, seems very in keeping with the African American experience.

The second point is McDonald’s voice, which I believe is the finest female one on the musical stage right now. Admittedly, she doesn’t have the boffo belt of most of her predecessors, and her “big finish” notes come from her head voice, an operatic soprano. That may be discomfiting to some patrons, but I think she sounds completely glorious. (And let’s face it, if you never heard these songs before, would you notice or even care?)

More to the point, McDonald makes sure that Sondheim’s lyrics are not only stunningly articulate; they also have a distinct meaning. You realize how hard Rose is trying to convince herself Louise can be a star during the act one finale, “Everything’s Coming Up Roses,” or how she has finally found the courage to admit how and why she lived her life during “Rose’s Turn,” which is a moment of catharsis, but not a nervous breakdown. (McDonald seems to have taken the line “I was born too early and started too late” as the thesis of her characterization).

Furthermore, McDonald’s singular voice – both while speaking and singing – gives her Rose a warmth that has been missing from previous portrayals. You understand why Rose had three husbands (with Herbie almost literally dying to be the fourth) or how she can talk (or sing) her way out of difficult predicaments, like hiding four boys in a boardinghouse.

Much of Wolfe’s production rises to McDonald’s level, especially the segment with the hard-bitten strippers Tessie Tura (a Tony-worthy Lesli Margherita), Mazeppa (Lili Thomas), and Electra (an understated Mylinda Hall, who doubles to hilarious effect as the officious secretary Miss Cratchit). It’s no surprise they stop the show with the clever “You Gotta Get a Gimmick,” but they practically steal it. (So does the incredible Jade Smith, who I saw as the unbelievably energetic and polished Baby June.)

Woods is very effective for most of the show as the tomboyish, attention-seeking Louise – she almost broke my heart during “Little Lamb,” a song I normally despise – but she almost literally loses her footing during “Let Me Entertain You” – aka “The Strip.” This is the late-show sequence in which we watch Louise truly blossom into Gypsy Rose Lee. Foolishly, some of her monologues have been cut or trimmed, which hurts the character’s development. And it doesn’t help that Woods also fails to display any of Gypsy’s faux sophistication.

That said, Woods seems very comfortable both in the final “Strip” segment, the “Garden of Eden” number (looking like Josephine Baker in Toni Leslie-James’ resplendent green dress and executing Camille A. Brown’s evocative choreography), as well as during the show’s final sequence, in which Rose and Gypsy finally reach a wary rapprochement

Yes, the show may be called “Gypsy,” but it’s Rose who is front and center. Luckily, McDonald offers the kind of fully committed, thoroughly thoughtful and often breathtaking performance people will talk about for decades. Don’t miss it!

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