Since July 22, 1972, I have seen “Grease” nearly 70 times. Broadway productions, star-laden tours, stars-of-tomorrow tours, regional mountings, community theater productions, and even a middle school staging that featured my nephew, then 11, now 37, as Vince Fontaine have contributed to multiple memories of “Old Rydell” and its raunchier denizens.
Watching the show so many times, not to mention crooning its score on numerous car rides, including one this weekend, has led me one conclusion: The simpler an ensemble can do “Grease,” the better off they and their audience will be.
Jim Jacobs and Warren Casey, Chicagoans crafting an entertainment they had no idea would last for decades, wrote an affectionate spoof of the late 1950s featuring the rougher, more sexually forward, and less academically involved members of a working class high school. They composed songs that echoed the rock-and-roll and pop sounds that Vince Fontaine might spin on his WAXX-AM radio show. Their sentiments, too. They threw in “cuts,” one-liners and responses that comically and realistically mirror the kind of language teens of the day used to express, “Oh, yeah?” and “So’s your old man,” and added a dose of camaraderie and even occasional empathy among the Pink Ladies and Burger Palace Boys who go together like dip da dip da dip doo wop di doobie doo.
They wrote a neat, tight piece that provided recognition, laughs, and heart. All a director has to do is let Jacobs’ and Casey’s lines speak for themselves and aim for the fun, teen sensibility, and parody.
Hunter Foster does not do that in his disjointed, uninspired staging of “Grease” for New Hope’s Bucks County Playhouse.
His production is one of moments. Giuliana Augello finds the right blend of sincerity and pathos in Betty Rizzo’s “There Are Worse Things I Can Do.” Stephanie Prestage, best of cast by miles as Sandy, makes you believe her character is hopelessly devoted to the suddenly dodgy Danny Zuko and dismayed by not being accepted by the Pink Ladies. Alyssa Wray, taking a novel but engaging approach to the supposedly sophisticated Marty, aces “Freddy, My Love” and demonstrates Marty’s ease with romance. Hank Santos consistently brings focus to dance numbers that sorely need them by showing a style and litheness his casemates should follow.
Some book scenes also work, particularly the encounter between Sandy and Rizzo that leads to Augello’s big number and Danny’s (Keaton Miller)’s early transition upon seeing Sandy, from the nice, soft-spoken guy she knew from summer lovin’ on the beach to the cool dude who reverts to faux macho in front of his friends.
These sequences have intensity because the actors abandon the theatrical types they’re directed to be to become identifiable human beings who give their characters substance and definition.
The overall impression is “Grease” is being taken for granted. It has such a following, this production says, it can get away without inviting its audience into its story, or even its hijinks. It can just float along without establishing dramatic purpose or dimension. Danny and Sandy’s relationship never acquires depth. The scene at the drive-in movie is a total dud. Dance numbers are busy, but diffuse. They don’t hold attention. You could tune out of them without feeling you missed anything, including delight. I found myself more attracted to Toni DiBuono’s canny Miss Lynch (the English teacher) carrying a cardboard box from center to a stage left table than I was to the “Born to Hand-Jive” number that is one of “Grease’s” staples.
The sad part is the elements of the show and of a good production are there. They’re just not being mined.
You can see the talent on stage. Foster has assembled an agile young cast whose singing ability is obvious, even when some soloists choose to sing melodies different from the ones Jacobs and Casey composed, whose acting needs only a tad more coaching, and whose dancing is affected most by a lack of variety or wit in Alison Solomon’s by-the-numbers choreography.
Pacing and focus are the problems.
Actors not getting the gist of the lines is another.
Augello, for example, finds Rizzo’s caustic tone and candid way of speaking what is often indisputable truth, but the ends of lines, where the bite is, tend to be swallowed, so the effect of Rizzo’s barbs is muted. The character’s observations become unimportant while they should establish Rizzo as sharp and astute. In singing “Mooning,” both Sunayna Smith (Jan) and David Nick Alea (Roger) miss the wit of the song. Smith not getting and playing the joke, for instance by asking a teasing question instead of feigning outrage when she sings, “All over who-o?” is an odd lapse. Usually, she is one of the more dependable to catch and convey what Jacobs and Casey have written.
Characterization, in general, seems to be of a push-me, pull-you type. It can go in two different directions, most actors randomly going from one to the other without rhyme or reason.
The directions place too much emphasis on a line or gesture or too little. Some lines are being pushed or magnified for an alleged laugh while others fail to find or nail Jacobs’ and Casey’s jokes.
More thought has to go into what a line expresses and how to deliver that line naturally. This is especially important in large ensemble sequences. The scenes in which the Burger Place Boys are planning a rumble, scoffing at Danny’s summer fling with Sandy, running with stolen hub caps from the police, or getting a gander at Kenickie’s jalopy, Greased Lightning, are not tight enough. Like the dance numbers, they don’t insist that you follow them.
Scenes involving the Pink Ladies play better, Wray or Augello usually seeing to that. The party scene doesn’t gel until Kenickie asks Rizzo a serious question while the scene in Marty’s bedroom fares better and shows promise.
Interestingly, that scene gives Erin Kommor’s Frenchy to do what turns out to be a rare opportunity in this production, and that is act natural and show general kindness to her friends, even in what becomes a misguided attempt to help Sandy fit in.
Kommor is also affecting in the scene in which Frenchy faces facts after “Beauty School Dropout.” At other times, she seems more lost in the dance choruses. It may be why I kept thinking I don’t see Frenchy, or even Sandy, as prominently as I do in most productions.
I know it seems as if I’m nitpicking. My intention, though, is to show small lapses that turn into big dilemmas because they render this “Grease” dull. Plenty of energy comes from the stage, but both the plot and big musical numbers fail to resonate.
You should not take Danny and Sandy’s romance in stride. You should care about Rizzo’s situation. You should be riveted to “Born to Hand-Jive” and the dance section of “Beauty School Dropout.”
But you do in Danny and Sandy’s case and don’t in the others. I saw a lot of talent on the Bucks County stage, but, frankly, I did not have a good time watching this ‘Grease.” I was too busy studying why it was faltering.
Let’s go to some positives.
Stephanie Prestage is a marvelous Sandy who conveys a careful upbringing and an innocence that never becomes judgment or priggishness.
Prestage is an open, intelligent Sandy, more serious than her new friends but able to have fun. She radiates decency and common sense in a way that make it a negative comment on the Pink Ladies for making fun of her.
Brianna Ascione finds the Goldilocks touch for Rydell High’s most perfect student, Patty Simcox. She can convey Patty’s strengths while also showing she has some libido when it comes to Danny. When she expresses anger, it’s usually warranted instead of haughty or snobbish.
Toni DiBuono manages to register as the genuine article as the strict, no-nonsense Miss Lynch. She also sneaks in welcome signs of the character’s sense of humor.
Sharrod T. Brown demonstrates bravado and tears down the house as Teen Angel in “Beauty School Dropout.” Brown deftly saves vocal pyrotechnics, even more than Jacobs and Casey ask for, until the end of his number. Throughout, he is the ultimate showman, one for whom the self-consciousness that haunts Foster’s production become an escalating benefit.
Keaton Miller is a handsome Danny. He is best in the character’s softer moments because he seems more natural as an actor as Danny in them.
Seth Howard’s set impresses on first sight. It proves versatile for many Rydell High settings, gets camouflaged enough in the bedroom and party scenes, but seems awkward in passages that are set outdoors. Kirk Bookman’s lighting bails out Howard on several occasions.
Nicole V. Moody’s costumes for the women are spot-on, especially in the designs for Sandy, Betty, and Patty. Some of the shirts the men wear seem too modern for the period. Sarah Norton seemed to have the most fun of all with the hairstyles, wigs, and makeup, especially when it comes to the upward winding braids of Brown’s Teen Angel.
Grease, Bucks County Playhouse, 70 South Main Street, New Hope, Pennsylvania. Through Sunday, September 8. Tuesday and Thursday through Saturday, 7:30 p.m., and Wednesday, Thursday, Saturday, and Sunday, 1:30 p.m. $72 to $82. www.bcptheater.org or 215-862-2121.
