It’s Now a Musical????

Sometimes the most unlikely stories are turned into musicals. At first blush, it would seem that “Days of Wine and Roses” could easily fit into that category, but judgment should be reserved in the case of the version now being presented by the Atlantic Theater Company in New York.

Written by J.P. Miller for television’s Playhouse 90 in 1958, the original version of “Days of Wine and Roses” starred Cliff Robertson and Piper Laurie as Joe Clay and Kirsten Arnesen. Better known of course is the 1962 film with Jack Lemmon and Lee Remick, giving what were among the best performances of their careers (In Jack Lemmon’s case, though, pride of place may go to his Jerry/Daphne in “Some Like It Hot”). Aside from length, the television and film versions differ in one significant respect—in the former, Joe and Kirsten are both drinkers when they meet; in the latter Kirsten is initially a teetotaler whose path to alcohol is paved by Joe. Both versions share the same tragic story—a young couple of promise devolving into what Joe ultimately calls “a couple of drunks afloat on a sea of booze and the boat sank.” While he eventually achieves sobriety by story’s end, Kirsten does not, though at least in the film we see her walk past a bar rather than entering it after Joe refuses to take her back unless she commits to staying sober.

Does this work as a musical? Based on the performance saw last Saturday, I’d have to say “sometimes.” In tone, this version of “Days and Wine and Roses” tends to follow the bleaker television play as opposed to the film, with some inventions such as a military backstory for Joe and a more prominent role for the couple’s daughter. But without a doubt, the show’s biggest asset is the pairing of Brian d’Arcy James and Kelli O’Hara as Joe and Kirsten. They’ve got chemistry, an essential component in making this story work, and it’s a pleasure to watch them perform.

However, the addition of song to this story does very little for the most part, and it’s not necessarily the fault of the show’s creators. A musical version of “Days of Wine and Roses” would have to overcome two major issues—the familiarity of the material and its dramatically powerful nature. Music can’t heighten what are already dramatic peaks—Joe’s cajoling Kirsten into drinking while she’s nursing, his attempted rescue of her from that seedy motel, and the crushing final scene, when Kirsten, unconfident of her ability to keep sober, flees Joe and their daughter. Nevertheless, there are stand-out moments in Adam Guettel’s score. The “Evanesce” duet with its Sondheim-like tonality and rhythm, while initially playful, takes on a darker hue later in the show when Joe and Kirsten no longer drink for enjoyment but to feed their addiction. Joe’s heartrending apology to Kirsten in song after he loudly arrives home drunk late at night, waking their baby, is another standout, as is Kirsten’s reprise of Joe’s “Forgiveness” song, when at last we hear Kelli O’Hara’s radiant soprano soar above the staff.

“Days of Wine and Roses” is currently playing through July 9. See it and decide for yourself.

Champion and Other Opera Notes

©New York Daily News

Certain images are guaranteed to stay with you your entire life. For me one of the most vivid is the photo you see above, which first appeared on the back page of a New York City tabloid on March 25, 1962. This was the conclusion of a nationally televised welterweight title fight between Benny “Kid” Paret (white trunks) and Emile Griffith (black trunks). Although Paret wound up in a coma and died ten days later, there’s no doubt this photo captured the man literally dying on his feet after seventeen unanswered punches from Griffith.

Emile Griffith’s life is now the subject of Terence Blanchard’s opera, “Champion,” currently enjoying a run at the Metropolitan Opera through May 13. At curtain’s rise we see an older Emile, sung by Eric Owens, suffering from dementia and haunted by Kid Paret’s death. The road to that fight and its aftermath are inextricably tied to who Emile Griffith was—a gay, closeted champ at a time when the love that dare not speak its name was deafeningly silent in sports. We flash back to Emile in his prime (Ryan Speedo Greene) who leads us through his history as a hat designer, singer and baseball player before he departs his native Virgin Islands for New York City where he turns to boxing.

“Champion” is an interesting amalgam of jazz, Caribbean rhythm, louche dive bar tunes and especially soaring vocal lines. This last is most evident in young Emile’s aria “What Makes a Man,” though for me the more striking aria belongs to Emile’s mother, wonderfully sung by Latonia Moore, which skirts atonality and seems to float in the ether as she describes her early life.

This production of “Champion” is particularly inventive, especially in its depiction of the Paret/Griffith bout (punches are thrown but freeze before landing). At the performance I attended the singers were uniformly excellent: Eric Owens was especially touching in depicting Emile’s dementia and his quest for absolution from Kid Paret’s son, Stephanie Blythe did an amusing, jazzy turn as the owner of a gay bar, and above all, Ryan Speedo Greene was extraordinary as both singer and actor, whether as an up-and-coming fighter or as the reigning champ, eventually forced to face retirement.

I can’t leave this discussion without mentioning the excellent documentary, “Ring of Fire: The Emile Griffith Story,” which clearly demonstrates that Griffith’s furious beating of Paret after the latter had called him a “maricón” (“faggot”) at the weigh-in, was not the sole cause of Paret’s eventual death. Paret had lost his previous five fights and did not feel well prior to his bout with Griffith. Yet his unscrupulous manager wanted to squeeze the last possible dollar out of his prize money, the New York Boxing Commission should never have allowed Paret to get into the ring with Griffith, and the referee should have stopped the fight before he did, though whether this would have made any difference is something we’ll never know. “Champion” covers all of this, but unfortunately omits the words Benny Paret, Jr says to Emile when they finally meet in the most poignant scene in the film: “No hard feelings.”

“Champion” has already enjoyed a Live in HD showing (actually the performance I attended in-house). Watch for the repeat when it runs on PBS in the coming months.

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The Met recently presented an especially well-cast revival of its Robert Carsen production of “Der Rosenkavalier.” I first saw this when it premiered in 2017, and while I enjoyed the elimination of the powdered wigs in favor of a 1911 setting, I’ve got some reservations now. The cannons in von Faninal’s Vienna town house are a bit much, but over the top honors go instead to the third act set in a brothel (if memory serves the libretto calls for a “disreputable inn” for Ochs’ assignation with Mariandel). While Octavian’s selection of Mariandel’s “look” from a parade of prostitutes is amusing, the tawdriness becomes predictable, not to mention that Octavian and Sophie’s making out on a bed in view of von Faninal and the Marschallin is one big “Why?”

Fortunately the three female leads made the performance I attended just glow. Lise Davidsen, in her role debut as the Marschallin, surprised me with the sensitivity of her portrayal. Samantha Hankey was an excellent Octavian, both vocally and dramatically, and I’d very much like to see her more frequently at the Met in seasons to come. Erin Morley, who may be the best musician among opera singers today, was as always just perfect as Sophie. If I could have asked for more, I would have liked to have seen Matthew Polenzani’s egotistical Italian Singer again, as he autographs his latest record for the Marschallin with a supreme flourish.

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Once of the best Saturday afternoon broadcasts from the Met came several weeks ago with “La Traviata.” Angel Blue made a fabulous Violetta, and the best part of the performance came in the second act, when she was partnered by Artur Rucinski’s Germont. What made this so refreshing was the sound of two artists with beautiful voices playing the scene with such attention to the emotional shifts of their characters’ confrontation, and (surprise!) adhering to the written dynamics of the score. If only more artists would follow their lead.