“What we now call a lesbian,” explains Martin of the latter. Finally, there’s the bride’s booze-swilling chaperone (Beth Leavel), a clumsy lothario (Danny Burstein) and, somewhat arbitrarily, a fly-by aviatrix (Kecia Lewis-Evans). Then there’s a theater producer (Lenny Wolpe) desperate to keep Janet in his show his ditzy, untalented girlfriend (Jennifer Smith), who has her eye on the starring role and two gangsters (Jason and Garth Kravits), posing as pastry chefs. Tottendale (Georgia Engel) her patient butler (Edward Hibbert) and the best man (Eddie Korbich). Also on hand are the absent-minded lady of the house, Mrs. In the make-believe, champagne-and-caviar world, glamorous showgirl Janet Van De Graaff (Sutton Foster) is on the verge of abandoning her career to marry dashing Robert Martin (Troy Britton Johnson). In what is clearly one of many “blue” days, he resorts to his record collection - “Yes, records” - for comfort, selecting the original cast, two-disc recording of forgotten musical comedy “The Drowsy Chaperone.”Īs soon as needle hits vinyl, the flat light in the Man’s characterless apartment takes on a magical glow (the work of lighting designers Ken Billington and Brian Monahan), the bars disappear from the windows, and the room is suddenly populated by figures from the Prohibition-era musical. The tour guide for the show’s nostalgic dip into the past is an unprepossessing theater obsessive in a shapeless cardigan, played by co-writer Martin and named only Man in Chair. The Canadian creative team (Bob Martin and Don McKellar wrote the book) infuses its take on the genre with irony, but the genuine affection behind their simultaneous celebration of it is never in doubt.Īdding directing duties to choreography after shepherding the dancing knights of “Spamalot,” Casey Nicholaw confidently marshals a large cast in a show whose metatheatrical action combines separate and intertwined playing fields, recalling “The Boyfriend.” Helping maintain the buoyancy are the inventive designs of David Gallo (sets) and Gregg Barnes (costumes). Wink-nudge in-jokes are rationed to avoid a condescending air of contemporary superiority. What’s more remarkable, the show’s sufficiently steeped in musical theater lore to tickle aficionados while its charm and laughs never risk shutting out broader auds. But like “The Producers,” this is superior, smartly crafted pastiche and no less entertaining for being so. Sure, the score, by Second City alumni Lisa Lambert and Greg Morrison, is pastiche, and purists can quibble about its period authenticity. A witty valentine from musical theater lovers to the frothy tuners of the 1920s, this refreshing cocktail of a show gets the audience on its side in the opening minutes and keeps them there for the duration.
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