'Gypsy' review: Audra McDonald gives a performance for the ages in a knockout revival
NEW YORK – You gotta get a gimmick.
In “Gypsy,” that’s the cheeky mantra of a trio of warworn strippers, who use lights, trumpets and pointe shoes to stand out from the G-stringed throng. But it’s also the modus operandi of many Broadway revivals these days, which can be overly eager to prove that they’re “more than just a mimic” of their well-trodden forebears.
Thankfully, director George C. Wolfe didn’t adhere to the ecdysiasts’ advice. “Gypsy,” which opened Dec. 19 at the newly restored Majestic Theatre, is the smartest kind of revival: one that excavates profound new layers of a classic piece, without plundering the musical of what makes it so fundamentally great.
On the surface, this may seem like a fairly straightforward production of “Gypsy,” which follows the mother of all stage moms, Mama Rose (Audra McDonald), as she ferociously tries to will her daughters, June (Jordan Tyson) and Louise (Joy Woods), into becoming stars. Toni-Leslie James’ costumes are simple yet flattering, while Santo Loquasto’s hand-painted sets vividly capture early 20th century Americana, with faded billboards of smiling white faces touting a richer, more glamorous life.
But in casting a Black actress as Rose for the first time ever on Broadway, the show takes on subtle yet powerful new meaning, despite no changes to Arthur Laurents’ original book. It’s blatant, for instance, that Rose prioritizes the lighter skinned June, in hopes that she might seem more palatable to the predominantly white vaudeville circuit. But when the fed-up June flies the coop, she then slaps a blonde wig on Louise and makes her top banana. (“It makes her look more like …” Rose stammers. “It makes her look more like a star.”)
Through small changes in delivery, other lines take on pointed racial undertones: a white secretary (Mylinda Hull) sneering at Rose and her “tribe,” or Rose thanking God for giving her family “good color.” And in a brilliant stroke of new choreography by Camille A. Brown, Rose tactically swaps out June’s Black backup dancers with a trim young chorus of white men.
With the exception of Bernadette Peters, Rose has historically been portrayed by brash, big-voiced locomotives such as Ethel Merman, Patti LuPone and Bette Midler (in a 1993 TV movie). But McDonald’s Rose is less a steam engine than she is a willful caboose, constantly scheming and sacrificing to support her daughters and afford them better opportunities than she ever had.
Yes, she is frighteningly delusional, and her callous choices still send shocked gasps through the audience, but McDonald grounds the character in a deep well of misplaced love and pain. Rose is a woman who’s been walked out on her entire life, and now she wields her exceedingly polite and sweet demeanor as a means to push ahead. Played with warmth and fragility by McDonald, hers is a Rose who cares too much about her kids, and when she apologizes, you actually believe her.
“Nothin’ wonderful is going to happen to you,” her father (Thomas Silcott) scoffs.
“Maybe not to me,” Rose counters. “But they’re gonna have a marvelous time!”
On paper, McDonald may not seem like an obvious choice for the role, as a classical soprano known for her rich, operatic tone. Her honeyed vocals are gorgeously matched to “Small World” and “You’ll Never Get Away From Me,” Rose’s duets with love interest Herbie (a quietly devastating Danny Burstein). And while she may lack the brass that we’ve come to expect from past Roses, her quavering voice reveals seismic new shades of desperation in showstoppers "Some People" and “Everything’s Coming Up Roses."
As for the 11 o’clock number you’ve all been waiting for: McDonald’s “Rose’s Turn” feels like a once-in-a-lifetime event; the sort of unequivocal theater magic that you one day tell your grandkids about. The six-time Tony Award winner holds nothing back in her tearful, wounded, wild-eyed rendition; a fleeting moment of imagined triumph for the lonely, discarded Rose.
McDonald is surrounded by a phenomenal supporting cast: the searing Tyson and precocious Marley Lianne Gomes, who sparkle as older and younger June; and Lesli Margherita, who makes a meal of her limited stage time as wisecracking stripper Tessie Tura. Woods, too, brings the necessary innocence to Louise, with added moments of depth for the naïve character. You see the seeds of her sensuality blossom in “All I Need is the Girl,” and she imbues “If Momma Was Married” with palpable longing for a life away from the spotlight.
Unfortunately, the production makes a rare misstep in its final 15 minutes, rushing through Louise’s transformation from awkward wallflower to cocksure, celebrity burlesque star Gypsy Rose Lee. Woods at times seems adrift in Brown’s overly busy choreography, and she struggles to match McDonald’s intensity in Louise’s penultimate confrontation with her mother. It’s a scene that should puncture, but barely leaves a bruise.
Even still, it's a small stumble in an otherwise top-to-bottom perfect production. Gangway, world, get off of her runway – everything's coming up Audra.