A CurtainUp Review
By Elyse Sommer
The official opening of The Capeman adds the third original big musical to the Broadway season -- that's original as opposed to revivals and British imports. It is also the third to give audiences a lavish production without the glitzy pyrotechnics of the smoke and chandelier spectacles. Unlike The Lion King and Ragtime, (see links at end of this review), which evolved from a pre-existing movie and novel respectively, The Capeman's book grew out of the 1959 headline killing of two white teenagers by another teen-ager, a troubled Puerto Rican named Salvador Agron sporting a flashy black and red cape. The musical images, rather than a book or movie, came first and are the threads used to weave docu-drama into popera.
Contrary to all the schadenfreude rumors that accompanied The Capeman's unusually long preview run, this new contender in the Broadway sweepstakes has enough jewels sewn into its cape to make it less a disaster than a concept that's more an illustrated concert than a fully realized musical.
While the show's prime mover, composer-lyricist-author Paul Simon, is said to despise any references to opera, The Capeman despite its blend of salsa, doo-wop, gospel and rock rhythms is very much a modern opera — with a rather amorphous almost sung through libretto. Simon's talent for creating memorable rhythms is in evidence throughout the two hours and twenty minutes and the orchestration by Oscar Hernandez are a far cry from the many gratingly over miked sounds typical of many Broadway musicals. Sitting as I did in the fifth row orchestra brought none of the usual assault on the ears from the pit and stage.
While some songs are more memorable than others the hybrid of styles works beautifully And what singing! Three magnificent singers. Ruben Blades and Marc Anthony as as the older and teen aged Salvador Agron and Ednita Nazario as Salvador's mother Esmeralda make the music soar . While Blades and Anthony are more dynamic singers than actors, Nazario proves herself to be a fine actress and not just a pop star. To give the music and the performers the dramatic setting needed to make it gain altitude as a visually exciting musical drama, there are Bob Crowley's striking and highly original sets —-unfortunately not matched by his costumes — and Wendall K. Harrington's projections which lend solid support to the documentary flavor.
The touch of the Nobel poet (co-lyricist Derek Walcott), while not easily pinpointed, seems most evident in such songs as "Time Is An Ocean" or lines like "when the summer night was torn by the dagger of the moon" in "Sal's Last Song." If those are his images, I leave it to audiences to decide if they conform to his definition of poetry in his 1992 Nobel Prize acceptance speech:
"Poetry, which is perfection's sweat but which must seem as fresh as the raindrops in a statue's brow, combines the natural and the marmoreal; it conjugates both tenses simultaneously . . . "
Though I've tried to ignore much of the tongue clicking that accompanied the show's long gestation period in full view of the gossipy theatrical community, I can't say I arrived at the last preview before the official 1/29 opening without some awareness of the well-publicized last minute "doctoring" done to turn Simon's musical into a cohesive theater piece. Whatever was done by Tony award winning director Jerry Zaks, (not acknowledged as director or show doctor in the program), the first act I saw is narratively clear and clocking in at exactly one hour, well-paced.
The opening numbers set in New York City introduce all the characters and reel you in, as does the flashback to Puerto Rico ten years earlier in 1949. There are also several standout scenes. One of the most impressive images is that of the tenement street with its skewered view of the barely visible patch of sky. The do-wop-y "Satin Summer Nights" which introduces the New York City section is terrific. The confrontation between Esmeralda and Mrs. Young (Cass Morgan) and Mrs. Kresinski (Luba Mason), the mothers of the slain boys, is moving and powerful.
But the first act's polish wears thin in the longer second half, which also has two major missteps.
Sara Ramirez is an attractive performer with a fine voice, but her epistolary romance with the imprisoned Salvador seems sandwiched in for the sake of a few songs and several staged devices that seem unworthy of the rest of the production. The toy Greyhound bus carrying Salvador to his desert love, for example, seems largely a spoof of the little sailing ship in Titanic: The Musical. The rippling cloth to evoke the desert is not quite as objectional but simply lacks the originality of the rest of the staging.
The real romance in this drama is the metaphoric embrace of the redemptive spirit but the the religious images are overwrought and consequently unconvincing. I could have done with less of Saint Lazarus and a more forceful exit for Salvador after his reunion with Esmeralda.
For all its shortcomings, the second act, like the first, is not without its share of potent images and songs. The stark Fishkill Prison is a prime example of the first. Salvador and Esmeralda's concluding songs bring things to a musically if not plot-solid conclusion.
Will The Capeman become one of those enduring landmark musicals destined to break records? I doubt it. Though audiences have proved themselves receptive to gritty musical books about less than heroic characters, the whole does not add up to the potential of its parts. The concert and recording reputations of its creator and the three main performers are likely keep the house filled for some time but not likely a record-breaking run. The F word in the midst of a lyric or in a title will hardly shock the kids likely to come on a school bus, yet some concession to the sensibility of their more straight-laced elders might have insured greater church and public school group sales.