Sunday, July 20, 2008
A+E, Theater, Reviews

Do the math

One fun couple and an ‘angry’ ensemble that doesn’t add up

BY BERT OSBORNE
 
Vegas nightclub stars Pete Martel and Keely Stevens are together again in “Pete ’n’ Keely,” an intentionally cheesy revue (written by James Hindman, with songs by Patrick Brady and Mark Waldrop) set during a live ’60s TV variety special that reunites the couple once dubbed “America’s swinging sweethearts.” (They’re fictional, but think Steve Lawrence and Eydie Gorme.) Although they haven’t seen one another since their divorce—as Pete puts it, “Those 12 years of marriage were three of the happiest days of my life”—in no time they rekindle the professional magic, singing all their greatest hits and swapping pithy banter about their careers. They reignite some old personal frictions, too.
 
Director Ricardo Aponte’s infectious Stage Door Players production features artistic director Robert Egizio and the indomitable Marcie Millard, proven vocal dynamos both. Under the music direction of Linda Uzelac (leading a four-piece band), the songs are thoroughly entertaining, even if the skits are hit-or-miss. Millard’s Baby Keely flashback is a bit much, for example, but later she sings the hell out of her “Black Coffee” solo. To paraphrase her description of their ill-fated Shakespearean musical “Tony and Cleo,” “Pete ’n’ Keely” is essentially the sort of show that leaves critics speechless—not very demanding, and yet fun in its own silly fashion (with a nod to Jim Alford’s colorful costumes).
 
Reginald Rose’s “Twelve Angry Men” was written more than a half-century ago. In its original setting—“the present”—it wasn’t uncommon that the murder trial of a “minority” kid might be deliberated by an all-white “jury of his peers” (which is the only way I’ve ever seen the drama performed). But times have changed, and for the purposes of Cynthia Williams’ Renaissance Project staging, it makes logical sense that a “present”-day jury would be more racially, if not sexually, diverse (she casts six black actors, five whites and one Hispanic).
 
Or does it? While the script has been “adapted” (by Sherman Sergel), it hasn’t been updated to sufficiently suit the casting. Juror No. 10, for instance, is a despicable racist—but it’s one thing to believe he’d rant about “those people” and “that element” to a bunch of other white guys, and altogether unbelievable that he’d do so in a room where “his kind” is outnumbered. Never mind that six sound, arguably “angry” black men tolerate him to the extent they do. The shaky concept throws the play off-kilter. (Imagine the possibilities had the director envisioned it about an all-black jury deciding the fate of some white kid!)
 
That’s no disrespect to a serviceable ensemble (with Nykki LaMarr and Marc Anton feasting on the juiciest roles). And it’s ultimately secondary to Williams’ basic design flaw. I remember her sets for “Jitney” and “Two Trains Running” being raised, more at eye level. Here, the jury room is sunken. Getting a full view of the action (around other people in the audience) requires an aerobic workout of sorts—and that’s when the characters are standing, instead of primarily sitting around a table. During a reenactment of the crime, when one of them hits the ground to play the corpse, he all but disappears from sight. SP