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To call The Fantasticks magnificent might seem like hyperbole; but it also might be misleading, because that word implies something that’s sprawling or expansive. In contrast, there’s something charmingly lower case – almost unassuming – about The Fantasticks, which recasts the oft-bloated art of the American musical as, quite simply, a love poem. Compared to the elephantine approach taken by its Broadway counterparts, The Fantasticks isn’t just minimalist; it’s reductive – you could almost fold it up and put it in a suitcase. As a show, it travels light. And what a long, strange trip it’s been. Based on the French play Les Romanesques (it’s sort of to Les Romanesques what Romeo and Juliet is to West Side Story), The Fantasticks was the creation of composer Harvey Schmidt and lyricist Tom Jones, who met at the University of Texas. The play made its off-Broadway premiere in 1960, and it was time-appropriate in the way its themes fit in with the post-beatnik, pre-hippie zeitgeist. The topic of teenage rebellion (exploited to dramatic effect in 1955’s Rebel Without a Cause) was addressed, if softly; and the elemental aspects of the production design made it, perhaps, the very first green musical.
The Repertory Theater of St. Louis presents The Fantasticks through April 11th; and for those unacquainted with this resilient, long-adored musical, the Rep’s production is a perfect primer. Start with the cast. As the blossoming and insouciant Luisa, who’s entranced with the newness of her own beauty, and that of the world around her, Stella Heath is wonderful. She sings gorgeously; and her voice gets even better at the top of its range. Heath conveys Luisa’s self-captivation without tipping the scales toward vanity. After all, it’s imperative that we like Luisa, even as we laugh at her smitten, giddy observations. As Matt, Cory Michael Smith projects the awkward valiance – and occasional fecklessness – that’s required for his role as the boy next door. And as the lovably pompous Henry, Rep veteran Joneal Joplin is brilliant, coming across at times like Sir John Gielgud doing Don Quixote. The rest of the cast is up to that level; but Brian Sutherland as the Zorro-esque El Gallo – the narrator, who has one boot in and one boot out of the story –comes up short in the charisma department. El Gallo may seem like a cynic, but he’s actually a conniving believer in happy endings. Not fully grasping this, Sutherland’s performance is good but unexceptional; he falls just short of fleshing out The Fantasticks’ only three-dimensional character. As the Mute, the only part that exists completely outside of the story’s snow globe, Sara M. Bruner is unusually emotive. A nice touch is that here she’s slightly punk-rock-looking. Other updates include the ironic (considering the play’s minimalism), if brief, use of cell phones and light sabers. It’s a clever joke. But The Fantasticks’ greatest asset is the timeless music, which is sweet but never treacly. It’s seamlessly woven into the summery fabric of the story, and gets under your skin without being over the top. Songs such as “Try to Remember,” “Soon It’s Gonna Rain” and “They Were You” surpass all but the best of Rogers and Hammerstein. If The Fantasticks (as a play, not production) has any liability, you could make an argument that the characters lack depth and distinction. But that’s not the point of this fable-like masterpiece – it uses stereotypes, tropes and farcical elements to show that once we have something, we can’t want it anymore; and that reverse psychology can be an aphrodisiac.
Jordan Oakes is a local journalist who has written for publications such as St. Louis Magazine and the Christian Science Monitor. He has strong opinions that begin to atrophy if he doesn't exercise his right to express them. Tune in every Wednesday for another installment of Mediatribe - and if you missed last week's post, click here.
