by alun montgomery
To paraphrase Willie Nelson, miracles appear in the smallest of places. Who would think, for instance, that a popular musical hit from the 1970s could enjoy a successful revival treatment in, of all places, the smaller Atlantic Beach Experimental Theater?
Well, the folks at ABET managed to pull such a rabbit out of their hats, once again. The current revival of They’re Playing Our Song is a delightful treatment that proves once again you can breathe life into a dusty old piece.
The fictionalized tale of the romantic and artistic trials and tribulations of songwriters Marvin Hamlisch and Carole Bayer Sager enjoyed some box-office and critical notoriety in the late ‘70s. It’s a thin story; the songs are pleasant but hardly eternal classics, and it’s hard to have a lot of sympathy for two such self-absorbed and neurotic characters.
But in the capable hands of husband-and-wife team Randall and Laura Adkison, the production is utterly charming, providing a palpable sweetness seasoned with a knowing send-up of ‘70s sensibilities.
In my experience, real-life couples hardly ever have successful romantic chemistry on stage. But the Adkisons prove to be a pleasing exception. They’re just adorable, and their self-centered neuroses is actually endearing.
We first meet the couple as they first meet each other, new collaborators on a musical venture that each hopes will boost their respective sales and stature. Wrong notes are sounded in all respects during this first meeting, but a sweet, harmonious chord is also sounded that resonates and sustains despite the dissonance around and between them. It’s the Disco Era, after all: a post-adolescent, post-Vietnam growth spurt that a lot of Boomers remember with a mix of fondness and mortification—and which many of us would rather forget. So our happily hapless lovers can be forgiven their self-absorption and prickliness. Their concentric (and eccentric) orbits pull, warp and propel each other to new highs and lows, each documented in song, of course.
We can all see they should be together, far better than they can themselves. This plot device can often be tiresome if handled less ably; but here, it works. Don’t ask me how; it’s probably because the performers are so damned cute, and there is a knowing wink and a nod to the audience, inviting all to revel in their excruciating memories of that time in our lives.
One of the devices that really makes this story work is the “Greek Chorus” of supporting characters. In their early discussions, Sonia mentions “The Girls,” the voices in her head with whom she mulls over her ideas. And as anyone with an instinct for self-preservation would, Vernon is ready to bolt. It turns out, however, that the girls are really Sonia’s alter-egos, on whom she tries out her harmonies and chord voicings; Vernon has his own “Boys” who fill the same role. They appear in the show’s grander production numbers, the Girls (Leah Cortez, Trish McGavrock, and Daisy Miller) evoke memories of the Little Shop of Horrors’ do-wop girls, and the Boys (Jacksonville theater vets Leonard Alterman and Del Austin) evoke, well, something along the lines of a really trippy cast of Night at the Roxbury. What could have been a tired and embarrassing bit became a gag gamely executed. No one but someone who had lived through it could provide the right touch of irony. It’s a brave and bravura comedic choice, and their brief appearances brought down the house.
Cozily ensconced in Atlantic Beach’s Adele Grage Community Center, ABET holds a distinctive and dubious place of honor in the Jacksonville theater pantheon.
The creative team found very resourceful ways around the staging challenges, most notably in fabricating interchangeable and highly portable set pieces to suggest everything from Vernon’s apartment to a club to a recording studio to a hospital suite to a beach in the Hamptons.
Laura Peden, one of the city’s formost musical theater veterans, turns in a crisp and sparkling performance as musical director, and her trio is right on the money.
There was a moment when I got the impression that the road to opening night might have taken a toll on the performers, when energy seemed to suffer. Hearing afterwards that there had been illness in the cast (an organic admission, not offered as an alibi), I can confidently predict that audiences can expect a show running on all eight cylinders for the rest of the run.
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EU Critic’s Choice Awards
