The Frogs: So What's the Problem?

It suddenly hit me about two-thirds of the way into Act II of The Frogs. "Wait a second.", I thought. "Isn't this the part where I'm supposed to be bored out of my mind?" Sure, I read the reviews. I've seen the postings on the theatre chat boards. There was Daniel Davis and Michael Siberry verbally jabbing at each other center stage as George Bernard Shaw and William Shakespeare in a literary grudge match to equal Joe Louis and Max Baer duking it out in the middle of Yankee Stadium. There was Nathan Lane expressing his political agenda with as much subtlety as if he were wearing a t-shirt that said "Bush Sucks!", and I was having a grand old time enjoying some kick-ass musical comedy.

Watching The Frogs is like taking in a re-run of The Ed Sullivan Show without The Great Stone Face there to separate the acts. Imagine if his usual assortment of Borscht Belt comics, "artistic" aerialists from somewhere in Europe, effete stars from the West End, edgy, counterculture stand-ups and classical actors doing recitations were all thrown together and somehow managed to share the stage in a peaceful coexistence. Such a clash of styles usually spells death for a musical, but director/choreographer Susan Stroman seems to have embraced this crazy quilt of a concept, best exemplified by her own dances which can so quickly shift from balletic leaps to buck-and-wings you can almost see the skid marks. When there's hardly any plot, you may as well give 'em variety!

I'm not saying I'd like every Broadway musical to be like The Frogs, but in this era where it's so much more financially feasible to have "the show" be the star of the show, musical theatre too often ignores the vaudevillian side of its roots. Sure, it's wonderful to see actors so immersed in their roles that they become one with their characters, but there's also something to be said for the fun of watching familiar performers doing the kinda stuff we've seen them do over and over again. Some of Broadway's greatest musical comedy stars -- people like Phil Silvers, Bert Lahr and -- yeah, I'll say it -- Ethel Merman spent most of their careers as the same character. They just wore different clothes.

Like we're supposed to believe that's really Dionysos, the Greek God of Drama and Wine, on stage and we're supposed to be emotionally involved in his journey to Hades as he tries to bring a great author back to the mortal world to warn humanity of its self-destructive ways? Hell no, that's Nathan Lane in a toga and we all know it. What's that? He needs a sidekick to play the slave that accompanies him on his journey? ("My name is Xanthias. That's Greek for 'second banana'.") Sound like a job for Roger Bart. Hey, wouldn't it be cool if when they get to Hades they got someone like Peter Bartlett to be Pluto? You get the idea.

And when Stroman brings the titular chorus of frogs on stage (Think Ionesco and you'll get the point.) they better damn well do some of those Susan Stroman flips and tumbles she puts into every show or I'm demanding my money back!

And then there's Stephen Sondheim. Pity the poor man. Nearly any other composer/lyricist contributing this sprightly little score to Broadway would have been given a big pat on the back for providing mindless fun for people with a vocabulary. And yet so many complain when he doesn't provide a score that's dark, complex and guaranteed to make you want to double your weekly therapy sessions. Give the guy a break. He already composed Sweeney Todd and Sunday in the Park With George. If he wants to write a collection of uncomplicated, peppy tunes, a bit lopsided with comedy songs, then I say "Thank you, sir. May I have another?" The jaunty "I Love to Travel" has been stuck in my mind since the curtain went down and I don't care if it never leaves. The lovely ballad, "Ariadne", not only provides a breather from the raucous comedy of Act I but also gives us a much-needed bonding moment for our two travelers. "Dress Big", aside from giving us a chance to see Burke Moses do the type of character he does so well (This time the muscular braggart he plays is called "Herakles".) provides the set-up for the old "clown-tries-to-butch-up" routine, a staple of classic comedy.

Yes, there's politics in the show. And if you're a supporter of George W. Bush you may often feel like the uninvited guest at this cocktail party. But when a great clown such as Nathan Lane, who adapted the book from Bert Shevelove's adaptation of Aristophanes' ancient text, looks to the audience with those sad puppy-dog eyes and asks us to do more that just sit there agreeing with him, there is a touching honesty in his humble belief that art can make a difference in this world.

Sure, it stumbles a bit when it should leap, but an imperfect effort like the The Frogs still provides a far more satisfying musical theatre experience than the most of the perfectly executed, yet emotionally vapid, shows you'll find on Broadway today.

For Michael Dale's "mad adventures of a straight boy living in a gay world" visit dry2olives.com

Photos by Pail Kolnik