Review: 54 Below Celebrated the Marquis Theater in a Jubilant Night of Song

Bonanzas of Broadway music abound at 54 Below.  Another was presented on March 19: a look back at some productions that played at one theatre.  So, along came 54 Celebrates the Marquis Theatre. 

Revisiting musicals that came to Broadway is kind of a way of life at the nightclub 54 Below itself.  The many presentations there have had themes of scores by particular writers, musicals sharing the same subject matter, evenings dedicated to a single musical, Tony nominees, the ongoing series surveying Broadway’s Greatest Hits, and even the might-have-beens (Broadway Bound: The Shows That Never Came to Broadway).  One theme has been to consider productions that all played the same theatre.  This time around, it’s the one housed in the hotel that bears its name.

The Marquis Theatre’s controversial birth was caused by the lamented deaths of other theatre buildings via the wrecking ball.  Demolished, despite active protests, were the original Helen Hayes Theatre, the Morosco, the Bijou, and remnants of the Gaiety and the Astor (both of which had become movie houses over the years).  This history was referenced early on by the evening’s MC, Patrick Oliver Jones, also host of the podcast Closing Night, and Jane Summerhays, his first guest.  She’d been in the first musical to play the Marquis — a revival of the British hit, Me and My Girl — following her stint in A Chorus Line, playing steps away from the resented noisy and sunlight-killing demolition and construction for the new neighbor. She has a sly, earthy sense of humor that makes the telling sharp and engaging.  Her plot-detailed set-up for the representative sample of Me and My Girl, however, was longer than necessary for the chosen light-hearted number, “You Would If You Could,” but it was done with spirit, with Mr. Jones as her game partner for the duet.  

After that initial book show’s healthy run, closing on New Year’s Eve of 1989, many a Marquis musical was doomed to disappear rather quickly.  The superstitious and cynical might suspect it was karma for the cavalier killing of those other historic buildings, but it also means that there are quite a few potential candidates to choose from for this event  — 31 — including revivals and relocations from other theatres. Of course, not everything could be sampled in one nightclub-length set.  Most got acknowledged with one number, but the decision to double-dip with Thoroughly Modern Millie and The Man of La Mancha (which had a brief revival at the Marquis) took away potential spots from other candidates.  In all, only nine of those musicals were on the bill, plus Paper Moon, which had its title and logo on the marquee of the Marquis, but was canceled.  This interesting choice as a parenthetical pleasure brought on John Bolton, who’d been in the planned transfer, engagingly singing that score’s “Someday, Baby.”  His bittersweet recollections of the dashed Broadway dream were both touching and sigh-worthy.  (He ended up taking a gig in an industrial show singing the praises of fabric on what had been scheduled to be Paper Moon’s opening night.)  He did get to tread the boards of the Marquis with the revival of Damn Yankees, and launched into the good old showstopper “Those Were the Good Old Days,” with its Devil-may-care glee (pun intended for those who know the piece; others are free to Google).  His anecdote about Jerry Lewis as the star with that number was eyebrow-raising in mentions of the voluminous comedy routine added and the voluminous salary he commanded.  

Leah Horowitz could probably give guided tours of the Marquis —  she was in four musicals there in a ten-year period, but the one she sang from was The Woman in White, taking on a number for the role she understudied: a moving rendition of “All for Laura.” Likewise plucking something from her understudy assignment, Lisa Howard excitingly belted the 9 to 5 11 o’clock number, “Get Out and Stay Out.” She also recalled the down-home friendliness and support and baked goods that Dolly Parton brought her first venture in writing for Broadway.  And, happily, she didn’t get out and stay out, but returned to chime in on another number, as well as participating in the group finale of the Annie Get Your Gun anthem “There’s No Business Like Show Business” that was a peppy, if perfunctory, postscript.  A trip to Wonderland brought one of its original cast members, E. Clayton Cornelius, back to his character role, parading the still sassy and grand attitude in “Advice from a Caterpillar.” 

From The Man of La Mancha, we heard songs of the title knight and his squire, sung sturdily by host Jones joined by a cheery, piping Diego Prieto, with the latter soloing on “I Really Like Him." Thoroughly Modern Millie was the other Marquis resident that got two turns at bat: Jonathan Shew strutted through the attitudes in “What Do I Need with Love?” while Nadina Hassan, pinch-hitting with a day’s notice for the (indisposed) announced performer, scored a home run with the score’s gutsy “Gimme, Gimme,”  garnering much applause.  Kate Baldwin had been in the Millie company, pointing to one of the projected photos of the company (she was the one in the orange beret, she told us).  But, instead of tossing her hat in the ring to have her wonderful voice ring out with something from the 2002 Marquis tenant, she asked to leave us with “Could I Leave You?” from Follies, which was fully inhabited, seething and striking.  She remembered attending a production of this emotional musical when she was a teenager and wondering why there were so many older people in the audience crying.  “Now I understand,” she added, pointedly.  

Nissa Kahle accompanied at the piano, handling some of the selections with more assurance than others, but was a graceful presence overall.  

Now, before we close this look at shows that opened and closed at the Marquis, let’s add a post-mortem memory salute to the legacy of the aforementioned old theatres that bit the dust, via a little trivia with a twist of irony… In 1975, a Rodgers & Hart revue played the Hayes, including that songwriting team’s standard “There’s a Small Hotel,” which would NOT describe the grand hotel. A song called “The Hotel Astor” was in a 1906 musical named Seeing New York. The Astor and the Gaiety, after years of live stage productions, became movie theatres.  The Morosco had presented shows for 65 years, but its final production, The Moony Shapiro Songbook, closed on opening night.  (It was more successful with three mountings of plays by Tennessee Williams, author of A Streetcar Named Desire; the theatre was named for writer/producer Oliver Morosco who was killed when he was hit by a streetcar.) 

At the moment, back at the Marquis, they’re recovering from the summer resident show using the oeuvre of Britney Spears and gearing up to ease on down the yellow brick road in April with a revival of The Wiz.

Find more shows at 54 Below and learn where to follow them online by visiting their website.

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