Review: GUYS AND DOLLS at Hale Centre Theatre

Guest contributor David Appleford gives the glow to Hale Centre Theatre’s production of GUYS AND DOLLS.

There’s something almost miraculous about GUYS AND DOLLS, a musical that clicks like a well-oiled roulette wheel and sings with the slangy poetry of a New York that never quite existed but one you’re sure probably did. That this American musical comedy is still cracking wise after all these years is no surprise; that it's doing it with this much panache is the real fun.

Hale Centre Theatre’s revival in Gilbert is directed and choreographed with brassy verve by Cambrian James in a theatre-in-the-round staging. A painted NYC skyline, splashed with abstract neon Broadway signage, decorates the side walls of the house like a Deco dreamscape. It’s a fantasy version of New York where morality is merely a theory and the streets are always paved with another opportunity to place a bet.

Since its Broadway debut in 1950, where it ran a triumphant 1,200 performances and nabbed the Tony for Best Musical, GUYS AND DOLLS has become one of those rare shows that feels like it’s always waiting for someone to roll the dice once again and raise the curtain on a new production. With each revival and reimagining, from London to Lincoln Center, to the glossy 1955 film with Sinatra, Brando, and Jean Simmons, the musical proves itself time and again.

The show begins not with a single character but with a city, one that’s both pulsing and comic, and definitely alive. Street-corner gamblers argue and sing about which horse “can do.” Salvation Army styled crusaders belt out their call for redemption. And weaving through it all is Nathan Detroit (Raymond Barcelo), a likeable schemer trying to find a new home for his illegal craps game without getting collared by the dogged Lieutenant Brannigan (Justin Howell).

Nathan’s plan to raise much-needed money to finance his next underground game is to win it in a gamble, placing money he doesn’t have on what he believes is a sure thing. He bets high-roller Sky Masterson (Austin Delp) a thousand bucks that the gambler can’t convince a straight-laced missionary, the virtuous Sister Sarah Brown (Gracie Gamble) to fly to Havana with him for drinks and dinner.

The source for these colorful characters was Damon Runyon, the literary bartender of Prohibition-era New York whose short stories poured out gangsters and gamblers who never met a bet they didn’t like or a dame they could understand. His was a world of high-stakes charm and low-rent dreams, written in a peculiar grammar school formality where the speech patterns of the streetwise gamblers were void of verbal contractions. It dressed up street slang in a way that could be understood by everyone.

Frank Loesser, the Hollywood lyricist with a genius for turning wisecracks into showstoppers, was roped in to score the show. And what a score. These songs don’t just get under your skin, for most musical theater devotees they’ve been living in the bloodstream since birth. Songs like Luck Be A Lady, A Bushel and a Peck, and If I Were a Bell come at you like old friends who can still drink you under the table. But it’s the company you keep here at Hale that makes the difference. This is a rowdy ensemble, committed to making every wisecrack and love note count with an unstoppable energy.

Barcelo gives Nathan Detroit the twitchy hustle of a man whose best idea is always just out of reach, while Brie Wadsworth-Gates’s Adelaide, Nathan’s better half, is all rhinestone heartache. She’s a dizzy dame with a nasal whine and perfect comic timing. You can almost see the ghost of Vivian Blaine, Broadway’s original Adelaide from the fifties, nodding in approval. And as Sky and Sarah, both Delp and Gamble play their scenes together straight, a romantic ballast in a sea of gambling-addled mayhem.

Then there’s the side characters, dripping with that Runyonesque patter and attitude. Teddy Ladley‘s Nicely-Nicely Johnson is pure vaudeville. Trevon Powell’s Big Jule (the ‘e’ is pronounced) is played as a thug with the delivery of a stand-up comic. Director James wisely lets the whole gambling ensemble play it big. These are cartoons with soul.

But then comes Sit Down, You’re Rockin’ the Boat, the show’s late-breaking thunderbolt of joy. Ladley launches it with the giddy fervor of a man testifying in a jazzed-up gospel tent, and the number goes off like a confetti cannon. It’s the kind of song that makes you forget you’re sitting in a theater and tempts you to stand up and join the congregation.

For contemporary audiences new to the show, some of its attitudes toward women and romance may prompt a raised eyebrow. Adelaide’s central dilemma—enduring a fourteen-year engagement in the hope that persistence will eventually secure marriage—belongs unmistakably to another era. Sister Sarah’s storyline has likewise drawn modern scrutiny, particularly the notion of her virtue being wagered as part of a bet, and an arc that sees her fall in love after an unintended night of intoxication. Viewed through a present-day lens, these elements can feel dated. Yet, even with those caveats, GUYS AND DOLLS remains rightly regarded as a model of musical comedy construction and a cornerstone of Broadway’s Golden Age, its wit, score, and craftsmanship continuing to outweigh the social assumptions and limitations of its time.

Smartly tailored to its theatre-in-the-round setting, where direction is less about composition than circulation, this Hale Centre Theatre production shows a keen understanding of the rules of arena staging. James’s direction and choreography keep the actors in near-constant motion, mindful that at some point someone’s back will always be turned to part of the audience. He subtly redistributes focus through continual, motivated movement, ensuring no section is ignored for long. Each turn, cross, or pause creates a fluid sense of motion that keeps all sides of the house equally engaged without ever calling attention to the mechanics behind it.

As a point of interest, Jo Swerling’s original book didn’t have the snap or the snarl the producers were looking for. So, they handed the typewriter to Abe Burrows, a radio comedy writer who knew how to make dialogue swing.  Even though credits always state ‘Book by Abe Burrows and Jo Swerling,’ none of what you hear is of Swerling’s doing.  It was his contract that insisted even if the show never used a word of his original script, he was still to be included in the writing credits.

Mounted with this much in-the-round polish and flair, Hale Centre Theatre’s GUYS AND DOLLS conjures that impossible New York once again, the one that never quite existed. It’s bright, brassy, and built on rhythm. And for a few hours in Gilbert, the neon-drenched skyline glows, the dice roll, and Broadway’s Golden Age feels very much alive.

GUYS AND DOLLS runs through March 28th at:

Hale Centre Theatre -- https://www.haletheatrearizona.com/ -- 50 W Page Avenue, Gilbert, AZ -- 480-497-1181

Graphic credit to Hale Centre Theatre