Pippin Review – Stephen Schwartz’s Great Songs Still Overshadow the Magician | stage

HeyOnce upon a time, long before Wicked became a musical and two blockbuster films, its writer and lyricist Stephen Schwartz wrote this eccentric picaresque about the troubled son of Holy Roman Emperor Charlemagne. Schwartz was 24 when she had a hit on Broadway in 1972, but many of the evergreen lyrics reveal an old soul. “Cats fit into the windowsill, and children fit into the snow,” notes her eponymous hero. “So why do I feel like I don’t fit in anywhere I go?”

Framing Pippin as a musical staged by a group of traveling players fits this marginal setting well. The stage is sparsely decorated and the arriving cast delivers a ramshackle story conjured from – and always on the verge of vanishing into – thin air, thanks to the tricks of magic consultant Martin T. Hart in a production directed and choreographed by Amanda Noir.

In Roger O. Herson’s book, Pippin is portrayed by a player essaying the role for the first time. Noar heightens the character’s naivete by plucking the lead actor, Louis Edgar, as if from the audience, and being pulled into the show by the tyrannical lead player (Emily Freberg). She casts a spell on him with her brightly colored claws and likewise exerts control over a marionette-like ensemble that exudes alluring mischief in the opener, Magic to Do.

The seductive charm of that song is the watchword for a production that never captures the malevolence prevalent in the music, despite Freberg’s beguiling, stage-haunting performance. The two songs about battle, “War Is Science and Glory,” should be soothing in their farcical theatrics, as should Bob Fosse’s choreography for a routine dubbed the “Manson Trilogy,” a nod to the cult leader’s manipulative powers of control.

The flash of Fosse—the isolated hips and flashing fingers—is often present here, but the dark undercurrent of the time in which Pippin was written is mostly missing, despite costume designer Hannah Danson’s blending of the 1970s with 780 AD. However, the counterculture optimism shines through, especially with Simple Joys – performed with hula hoops flying across the stage – and the gentle protest song Morning Glow, richly rendered by Edgar under Simon Jackson’s golden lighting and backed by musical director Harry Style’s five-piece band.

Traditionally, and largely due to Hirson’s often leaden book, Pippin can be an annoying and overly serious hero in his quest for meaning – character being the main flaw in his story. But Edgar succeeds in making him more of a rebel against his father (Oliver Wood), even if the overall characterization remains somewhat disjointed.

If “Pippin” is the story of a boy turning into a man, one of its highlights is Grandma Berthe (Claire Price) in her rousing single “No Time at All,” sounding younger with every line. Elsewhere, Helena Caldas Fastrada (Pippin’s stepmother) gives us the humble and scheming, and Mia Quimbo makes a strong professional debut as the contrastingly pure Catherine, presenting a life stripped of pomp. There’s plenty of strange magic and simple wonders, even if you miss the evil.