A Boston double-shot of Gershwin musicals proves timely and delightful
Though he was a New Yorker who spent his last year in Hollywood, George Gershwin and Boston have an important history. In 1935, his only opera, Porgy and Bess, premiered at what is now the Emerson Colonial Theatre. Eleven years earlier, on a train into town, he began writing what became the Rhapsody in Blue. Though the transition from Boston Pops standard to BSO subscription series regular took longer than it should have, Gershwin’s music has been no stranger at Symphony Hall, either.
What has been harder to come by of late, and not just locally, are performances of Gershwin’s musicals. Though many of the early ones are light on plot, later efforts aspired to more.
In fact, several of them fully warrant attention, particularly the triptych of political satires Gershwin cooked up with his lyricist brother, Ira, and book writers George S. Kaufman and Morrie Ryskind. Composed between 1927 and 1933, Strike Up the Band, Of Thee I Sing, and Let ‘em Eat Cake offer surprising, and sometimes unsettling, parallels with forces still at work in American society.
On Saturday night, Gil Rose led Odyssey Opera and the Boston Modern Orchestra Project in semi-staged performances of the last two at Jordan Hall. Whether or not the production was aiming to make a big statement in the closing weeks of a divisive election year, the event offered more than just great tunes and clever wordplay.
The first of this weekend’s pair, Of Thee I Sing, caused quite the stir when it opened at Broadway’s Music Box Theater in December 1931. Playing for over 400 performances, it was both the longest-running musical of the ‘30s and the first to snag a Pulitzer Prize—though, ironically, for its book, not its score.
A gleeful sendup of American presidential politics, the show follows the vapid politico John P. Wintergreen. Hoping to campaign on “something that interests everyone and doesn’t matter a damn,” his handlers set him up to run on a “love” platform involving a beauty pageant. Predictably enough, Wintergreen mucks up the effort by falling for the spectacle’s coordinator instead of the winner he’s contractually obligated to woo and marry.
The ensuing scandal threatens to become an international incident when the snubbed lady claims French descent and involves that country in her lawsuit. The menace of impeachment and war, the birth of twins, and a Supreme Court that prefers corn muffins to justice follow. Ultimately, a happy solution presents itself in the form of Wintergreen’s forgettable vice president, Alexander Throttlebottom.
In the 1933 sequel, Let ‘em Eat Cake, the tone is unquestionably darker.
Wintergreen and Throttlebottom, having lost their reelection bid to one John P. Tweedledee, go into the shirt-selling business. Taking his cues from a firebrand named Kruger, as well as the rise of black and brown shirted thugs across the Atlantic, Wintergreen hits on the idea of an overthrow of the American government by his “Blue Shirts.”
This happens, though the revolution doesn’t go according to plan and, after a disastrous baseball game and his near execution, he decides to leave politics for good. The republic is restored, with the doltish Throttlebottom now installed in the White House.
Daffy? Absolutely. Riddled with corny jokes and cheesy punchlines? You bet. Structurally diffuse and unwieldy? That, too, especially Let ‘em Eat Cake. But even though neither work quite rises to the level of Veep, both remain timely.
And, though each offers scenarios that border on the inane, they’re kept from devolving into pure farce by the unique combination of George’s inventive, often effervescent, music and Ira’s snappy lyrics. Only the latter would come up with a line like “Who cares what banks fail in Yonkers/long as you’ve got a kiss that conquers”—and only the former could set it unforgettably.
Saturday’s performance leaned into the considerable musical and comedic strengths of both shows, in the process making a very long night at Jordan – three hours with one intermission – pass by reasonably quickly. A handful of small cuts helped move things along, too, though these also somewhat undercut Let ‘em Eat Cake’s denouement.
Nevertheless, the night’s big takeaways were the sophistication of Gershwin’s musical language and the sheer delight all hands onstage and in the seats got out of a couple of ninety-plus-year-old musicals.
Of course, when you’ve got the parade of hits on offer in these two scores—“Love is Sweeping the Country,” “Of Thee I Sing,” and “Who Cares?” in Of Thee I Sing; “Mine” and the title song in Let ‘em Eat Cake—the delight is likely ensured. The evening’s cast certainly embraced them, even as the vocal quality of most of the leads veered into operatic territory more frequently than one prefers for this fare.
Even so, Aaron Engebreth’s Wintergreen exhibited the requisite strength and obliviousness of his part, as well as good timing in Of Thee I Sing’s closing scene. As his wife, Mary, Heather Buck exuded sympathy, grace, and, at the end of Let ‘em Eat Cake, steely wiles.
Abigail Paschke took some time to find her footing as the wronged beauty pageant queen, Diana Devereaux, but by the time Act 2’s “Jilted” rolled around, she had hit her stride. That carried into her account of Let ‘em Eat Cake’s Trixie. Though a smaller part, Paschke made the most of it, especially in her “First Lady and First Gent” duet with Neal Ferreira’s Kruger (which included a deft soft shoe routine).
For his part, Ferreira was winningly hammy as Of Thee I Sing’s French ambassador—his “Illegitimate daughter” number was a riot—and fittingly menacing as Let ‘em Eat Cake’s Kruger. Steven Goldstein’s banana-chomping Throttlebottom was the picture of daffy obliviousness, while Matthew DiBattista’s General Snookfield blustered like George C. Scott’s General Turgidson in Dr. Strangelove. Ethan DePuy filled various small roles with gusto.
Matthew Arnold, Thomas Oesterling, Allyn McCourt, Brendan Buckley, and Davron Monroe formed Wintergreen’s vocally well-balanced inner circle. Alan Schneider was a sympathetic Tweedledee.
Though their first entrance resulted in a few boos from one section of the house, the members of the Supreme Court led by David Small’s Chief Justice sang well. Julianne DeRouin’s sign bearer ably kept the audience apprised of each show’s various shifting scenes.
From the podium, Rose led brisk readings of both scores and ensured that balances were generally clear. Though there were inevitable coordination hiccups and a few erratic entrances in this single-night double-bill, the production’s larger sense of style was assured.
Anchoring BMOP were concertmaster Gabriela Diaz’s winsome violin solos and percussionist Robert Schulz’s exceptional realization of the drum kit part. The ensemble’s bluesy introduction to Let ‘em Eat Cake’s last scene had just about all the gritty swagger one could ask for.
For their part, the Odyssey Opera Chorus sang with crisp energy and pure tone. Though the lack of supertitles meant that some of the night’s lyrics were lost to muddy diction or thick textures, the group’s confidence and brio often compensated.
Odyssey Opera presents Mark Adamo’s Lysistrata at 7:30 p.m. February 15, 2025 at Jordan Hall. odysseyopera.org
