Gypsy

Review By: Carey Purcell
CareyPurcell@TheCinemaSource.com

It is Rose's turn, indeed. And not just during the closing song of the show, which happens to have that title. It is Rose's turn the entire night at this production of Gypsy.

Currently playing at the St. James Theater, the latest revival of the famed musical is a heartfelt and heartbreaking production, starring Patti LuPone, who gives a no-holds-barred performance as Rose, the stage mother of the century.

With a book by Mr. Laurents, music by Jule Styne and lyrics by Stephen Sondheim, and based on the memoirs of stripper Gypsy Rose Lee, Gypsy is the story of Rose and her two daughters who she forces into show business with motives that are unclear even to herself. June is the younger of the two, and the star of the shows, supported by her sister Louse who plays the supporting roles, regardless of gender or even species (at one point she happily dons the latter half of a cow to play animal to June's farm girl dance number). Rose spoils and coddles June and frequently reminds Louise that she has no talent, a fact that Louise accepts all too easily.

The trio are joined by their agent Herbie (an excellent Boyd Gaines), who possesses an undying (and at times incomprehensible) devotion to Rose. She frequently promises him that she will marry him as soon as the act is a success. However, with vaudeville acts quickly disappearing, that day proves to be very far away.

Rose's ambitions, she claims, are for her daughter to be a success. She wants to give them fame and fortune, things that she herself never possessed. She clings steadfastly to her belief the act is good; a fact that could easily be disputed. For these reasons, she drags her daughters across the country, searching for their big break. They have never gone to school. They do not even know their own age. For the past several birthdays, they have had only ten candles on their cakes.

It is Rose's steadfast devotion to her daughters that makes her both a sympathetic and horrifying character, and this contradiction is accomplished to Patti LuPone, who gives a show-stopping, rafters-reaching performance as the stage mother of the century. From her first line – the infamous "Sing out, Louise!" to her triumphant strut offstage at the end of the second act, LuPone gives Rose a new, vital, vibrant life that is almost frightening.

As her daughters, Dainty June and Louse, Leigh Ann Larkin and Laura Benanti give performances of undeniable strength and humor. Larkin gives June an unexpected depth and gravity (which comically juxtaposes the ruffled pinafore she is forced to wear the majority her time onstage), and, as Louise, Benanti gives a remarkably understated performance. Her unconditional love for her sister and mother, combined with her steadfast belief that she has no talent, causes Louise to demurely perform whatever is asked of her. She is dutiful and obedient, even when terrified of what is being ...