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Opined December 20, 2005
A Light in the Piazza - Book by Craig Lucas; music and lyrics by Adam Guettel, based on the novel by
Elizabeth Spencer. Directed by Bartlett Sher; music direction by Ted Sperling
WITH: Victoria Clark (Margaret Johnson), Katie Clarke (Clara Johnson), Aaron Lazar (Fabrizio
Naccarelli), Chris Sarandon (Signor Naccarelli), Michael Berresse (Giuseppe Naccarelli), Sarah Uriarte
Berry (Franca Naccarelli), Patti Cohenour (Signora Naccarelli), Beau Gravitte (Roy Johnson), Felicity
LaFortune (Tour Guide) and Joseph Siravo (Priest).
Sets by Michael Yeargan; Costumes by Catherine Zuber (Doubt, Defiance); Lighting by Christopher
Akerlind (Rabbit Hole, A Touch of the Poet)
At the Vivian Beaumont Theater, Lincoln Center; (212) 239-6200.
Some people don’t like musicals. I do. I mean, I did when I saw Funny Girl back in 1964. That, I thought. THAT
is a musical. Ditto West Side Story. Ditto Fred Astaire moves. These are shows with songs you can hum to and
stories that have a beginning, middle and end.
The Light in the Piazza has none of this. It’s bland and boring and somehow pleasing way more people than it has a
right to.
This the story of a woman who’s daughter was kicked in the head by a pony back, oh about 1940 or so. Now the
woman feels terrible about it, as would you. She feels so terrible that 16 years later, when her daughter is 26 and
beautiful and showing no signs of having been kicked in the head by anything, the mother takes her daughter to
Europe. Specifically to Rome, which is where we meet them. They do a lot of musical oohing and aaahing –
literally – all over the very beautiful streets and piazzas of Rome. There is some actual singing with words matched
up to melodies that sort of fly around filling the air like cotton batting. Suddenly a very attractive young Italian man
sees the girl and falls in love. Ba-da-bing. Ba-da-boom.
After a lot of mushy duet-type singing the mother gets wind of the romance and tries to put an end to the affair
PRONTO --- because her daughter was kicked in the head by a pony and she feels so bad she finally sings to us
about it. Well, the poor Italian guy, ignorant of the pony incident, is so upset he runs home to his well dressed
family and there is a lot of Italian Sturm and Drang flung around with him ending up on his knees reaching high
notes that will click your sinuses into a new rhythm.
The two upset families of the star-crossed lovers meet and the sexy Italian father discovers something is WRONG
with the girl. No no no the mother thinks – not the pony thing again! As a matter of fact it’s not the pony thing, it’s
the daughter’s age. She is 26 and her honey boy is 20. EGADS! American Mom and Italian Poppa decide to go for
a walk and work through this problem while they flirt their asses off. Agreement is reached. Mom has a teeny, but
soaring, aria about love. The kids get married. The end.
Victoria Clarke got the 2004 Tony because she reminds us all of Mary Martin who was a star when musicals were,
well, musicals. Clarke is perky and smart with a voice that goes from character into a soaring soprano. In this show
she is also dressed in one scene after another in flawless 1950 suites with matching pumps, purse, gloves and little
Mamie Eisenhower hats. What’s not to love?
As a matter of fact the entire cast is talented and excellent eye candy. The set is a genius creation of platforms,
sliding walls, and trap doors. But the book is weaker than Bush’s promise to help New Orleans. The songs are
without words half the time and sound like stream of consciousness meets elevator music the other half. I don’t
care what Jonathan Schwartz thinks about it. If people are accepting this as FABULOUS theatre – theatre amnesia is
the next pandemic.