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Let’s
face it, who goes to musical theatre for
plot? And particularly when said plot
involves a lovelorn Caliph and a homeless
poet’s daughter finding true love in the
gardens of Baghdad, circa 1071, and
includes, for comic relief, a cuckolded
Wazir and his lustful wife. Based on a 1911
melodrama, with a musical score adapted from
the work of 19th-century Russian composer,
Alexander Borodin, Kismet opened in 1953,
won six Tonys, including Best Musical as
well as one for its star, Alfred Drake, and
ran for 583 performances.
All of which might, nonetheless, mean very
little to those not versed in musical
theatre, or else born into a post-Eisenhower
America – of whom there seemed to be very
few in attendance at the recent City Center
Encores! revival. No, this was an audience
of theatre cognoscenti, eager to hear again
those Eisenhower-era chart-topping radio
hits “Stranger in Paradise,” “Baubles,
Bangles and Beads,” and “And This Is My
Beloved.” And given that this was the first
revival of Kismet since its adaptation for
Eartha Kitt inTimbuktu, and the opening
night performance of the City Center
Encores! series, and the performance
sold-out, the anticipation was palpable.
Sondheim was in the house, as was former
Citicorp CEO, Sanford Weill, and yes, down
in front, there was, unmistakably, Paul
Newman. Three giants in their own way, and
all three of them waiting for Paul Gemignani
to take the stand for the first time in his
new role of Music Director.
Even during the overture, you could almost
hear the audience humming along. They knew
this score, forward and backward, and they
anticipated every entrance as if it were a
window opening onto a more carefree world –
where Baghdad could be a punch line without
any irony whatsoever. And yet amidst the
misty water-colored memories, this
production, thanks to a stellar cast, stood
on its own. Reprising the comic chemistry
they evinced in Kiss Me, Kate, Brian Stokes
Mitchell and Marin Mazzie imbued their
somewhat-mothballed roles with such zing and
snap, and such perfect diction in their
singing, that even the most strained rhymes
hit their target.
And yet this was a show which belonged to
Marcy Harriell, playing Marsinah, the poet,
Hajj’s, daughter. As soon as she made her
fleet-footed entrance with her winsome
combination of wide-eyed innocence and
flirtatious sauciness, Ms. Harriell captured
the heart and soul of this audience. Her
rendition of “Stranger in Paradise” embodied
perfectly what it feels to be under the
spell of another, without a care in the
world. And when later she sang “And This is
My Beloved,” in her crystal-clear soprano,
the applause and cheers circled the theatre
as she brought down the house. Small wonder
then that at show’s end, the esteemed Mr.
Newman was quickly on his feet when Ms.
Harriell took her bow.
Such were the many virtues of this
production that its quirks and historical
license, as well as the aforementioned plot
contrivances, were easily forgiven. When a
cast includes Elizabeth Parkinson as a
genie, working her seductive and extremely
potent wiles on the audience, without
uttering a single word, and with Lonny Price
as director and John Lee Beatty in charge of
sets, it’s understandable why the majority
of the audience quickly followed Mr.
Newman’s lead.
Whether or not, Kismet travels onward from
here hardly matters, for it was evident that
this night’s audience had once again found
their paradise in their fondly-remembered
oasis just outside of Baghdad.
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