Weekend review roundup

The 39 Steps
Gus Van Sant, Vince Vaughn and Anne Heche, take note. It is possible to recreate Hitchcock without it being an utter travesty. This farcical production, a London transfer presented by Roundabout now playing at the American Airlines Theatre--soon moving to the Cort--reduces the old Hitchcock spy thriller into the hands of a cast of four with tongue-in-cheek reverence that only occasionally seems to overstay its welcome. Charles Edwards is the dashingly handsome hero Richard Hannay, Jennifer Ferrin is the trio of women he charms and Cliff Saunders and Arnie Burton are, well, everyone else. Often four or five people in the same scene, in fact. Watching the actors flawlessly walk the tightrope of bouncing between different hats, purposefully bad accents and minimal props gives the show a kind of magic-show thrill that propels it past what could have, in the wrong hands, seemed like a too-long high school group improv.

Cry-Baby
Mark O'Donnell and Thomas Meehan, take note. It is possible to recreate John Waters without it being, well, "Hairspray." Considering this show is still early in previews, I'll be perhaps overly kind, not speaking so much to specific performances, but I smell trouble. In fact, I'll just point out what is likely to be the fatal problem to this show. "Hairspray," for all its faults, was buoyed around two interesting characters. In "Cry-Baby," however, the most fun characters are peripheral, buoyed around two characters who are bland, bland, bland to the point that they completely fade away during the ensemble numbers (not really the fault of the actors, either). Good-girl Allison and bad-boy Cry-Baby -- he's bad, I guess, because he wears a leather jacket and doesn't sing in barbershop quartet format -- are little-developed beyond expository back-story and as a result are overshadowed by secondary and tertiary characters. It's telling that the highlights of the score, most of which sounds like something thrown together from Jim Jacobs' cut songs, are largely in the hands of cast standout Alli Mauzey, who plays Lenora, a psychotic stalker obsessed with Cry Baby. There are some good points. Harriet Harris is, as usual, a highlight, Rob Ashford's choreography is mostly on-target -- although I'd say lose or cut down the tap-dancing-on-license-plates bit--and there are a few witty moments in the lyrics. Ultimately, though, I see this going more the way of "The Wedding Singer" than the obvious comparison. Considering the reviews "Young Frankenstein" received, it looks like the 2007-2008 season is shaping up to be the year of the sophomore slump.