“9 to 5: The Musical” One-Ups the Movie, and Musical Theatre West Scores a Perfect 10

You knew it had a shot. Rather than being made by Johnnys-come-lately trying to cash in on nostalgia, 9 to 5: The Musical was born of Patricia Resnick, co-author of the original screenplay, and a little ol’ Tennessee gal named Dolly Parton, who’d written the title track and starred with Lily Tomlin and Jane Fonda.

Although Parton herself wasn’t sure she could pull it off, ultimately she succeeded in making “each song to fit each character perfectly and fit the storyline,” while Resnick preserved everything good about the screenplay and added plenty. The end result is a 9 to 5 that easily transcends its source material — and Musical Theatre West makes the most of it.

You probably have at least a hazy recollection of the movie, where a trio of working girls turn the tables on their “sexist egotistical lying hypocritical bigot” of a boss. Parton & Resnick are kinda counting on it. “Well, hey there,” a pre-recorded Parton chirps from a video screen over the opening tick-tick-tick of “9 to 5”. “When I hear that music, it takes me back to a time before computers and cell phones….” This is 1979, she tells us, and if you’re trying not to think of the movie so you can judge the musical on its own merits (don’t think of an elephant, don’t think of an elephant), wait’ll she introduces the character she played: “There’s Doralee. She’s sexy, she’s sweet, she’s . . . Well, oh, you know who she is!”

It’s a risky strategy, but Resnick & Parton have taken so much care to improve the original that the comparison works in the musical’s favor . . . at least if you’ve got three leading ladies who can shine in the shadow of the film’s iconic triumvirate.

That’s no problem for Musical Theatre West. Daebreon Poiema is not a Tomlin type and doesn’t play Violet that way; and director Cynthia Ferrer is savvy enough not saddle Ashley Moniz with all the accoutrements of dowdy that Fonda hid behind, instead letting Moniz play Judy’s diffidence without the clichés. Doralee is the biggest challenge, because the character’s essence is Parton, accent ‘n’ big hair ‘n’ bosoms ‘n’ all. But you sense Madison Claire Parks is perfect as soon as you see her standing beneath the video of the real thing — and everything she does during the next two hours proves you right.

Naturally, things still start off with “9 to 5”, but Parton has transposed the key (you don’t blow the money shot in the first five minutes) and augmented the lyrics so it serves as a typical ensemble show-opener and an effective intro to our heroes. We also get our first glimpse of Resnick & Parton’s add-ons in their handling of Dwayne (Kurt Kemper), Doralee’s good-guy husband. In the film he makes a single brief appearance in the film, but here he shares Doralee’s opening solo, singing his support and showing more later on. It’s not a substantive change, but seeing more of Doralee’s life with her chosen partner gives us a deeper sense of her strength.

But that’s nothing compared to what comes from the creation of Joe (Keith A. Bearden), a 30-something company accountant hoping that 50-something Violet might give him a chance (“Let Love Grow”), even though Violet isn’t sure there’s any eros left in her (“I’m a one-man woman, and my man died”). Thing is, Joe doesn’t have a one-track mind: his main aim to be a friend, and that support becomes a way for Resnik to eradicate the film’s worst deus ex machina.

These aren’t the only ways men (excluding Hart, of course, played with sufficient smarminess by Edward Staudenmayer) fare better in the musical (not that the movie is a man-bashing screed); nonetheless, the women come out the other end stronger than in the film, a neat trick that speaks to the thoughtfulness of Parton & Resnik’s retelling.

Musically, Parton seems like an old pro at making more-than-serviceable music whose main purpose is to propel the plot (e.g., “Around Here”). And although it’s only the title track you’ll walk away humming, there isn’t a clunker in the bunch; and on a few occasions (“Shine Like the Sun”, “Change It”) Parton’s mastery of pop convention tugs on your heartstrings even as you recognize that the beauty is only skin-deep.

Best of all are the songs that imbue the story with deeper dimensionality. “Get Out and Stay Out” is such a natural expression of Judy’s new-found independence (which Moniz projects body and soul) that in retrospect it seems obvious Fonda should’ve broken into song at this point. And Violet’s “One of the Boys” (which Poiema belts and struts like a boss) is a perfect boardroom-equality fantasy despite being a straight-up ripoff of Chicago’s “Roxie”.

For all that, there’s a clear standout number: “Heart to Hart”, Roz’s soulful soliloquy on her unrequited love. Even an average rendering would be delightful, but Chelle Denton is so fucking funny and good that when it’s done you get a dictionary definition of the need for the stage direction, Pause for applause. (The redux in Act Two’s “5 to 9” is pure gravy.)

From start to finish, director Ferrer and choreographer Alexis Carra Girbés don’t take a single misstep. Every moment is blocked and acted to perfection, and the embellishments of the more-than-capable ensemble consistently elevate the proceedings. Witness, for example, the trio of male underlings sinuously embodying Hart’s chauvinism during “Here for You”.

Sorry if all this praise is getting old, but the mise en scène is, er, eminently praiseworthy. Robert A. Kovach’s sets and Julie Ferrin’s sound design provide exactly what’s needed and not a bit more. Meanwhile, Shannon Smith-Regnier has made such strong costume choices that the film seems bland by comparison — and that’s not even taking into account numbers that lack a cinematic counterpart, such as “One of the Boys”, where Violet’s white suit pops under Paul Black’s subtle but strong lighting.

If you know the film at all, you recall the pot-induced fantasy sequence where each woman gives Hart a personalized comeuppance, which is simultaneously droll and bogged down by some weak filmmaking typical of c. 1980 Hollywood. On the Carpenter Center stage, though, the idea lives up to its promise, with each woman shedding her real-world clothes to play out her dream-revenge in a costume apropos of her fantasy’s genre (noir, rodeo, Disney — all delightfully evoked by the entire production team’s seamless cohesion), then moving back to the couch in this new regalia. Don’t overlook the smart symbolism: these “girls” (in the diminishing way Hart means it) are taking their power, becoming women, moving toward a feminist future where they’ve shed the sexist shackles of their workaday reality. “She don’t know it, but her whole life is about to change,” Parton told us while introducing Judy. “Heck, the whole world is about to change.”

A final improvement: whereas the movie loses steam in its last act, 9 to 5: The Musical never falters. The band’s great all night (they’ve never been bad but never better than here; and they send you home with that perfect li’l piece of popcraft), the vocal talent is superior to the original Broadway cast, and Parton & Resnick’s successful efforts to generate a complete musical theatre entertainment that betters its origins are fully realized by Musical Theatre West. See. This. Show.

9 to 5: The Musical at Musical Theatre West
Times: Fri 8pm, Sat 2pm & 8pm, Sun 1pm, plus Feb 16 7:30pm & Feb 19 6pm
The show runs through February 26.
Cost: $20–$125
Details: (562) 856-1999, musical.org
Venue: Carpenter Performing Arts Center (6200 W. Atherton, Long Beach)