Warning: Attempt to read property "zones" on null in /home/rln1300/public_html/randomlengthsnews.com/wp-content/plugins/broadstreet/Broadstreet/Vendor/Broadstreet.php on line 273
Groundhog Day is one of the more memorable comedies of the 1990s partly because of its novel premise: nasty weatherman Phil Connor is forced to relive the same February 2 ad infinitum until finally he does it right (ostensibly — we’re left in the dark about how/why the loop starts/ends). But it’s also partly because of Bill Murray, and because (as the great James L. Brooks taught us) adding a dash of pathos really flavors the laughs.
Considering that every goddamn thing has been turned into a musical since its release, Groundhog Day was bound to get a turn, even though no less an authority on the musical form than Stephen Sondheim balked at the idea. “It cannot be improved,” he said in 2008. “It’s perfect the way it is.”
Nonetheless, in 2016 Tim Minchin (music/lyrics) and Danny Rubin (book) took a shot. And now, courtesy of Long Beach Landmark Theatre Company, Groundhog Day: The Musical makes its SoCal debut. And because improvement isn’t necessarily the point (sorry, Stephen), despite being devoid of even a single tune you’ll walk away humming, it’s a thoroughly satisfying — even touching — lark.
Part of that success is on the page. Because Rubin co-wrote the original Groundhog Day screenplay with director Harold Ramis, he understands that yuks aren’t enough if you want to make an impact. Thus, he and Minchin lean into the wistful right from the start and regularly reprise the idea that eventually things will get better. “Tomorrow, there will be sun / But if not tomorrow, perhaps the day after.”
Well, not everything. Although there’s a ton of hokey jokey stuff from the film you’ve long forgotten, I’ll bet you remember Phil Connors trying to save the old homeless man from dying on that February 2, again and again, trying but never succeeding. It’s a poignant idea, but couple it with one of the musical’s best songs (“Night Will Come”), and wow.
This isn’t to imply that Rubin & Minchin go short on yuks, but because on this front the script was bound to fall short of the screenplay (and let’s face it, almost nobody buying a ticket won’t know the film), the show would fall flat if Long Beach Landmark Theatre Company weren’t able to layer in some funny that’s all theirs.
The highlight here is a long sequence near the end of Act 1 starting with “Nobody Cares”, where Phil (Jay Dysart) laments his stuckness to a pair of drunks (Joey Krumbein and Charlie Carlos). Although the conceit of expanding their film roles by giving them a song that fleshes out their backstory is clever in and of itself, the real tickle is getting this tandem show-stopper from a pair of actors we thought were only bit players.
“Nobody Cares” is so good that you’d think there’s no way to keep the momentum, but the ensuing stick-puppet car chase (part and parcel of the mise en scène’s winsome DIY aesthetic) does the job.
Then comes “Strut (Philandering)”, where Phil finds the loop has opened doors for his more ignoble instincts. This may be where director/choreographer Megan O’Toole leaves her most indelible mark. Needless to say, initially establishing Phil’s loop is a relatively simple matter of having everyone around him repeat their lines and blocking verbatim. But once Phil’s attitude changes, O’Toole has everyone around him adapt their repetition as a sort of living objective correlative. Wonderful stuff.
O’Toole is lucky to helm a big cast where even those in the smallest roles fulfill their duties with alacrity. For example, maybe opening night’s biggest laugh was generated by Doug Emslie mugging for a trice before delivering a particular line for the third or fourth time, a wink at the audience showing the actor’s (as opposed to the character’s) consciousness of being stuck in a loop. Hilarious.
Although this is a team win, ya gotta have a strong Phil, and Jay Dysart might’ve won the part on merit even if he weren’t the producer. Especially admirable is his stamina, as from curtain to curtain he brings total energy to whatever the moment requires — comedy, humanity, singing. It’s a task made all the more demanding by the fact that O’Toole’s blocking has Dysart in almost perpetual motion, including during a droll bit of misdirection where he seems to be everywhere at once.
While Minchin’s music may be the least of Groundhog Day: The Musical’s charms, the fact that the most tuneful songs (“Hope”, “Night Will Come”) come after intermission helps us not mind. And while this is not a cast full of technically strong vocalists, most of this material would probably sound odd if it weren’t character-sung. Although there were several mic problems opening night, overall the sound was as about as good as you could hope for a show in a 110-year-old church with an 11-member band (ably led by Curtis Heard) playing their hearts out in the basement.
That above-mentioned church, First Congregational, is indeed a Long Beach landmark (in addition to being a “liberal, progressive” haven “welcoming of all” and “passionately committed to social justice,” God bless ‘em) and a helluva unique place to see a show. Not that that matters if the show sucks. But Groundhog Day: The Musical doesn’t. In fact, it’s far more than mere nostalgia trip. If you can’t find a lot to like here, then you’re doing it wrong.
Groundhog Day: The Musical at Long Beach Landmark Theatre Company
Times: Fri–Sat 7:30pm, Sun 7pm
The show runs through November 17.
Cost: $35–$65
Details: (562) 856-1999, lblandmark.org
Venue: First Congregational Church of Long Beach (241 Cedar Ave., Long Beach)
