Review: YOUNG FRANKENSTEIN Makes for a Monster Hit at Pittsburgh CLO

If you're a musical theatre historian, you'll know that one of the ongoing plot threads of the past two decades has been "Mel Brooks tries to make Young Frankenstein work as a musical." The original Broadway production was basically The Producers 2, all elaborate sets, giant choruses, crazy production numbers and novelty props and costumes. But despite the songs being great and the jokes being solid, the Broadway version felt inert, overstuffed. Brooks and crew, including co-librettist Thomas Meehan, have gone back to the show over and over to revise and revive it, always getting ALMOST "there" but not quite. Friends, I am proud to say, I think the Pittsburgh CLO version is "there." Finally, Young Frankenstein feels like it should feel: not a splashy, expensive spectacle, but an almost vaudevillian fusion of musical comedy, sketch comedy and burlesque. It's the "champagne on a beer budget" tone that Brooks and Gene Wilder's divine mix of sophistication and stupidity demands.

When respected scientist Frederick Frankenstein (Dan De Luca) inherits his grandfather's castle in Transylvania, he balks at following in his family's footsteps and becoming a mad scientist. But you can't resist the call of blood forever, and soon he finds himself in grandpa's old lab, aided by the loyalest and horniest lab assistants ever: comely genius Inga (Alex Sheffield), omnisexual oddball Igor (Anthony Marino), and the intimidating Frau Blücher (Theo Allyn). Can the Monster (Tim Hartman) be tamed and integrated into society, or will hanging-happy Inspector Kemp (Daniel Krell) string up monster and creator alike?

Directed and choreographed by Joel Ferrell, with a four piece band music directed by Robert Neumeyer, the CLO Young Frankenstein radically strips down the gigantic original to a cast of seven, juggling roles and quick-changing costumes. It's also been cut down to a convententional two and a half hours with intermission from the infamously long-running original version. The scrappier, stripped-down feel makes the jokes funnier; they're not as burdened with enormous set pieces and overinflated production value like the Broadway production was. The whole thing feels organic and natural: if I hadn't seen the first version, I'd say "there's no way this wasn't what Mel Brooks originally intended!"

Dan De Luca's testy, exasperated Frederick is a master class in making the straight man into the clown: he can go over the top, but he's even funnier when he underplays, bringing out a deadpan or a short-fuse whisper that is even more effective than going into hysterics. He sings beautifully, from the vaudevillian songs in Act 1 to an unexpected rock tenor moment in Act 2. Matching him every step of the way is Anthony Marino as Igor. Like a stop-motion character in real life, all elastic limbs and rubber face, Marino goes wildly over the top but hits the target every time. His Igor sends audiences into hysterics with a shrug or even just a raised eyebrow, and seeing him flirt incorrigably with men, women, animals and inanimate objects quickly became one of the show's best running gags. The Marino/De Luca comedy team is one that I'd love to see in future shows as well; make them the Broderick and Lane of Pittsburgh, please! Playing the straight man to them (and to anyone else onstage) is Daniel Krell, who assumes a wide variety of roles that mostly exist to exasperate Frederick or his creation. Krell's stiff upper lip and wide, expressive eyes make him a perfect foil, even though he is mostly popping up in intermittent cameos.

Theo Allyn, as I've said in these reviews before, has developed a stage persona as one of Pittsburgh's greatest eccentrics; I have seen them take a totally nothing role, like the rich dowager in Anything Goes, and turn it into a wildly funny, unpredictable comic smorgasbord. Allyn does not disappoint here, imbuing Frau Blücher with a laser-sharp comic intensity and a physicality that makes it clear how few boundaries or social niceties the housekeeper still cares to observe. Alex Sheffield is a sacher-torte double treat as Inga, balancing the bubbly, risque demands of burlesque low comedy with the sweeter and more intellectual aspects of a traditional ingenue. It's not every actress who could sell the slapstick double entendres of "Roll in ze Hay" as well as the witty Cole Porter pastiche "Listen to your Heart," but Sheffield thrives in both climates equally aptly. In between these two, we have Susana Cordón as the campy, bitchy, deliriously funny Elizabeth. With the archest Mayfair accent this side of Fraulein Sally Bowles, Cordón swings wildly between a libidinal Broadway belter and a delicate ice queen. She preens, dances, and even banters with the audience, making Elizabeth a clear fan-favorite character; Cordón also stands out in the smaller role of Inspector Kemp's assistant in the angry mob of villagers.

Finally, returning to a role he played a decade ago, we must give praise to Tim Hartman as the Monster. Hartman makes a case for the Monster as one of the greatest physical comedy roles of all time. From the minute he starts to come to life, to the famous "blind hermit" sequence, and of course the vaudeville routine, Hartman plays the Monster not unlike the Tasmanian Devil: a nonverbal force of chaos, but with a distinct animal intelligence and a clear sense of irony. Hartman works every centimeter of his lanky frame and highly flexible face (aided with skull-like makeup that amplifies every contortion and reaction) to great effect. His semi-verbal utterances and mutterings are a treat as well: everything the Monster says with his "abnormal" brain is ALMOST a recognizable non sequitur, but not quite. (At opening night, I was half certain I heard a "Taylor Swift" and a "Joe Biden," but your guess is as good as mine.)

With the ensemble cut, the front row of the audience stands in as a pseudo-ensemble; the actors onstage will banter with them, or hand them props from time to time. It's not quite a Rocky Horror level of immersion and interactivity, but when you add in the audience's prompts to neigh like a horse whenever they hear the word "Blücher," and a few other surprises, I can see this catching on as a yearly Halloween treat. Kudos to CLO for taking the chance on such a radical reimagining of a show: I imagine the demand for licensing of the cabaret edition of Young Frankenstein could quickly surpass demand for the full-sized original. To quote Frederick Frankenstein, "It could work!" And work, it most certainly does.

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