‘The Producers’ @ Lyric Stage
—Martha Heimberg
Bet you didn’t know Hitler’s middle name was Elizabeth—nor that he was descended from a long line of English queens.
I certainly didn’t, until I saw Lyric Stage’s The Producers at Moody Performance Hall Thursday night. And, boy oh boy, do they deliver an old-fashioned laugh-fest with this blowout show within a show.
The bold, energetic 12-member cast directed and choreographed by Brandon Mason, and the big-sounding 14-member orchestra directed by Bruce Greer, heat up the humongous Moody stage and auditorium from the get-go. And that’s saying something.
The award-winning musical company is perfectly suited for staging this 2001 Broadway smash (script by Mel Brooks and Thomas Meehan, music & lyrics by Brooks) that won a dozen Tonys, including a couple for stars Nathan Lane and Matthew Broderick.
Here, B.J. Cleveland plays Max Bialystock, the down-on his-luck Broadway producer, and Brandon Wilhelm is Leo Bloom, his mildly hysterical accountant—clinging hilariously to his hanky-size blankie during panic attacks. Together they scheme to produce the worst flop in history, by bilking little old lady backers out of millions of dollars they won’t have to pay back. Alas, critics and audiences go crazy for the show; they’ve got a sell-out hit on their hands! “Where Did We Go Right?” they moan.
Cleveland is all over the role of the hell-bent producer, gladly grabbing cash by role-playing sexy games ( “the virgin and the well-hung stable boy”) with his white-headed regulars. He bounces all over the stage in “We Can Do It,” the requisite upbeat duet with Wilhelm’s Leo, convincing him to go along with a scheme the accountant himself figured out: how to make big money by losing big.
An accomplished musical theater performer, Cleveland then goes beyond everything I’ve seen him perform in “Betrayal.” There’s a sense of sadness to this song near the end of the show, in which we feel Max mourning his lost friendship with Leo—a surprising turn from a man who earlier defined himself as a happily heartless whore.
Throughout, Wilhelm’s delightful second-banana skills as Leo keep his crazy scenes with Cleveland from total mayhem—well, for the most part. Leo’s hapless crush on Swedish sex-bomb secretary Ulla (played with flaunt-it confidence by Julia Rose Hartman), climaxes in a sex-conquers-terror sequence behind the sofa that explodes in high-flying panties, briefs, shoes and other such civilized encumbrances to the libido’s will. Hartman is not only cleverly funny, but gorgeous. Talk about “beautiful girls wearing nothing but pearls,” as Max likes to sing about show biz.
The linchpin of the plot is, of course, Springtime for Hitler—the worst musical ever written, found in a pile of terrible scripts as Max and Leo search for their money-making flop. They convince the author, a gentle pigeon-keeping nutcase named Franz Liebkind (sweetly sentimental Third-Reicher Jeff Wells), to give them the rights.
Fluttery Roger Debris (Micah Green) is hired as the director, and his svelte, fawning “common-law assistant” Carmen Ghia (Ryan Michael Friedman) agrees to join the team. All Hitler breaks loose as this prancing pair (their doorbell pings out “I Feel Pretty”) threatens to steal the show, but they’ve got lots of high-kicking, attention-grabbing competition throughout the company.
What starts as a Hitler hoedown is plenty funny, but when director Debris must “sub” for the the lead actor at the last minute, things take an eye-popping turn: the drag queen styling he brings to Springtime gets even more laughs and foot-stomping applause than what went before.
Scrims of Broadway vistas (plus desks and furnishings that easily roll on and off) make clever anchors for the semi-staged production—and lighting designer Jason Foster hits the mood mark every time. Tricia Guenther’s outlandishly sexy costumes for both men and women—and nobody seems to care which gender wears which—are a party in themselves, even with armband swastikas wrapped around the sequins. Michael B. Moore’s wigs are terrific, and whoever arranged the walkers for the little old lady dance number was inspired.
Nothing profoundly relevant going on here, thank heaven. Just an exuberant cast perfectly landing the Mel Brooks jokes—and plenty of belly laughs to start the new year.
WHEN: January 11-20, 2024
WHERE: Moody Performance Hall, Dallas Arts District
WEB: lyricstage.org
