‘Camelot’ Broadway Review: Aaron Sorkin lets his cast do the magic

What is a Camelot without a little magic?

Aaron Sorkin finds an answer to this question in the Lincoln Center Theater’s remake of the 1960 Lerner & Loewe musical, and the result is an adaptation that seems to constantly argue for its own relevance. Value west wing With the transformation of the beloved property, Creator 2018 conjured up some real writing magic Killing a mockingbird In a new, relevant and exciting stage work, this time his efforts often seem strained in their efforts to drag himself Camelot in the 21st century.

in his way Camelotat least as we’ve come to know it, its rough and tumble nature is as much a musical hallmark of the 1960s as the more obvious generation-defining theatrical slogans of the time (“Give me a head with hair!”). Camelotwith his “might for justice” social idealism and proven belief in political heroism, was ripe enough to be singled out by Jacqueline Kennedy as a post-JFK mythmaker, a salve for the walking wounded.

And all with a score that’s both beautiful and mediocre, reminding contemporary audiences that the 1960s weren’t just about the Beatles and Aquarius — Robert Goulet was also there to perform “If Ever I Would Leave You.” Ed Sullivan and seemingly every other variety show of the time.

Sorkin, whose west wing Firmly and amusingly, if not always convincingly, Kennedy-era idealism set in the world of Bill Clinton and George W. Bush does its best Camelot (and Alan Jay Lerner’s clumsy book) in a post-Trump universe reunited with his own mockingbird Director Bartlett Sher was reportedly struck by lightning twice. This is not the case, although there are a few flashes that shed enough light to show us where he went.

On top of Michael Yeargan’s spare set in a cavernous space – a single tall tree becomes the maypole for some slightly rough, vaguely coarse spring dances while projected ghostly vines tell us we’ve entered a haunted forest – this Camelot put an end to any touch of magic – real magic, as in spells and sorcery and witchcraft. Sorkin delicately strips TH White’s medieval fairy tale of what is, after all, a medieval fairy tale. Merlin the Wizard doesn’t do magic here. There is no water nymph Numue (so no “Follow Me”, perhaps the scariest tune in the original score). Ex-wizard Morgan Le Fey is now a scientist and Mordred’s single mother, and those invisible walls that used to keep King Arthur from catching Guenevere and Lancelot in the act have been replaced here with a plain old conspiracy, a false ruse which no one can understand. , let alone every king of England has the right to fall for it.

Admittedly, King is more boyish than authoritative in this story, more pup than lion. Played by Andrew Burnap (a Tony winner for The Legacy), King Arthur is a modern boy through and through, guilty of his abuse of the woman who blossomed him (regardless of the fact that she was a witch, uh, scientist and he was only 15) and determined to do what being made right by both her and Mordred (in this story, the illegitimate son they made). This king even insists on paying what would have been the medieval equivalent of alimony and child support.

Phillipa Soo’s Guenevere is also thoroughly modern (at least until she isn’t) and makes an invaluable contribution to the Age of Enlightenment, guiding a rather unfocused Arthur towards a bold new vision of social justice and goodness in a world where the king and his knights meet at an egalitarian round table, with no cramped old seats to represent hierarchy.

Still, gender conventions are tricky, and Sorkin and Soo’s invented Guenevere – mean and dirty-dancing as she may be – rears its ugly head when Arthur refers to her as his “business partner” (who wouldn’t? It used to be that way something really among crown-bearers).

There is certainly something to do with her transgression – we are offered little to explain Jordan Donica’s sudden attraction to Sir Lancelot, a handsome, vain and, in this context, rather idiotic braggart whose immediate association with the queen as one of prevent this Hate. /love-at-first-sight deals that fueled so many soap opera supercouples. Arthur’s bad choice of words is also a cause for explanation, as is Guenevere and Lance’s common mother tongue – Sorkin took the queen from France to most likely make Arthur’s Act II clear that arranged marriages are slavery by another name.

Just as beautifully sung as this new one Camelot is – and it is, from the expected (Soo’s beautiful “Before I Gaze At You Again”) to the wonderfully surprising (young Trensch steals “The Seven Deadly Virtues” and “Fie On Goodness” with his stirring, powerful voice) – the performance almost submerges the romance with the magic. When Guenevere von Soo Burnaps asks Arthur to describe her relationship with the Attorney General’s “business acquaintances,” we half expect the floppy-haired king to reply, “Besties?”

Equally inexplicable is the queen’s budding romance with the chivalrous French knight. They are both beautiful to look at (Soo is gorgeously dressed in Jennifer Moeller’s deep red and royal blue velvet), but Donica’s Lancelot is so clownishly arrogant that the bedroom shakes – this version leaves no doubt that the deed has been done – looks less so so as inevitable.

When the acting is a little less satisfying than the singing, it is mostly due to the general perception of the performance – a perception that is not unjustified, just more panache and a miss. Again, the cast leading the way are those outside of the whole Amor, especially Trensch, but also Dakin Matthews as Merlin/Pellinore and Marilee Talkington as Morgan Le Fey.

So we can’t imagine how much more attractive it is Camelot would be to give the spells past and future – Merlin, Morgan, the absent Numue – some magic to make. Camelot 2023 leave the impression of being immersed in the fantastic Camelot 1960 is dated excess incompatible with the social commentary that is Sorkin’s specialty. Guenevere insists (and Arthur reluctantly agrees) that removing the sword from this stone was not a magical feat heralding the arrival of a new king, but simply the end result of thousands of previous attempts to loosen things . No divine contrivances, no fate, just the democratic efforts of many.

Well, this is a wise step towards enlightenment, and it is not the only one Camelot take: Sorkin clearly takes pleasure in blurring the chronological flow of the story – Arthur actually refers to life in the Middle Ages – but neither playwright nor director can resist making allusions to the legacy of Arthurian legends after the contemporary imagination. A black-clad Mordred might enter the stage Harry Potter and the Cursed Child not even a backstage pass and Morgan Le Fey’s prediction that science will kick the new century wide will scare off more than a few theatergoers Angels in America scripts.

happy for that Camelot and Lincoln Center audiences, the lack of onstage magic doesn’t affect Frederick Loewe’s score, which is full of songs (the title track, “What Do The Simple Folk Do?”, “I Wonder What The King Is Doing Tonight”) . ?”) loved by some, pleasant enough for the rest of us. The original orchestrations by Robert Russell Bennett and Philip J. Lang, here brought to life by a fine 30-piece orchestra led by music director Kimberly Grigsby, explain much camelit’s lasting appeal.

In fact, the opening moments of the overture received their own applause in the performance judged, the scores may indicate something like this Camelot never really delivers: nostalgia, both for a happy old England and for an American decade when the story had really come a long way.

Title: Camelot
Location: Vivian Beaumont Theater on Broadway at Lincoln Center
Director: Bartlett Sher
A book: Aaron Sorkin, based on the original book by Alan Jay Lerner
Music: Frederick Lowe
main cast: Andrew Burnap, Phillipa Soo, Jordan Donica, Dakin Matthews, Taylor Trensch, Marilee Talkington, with Camden McKinnon, Anthony Michael Lopez, Fergie Philippe, Danny Wolohan
Running time: 2 hours 50 mins (including intermission)