Audra’s Spellbinding Turn in GYPSY — Review

There’s a game I play with myself whenever my mind starts to wander while at a play, movie, funeral, etc. “Would I rather be watching Gypsy?” The 1959 musical, with its glorious music and lyrics by Jule Styne and Stephen Sondheim and arguably the greatest book in musical theatre, by Arthur Laurents, is far and away my favorite – not an uncommon opinion. The plot moves with uncommon vigor and manages to touch upon themes of family, fate, and fortune with Classical profundity, all while delivering classic showtune after showtune from well-realized characters.  

People bring a lot of baggage into Gypsy, as do I, which is why I was hesitant when it was announced Audra McDonald would take on its behemoth lead role of Momma Rose. Her inarguable talents seem to lie in more beautiful characters, not the monstrous belter I’ve previously seen incarnated by Patti LuPone and Imelda Staunton. Witnessing McDonald’s take on the character in a new production, directed by George C. Wolfe, which opened tonight at the newly renovated Majestic Theatre, I did not stop to ask myself if I’d rather be doing anything else. More than meriting a renewal of the opinion that Gypsy is the greatest musical of all time, this production is undoubtedly the greatest musical of the season.

What McDonald and Wolfe have done is bring forth the play that pulses beneath the music. Possibly never before have I been so invested in the story of a stage mother in the 1920s whose daughters grew up to become the successful actress June Havoc and the legendary stripper Gypsy Rose Lee at the cost of their family ties, and her own humanity. This Rose is not a musical comedy steamroller but a woman driven to extremes by the existential triple-bind of being a (Black) mother with dreams in America. Not as obviously monstrous, her prioritizing one daughter over another – and each one’s possible stardom over their own happiness – is less about ruthless momaging than about grasping at a ticket out. There’s still humor and terror in her scheming, but it feels freshly human.

As does McDonald’s vocal performance, which is not to say you’re being sold short of a powerhouse Rose . She is still an electrifying singer, here challenged perhaps like never before into a mix of belting and her classical soprano. Far from the brass associated with the role, she wields her abilities wisely and unforgettably. If you thought the final chorus of “Everything’s Coming Up Roses” could only be done as an all-out belt, as I did, and as the stubborn purists among us still might, there is a pulverizing thrill in hearing McDonald mix her styles to convey the pain in her delusion, not the force of her will, as she prepares to upend her life yet again. My only possible request would be to hold the house lights down for a beat so I could catch my breath afterward.

Race is woven elegantly into this production, informing certain performance beats to mostly interrogate why blondeness (ie whiteness) is held up as the gold standard in entertainment. The star child June (played as an adult by Jordan Tyson, and as her younger self by the phenomenal Marley Gomes or Jade Smith) is here lighter-skinned than her homelier sister, Louise (Joy Woods; Summer Rae Daney or Kyleigh Vickers). A sense of Imitation of Life is thus brought about in the production’s second act, with its backstage melodrama about a mother discarded by a daughter in thrall to the blinding white light of success. And the “Uncle Sam” dance montage that sees the kids’ evolution into overgrown teens performing the same old act, typically staged as a sort of strobe-lit magic trick, is gone, slowed down to show Rose’s gradual whitening of her daughters’ dancers.

Camille A. Brown has devised terrific new choreography for the family’s act, peaking with Kevin Csolak’s “All I Need Is the Girl” and a Josephine Baker inspired strip for Louise. Santo Loquasto’s set and Toni-Leslie James’ costumes are evocative without taking attention from the unfolding first-rate drama and, starting from the overture, Andy Einhorn’s music direction brings the musical’s original orchestrations back to recreate the effect of its momentous first premiere. (There are also a few lines returned to “Small World,” for those who care to hear it.)

Wolfe draws strong thespian performances from each supporting player, especially from Brittney Johnson as Agnes, and Jacob Ming-Trent as Uncle Jocko and the hotel manager Kringelein. Danny Burstein is reliably and heartbreakingly human as Rose’s long-suffering lover and the second-act strippers, fronted by Lesli Margherita’s scene-stealing Tessie Tura and backed by Mylinda Hull and Lili Thomas, bring down the house.

I thought I was a Gypsy purist, ready to disavow a new take on the show and cross my arms at McDonald’s attempts. But maybe to be a purist here is not to hold onto individual entry points into a long-beloved show, but to trust the material, trust the talent, and let the fabulous story – it’s not subtitled A Musical Fable for nothing – do its thing. McDonald’s monumental performance and Wolfe’s intelligent staging make this an essential entry into the revival canon, and a production not to be missed.

Gypsy is in performance at the Majestic Theatre on West 44th Street in New York City. For tickets and more information, visit here.