The Wonderful Strangeness of THE BAKER’S WIFE Is Back — Review

“You may want to run,” sighs Denise, gazing out from 1935 France and directly into your aching soul. “Or you may want to stay…forever…”

That melancholy ambivalence sits at the heart of Classic Stage Company’s moving revival of The Baker’s Wife, a mid-70s oddity here brought gorgeously to life by director Gordon Greenberg and a near-faultless cast and creative team. 

This peculiar little musical, with music and lyrics by a post-Godspell, pre-Wicked Stephen Schwartz and book by the late Joseph Stein, has a storied history. Plans for Broadway were abandoned following a chaotic 1976 tour. Decades of sporadic creative tinkering followed (not Chess-level chaos, but notable all the same). Meanwhile, Wife’s cult popularity continued to grow—thanks mostly to the audition standard “Meadowlark,” our heroine’s soaring ode to a dear departed bird.

Revisions can only do so much, as the wonderful strangeness of Baker’s Wife is baked into its central premise (no pun intended). Based on a 1936 film, the story centers on the kindly middle-aged baker Aimable Castagnet (Scott Bakula), who arrives in the tiny village of Concorde with young wife Geneviève (Ariana DeBose) in tow. But when Geneviève runs away with young hothead Dominique (Kevin William Paul) and a distraught Aimable stops baking, the hungry townspeople band together to bring Geneviève home. 

Schwartz’s score is a dreamy delight, and a committed DeBose invests each solo with tender, careful uncertainty. Certainly “Meadowlark” is the highlight, and she tears that one up. But quiet jewels fill the evening, all sounding superb despite the space’s acoustic challenges (music direction is by Charlie Alterman, orchestrations by David Cullen, and music coordination by John Miller). 

Greenberg’s smartest move is embracing the piece’s murky morality, rather than fighting against it. No judgment is cast towards Geneviève’s affair. The allure of Dominique’s is understandable, albeit (unsurprisingly) short-lived. Aimable is certainly a good man, but he is also frustratingly naive to the world’s realities. And the townsfolk are all, to a one, caught up in equally messy affairs of the heart. No-one here is pure; no-one is evil. 

(Perhaps with the exception of the callous Barnaby, as played by a viciously mean Manu Narayan. Barany’s put-upon wife, movingly portrayed by Sally Murphy, fairly judges that her situation is uncomplicated—sometimes, you just gotta get out.) 

If the bickering denizens of Concorde often behave unpleasantly, they are far from unpleasant company. Greenberg populates the town with an assemble of off-Broadway royalty, all of them having far too much fun. Nathan Lee Graham chews the scenery as the lascivious Marquis, pronouncing words in ways you never thought imaginable; Arnie Burton furrows his brow and wields a pointer with dandy strictness as the Teacher; and as our guide, Denise, the incomparable Judy Kuhn is on typically heartbreaking form.

DeBose and Bakula struggle when they are not singing, but that’s more of a book problem than anything else. Neither Geneviève nor Aimable ever take form as fully-fledged individuals. But it scarcely matters. Under Greenberg’s precise hand, and on a transporting set by Jason Sherwood, this Baker’s Wife takes flight as a musical meditation on regret, care and love. Was Geneviève right to run? Or should she stay, forever? No answer is offered. It’s a pleasure to just sit and wonder. 

The Baker’s Wife is now in performance at Classic Stage Company. For tickets and more information, visit here.