By Ciara LaVelle
By Jose D. Duran
By Kat Bein
By Juan Barquin
By Ciara LaVelle
By George Martinez
By Kat Bein
By Ciara LaVelle
Although the Hollywood Playhouse's lobby boasts an exhibit of yearbooks, photos, and other Brooklyn memorabilia from the time of Meet Me at the Pitkin's Fifties setting, the creators of this musical believe that nostalgia ain't what it used to be. They deliver an infectiously silly sendup of backstage stories and popular music, presented through a revue of parodic lyrics matched to old Yiddish folksongs and Your Hit Parade standards. Loosely structured on the rise to stardom of the fictitious singing group the Pitkin Four, the musical begins at a condo in present-day Boca. There, Elly (Margot Moreland) and her husband Marty (Louis Silvers), along with their old partners in the act, Molly (Heather Jane Rolff) and her mate Phil (Oscar Cheda), learn that Brooklyn's Pitkin movie theater is slated for demolition. The news carries their memories back to the place where they launched their careers, sending Meet Me at the Pitkin in a flashback to post-World War II Brooklyn.
Working at the theater as ushers and projectionists, the four starstruck kids watch the Pitkin's live stage shows between reels, then spend late nights putting together their own act. Of course, there are obstacles: Elly wishes Marty would go back to work in her father's store, and the Yiddish of Irish Catholic Molly needs work. But the act takes off when the gang comes up with the idea of singing witty sendups of the Yiddish songs they heard growing up, as well as of the hits offered up by the Pitkin's headliners. Making fun of Jewish conventions and New York icons, the group wins fame with brief, bouncy numbers such as "Yeshiva" (to the tune of "Fever"), "Blame It on the Cosa Nostra" ("Blame it on the Bossa Nova"), and "The Joint Is Kosher!" ("The Joint Is Jumpin'"). Finally, the musical tastes of the Sixties send the quartet into semi-retirement in Boca, until they gather for one last private reprise in the shuttered Pitkin.
The Yiddish Mickey Rooney/Judy Garland story line soars in the hands of a fresh-faced cast powered by pure chutzpah. Straight from her standout performance as the Spanish-speaking new mother in Summer Shorts '97, Moreland once again proves that talent is the universal language by reaching out across the footlights and belting the Yiddish lyrics with confidence. As her husband, Silvers gives a relaxed and affable performance that fits him as comfortably as Perry Como's sweater. Rolff and Cheda also charm as they move easily between the episodic revue-style musical numbers and the structured backstage plot. And the cast receives plenty of up-tempo support from the four-piece ensemble led by pianist Phil Hinton that, in a rare treat, adds woodwinds (Julianne Purefoy) to the upright bass (Dave Tomasello) and drums (Ken Hebden).
Director Andy Rogow instills a welcome light touch to this feathery revue, keeping the production moving along to the next musical joke without building in unnecessary pauses for the underdeveloped dramatic moments. Similarly, Jamie Cooper's lively choreography is entertaining, and its simplicity mimics the limited moves the Pitkin Four would probably have created.
Gary Waldman, who wrote the book and original lyrics, composed the original music (with Todd Rice and Jon Delfin), designed the production (with Rogow), and co-produced the musical, has come up with a pleasant entertainment but perhaps has limited his creation's potential by spreading himself too thin. After a whirlwind first act, his story drags during an overlong Catskill tribute and a Pitkin Four world tour. With minimal sets and simple costumes, he treats the work's physical demands like the songs he parodies, expecting the audience to make do with only a sketchy frame of reference. On the other hand, two of his original songs, the hummable "Meet Me at the Pitkin" and the touching "I Remember Everything," suggest that this is where his real talent lies.
Like all spoofs, Meet Me at the Pitkin works best if you know the Yiddish songs or the New York landmarks that are being lampooned. The opening-night audience sang along to the folksongs, clapped in time to remembered hits, and even loudly opined "That's true" to bits of dialogue. Most of the material was new to me, however, which only seemed to make the comedy that much fresher and more novel.