IT snaps, it crackles, it pops! It surges with a roar, its energy and sheer life undiminished by the years.
I’m talking about Leonard Bernstein’s music, mind you. If there were a Mount Rushmore for Broadway scores, “West Side Story” would be carved front and center. When the “Prologue” blasts out of the pit, it sends an immediate thrill down the audience’s collective spine.
We’ve lived with this sound since 1957 it’s part of our DNA. And for good reason.
The work of Bernstein and lyricist Stephen Sondheim is 75 percent of the reason this often-frustrating revival gets three stars: You can’t underestimate the pleasure of hearing those songs played at full volume by a 30-piece orchestra.
Add Jerome Robbins’ iconic choreography (reproduced here by Joey McKneely), and you have lightning in a bottle.
Yet at least one person thinks the aforementioned elements aren’t the point: Arthur Laurents, who wrote the book back in 1957 and directs this production, has snipped that “the original was about dancing and singing.”
Clearly he thought that not enough attention’s been paid to his own contribution over the years. So he set out to boost the narrative “Romeo and Juliet” transposed to New York gangs in the late 1950s in his revival. Because who wants to see “West Side Story” for the dancing and singing, right?
Perhaps emboldened by last season’s successful revival of “Gypsy,” Laurents made a daring move: He went bilingual. Now, the Puerto Rican Sharks, played by Latinos, deliver many of their lines (translated by “In the Heights” creator Lin-Manuel Miranda) in Spanish. The intent was to adjust the balance with the Jets, who’ve always tended to dominate the proceedings.
It works. Furthermore, regardless of what language they speak, these sharply dressed Sharks come across as smarter, more dignified, more interesting than their rivals, whose dirt-streaked faces and muscular grunts are those of dumb thugs. If Laurents aimed to dramatize prejudice, he’s certainly succeeded.
On the other hand, he’s also (unwittingly?) created a new imbalance that lessens the overall dramatic impact. It doesn’t help that, for the most part, the actors playing the Jets stay grounded while the ones playing the Sharks take off.
This is painfully embodied by the central lovers, Tony and Maria: 21-year-old Argentine cutie Josefina Scaglione does her mighty best but she can achieve only so much, paired as she is with the handsome plank of wood known as Matt Cavenaugh. They may grope each other constantly, but they spark no heat. Worse, his bleaty vibrato and park-and-bark delivery lay waste to “Maria.”
Cody Green barely registers as Tony’s main man, Riff, while George Akram brings determination to Sharks leader Bernardo. In a league of her own is Karen Olivo, who all but steals the show as Anita. She’s not a perfect dancer, but she attacks her role with a convincing mix of vitality and enraged pride; her final scene, when she’s assaulted by the Jets, is simply gut-wrenching.
What do we remember of this production, then? Laurents may not like the answer, but it’s precisely what the original was about: the singing and the dancing. “West Side Story” had not been seen on Broadway in almost three decades. For a new generation to discover it live is almost good enough.