They’re Writing Songs of Love in the City of Light

An American in Paris at the Palace Theater

The ensemble of An American in Paris.

            An American in Paris begins with the stark image of a piano against a black stage, shortly to be played by American expat and serviceman Adam Hochberg (Brandon Uranowitz).  After sustaining a leg injury he’s embarrassed to reveal to his kinsfolk at home, Hochberg has taken up composing in 1945 Paris, and quite a few of his tunes sound a good bit like George Gershwin’s.  Come to think of it, his pal Jerry Mulligan (Robert Fairchild) looks, dances, and sings eerily like Gene Kelly, with a Leslie Caron lookalike, Lise Dassin (Leanne Cope), by his side.  And the astonishingly perfect sets (by Bob Crowley, one of the greats) could have been lifted off an MGM soundstage.  All of this is appropriate, for the stage production of American, which has transferred from a hugely successful run at the Theatre du Chatelet in Paris, essentially takes the 1951 film of the same name (directed by Vincente Minnelli and one of the triumphs of the Freed Unit) and plumbs its depths, taking the story to its logical conclusion.  It’s fair to say had George Gershwin survived to write a stage version of An American in Paris, it would look like this—which is to say it would be staggeringly beautiful, gratifyingly ambiguous, technically brilliant, and just the slightest bit empty.

            Credit where credit is due: choreographer Christopher Wheeldon, who performs that function here as well as directing for the first time, has created something of immaculate aesthetic value that will survive for generations.  His ballet choreography (which fills the show almost to bursting, but never tediously) is sublime, and his dramatic instincts are perfect.  He and the librettist Craig Lucas have transformed the underdeveloped intertwining storylines of the film into something deep and significant, a story about sacrifice and artistry and the true nature of love. 

Notably and importantly for a crowd-pleasing musical like this one, certain aspects of the story (like the sexuality of one character and the possible Nazi collaboration of others) are left to the audience to discover for themselves, a wonderful display of respect for viewers’ intelligence.  There are just a couple of places where, glaringly, this mission is not successfully carried out, probably the prime example being the treatment of Jews.  Hochberg and other Jews in the show are shown primarily as lapdogs to be protected, laughed at, or generally left out, much the same way that “nerds” were portrayed in John Hughes’ The Breakfast Club—that is, with a modicum of “all are welcome” respect but an undertone of condescending superiority.  The Jews in this libretto are defined by their ethnicity in a way that, say, George Gershwin never was.  Mr. Uranowitz, as Hochberg, walks with a limp and often threatens to break out, Crutchie-from-Newsies-style, into a cutesie routine emphasizing his urban-ness, just so we know he’s different and isn’t really participating in the love story the rest of the characters are, God forbid.  Oscar Levant, who played Mr. Uranowitz’s role in the film, did a much better job of endowing the character with real humanity, mostly because he didn’t put on the ridiculous Brooklyn accent so common to Jewish World War II soldiers in popular culture (see: Inglourious Basterds), and which Mr. Uranowitz chooses to employ here.  The dialogue, too, can sometimes leave a little to be desired, and not just Hochberg’s.  (Jerry: “Art is really important.”  Lise: “I know.  I’m French.”) 

But really, this is all nitpicking.  An American in Paris is clearly, from the very start, a work of art that unfolds before us in real time.  The dancing is exquisite, and never better than when it’s danced by Mr. Fairchild, whom I heretofore move to cast in every role Gene Kelly ever played.  His fluid, insanely perfect movement, as well as his warbling singing voice and even line phrasing, is identical to Mr. Kelly’s, but he brings an ebullience to the role that Kelly, 39 when the film was made, couldn’t quite match at the time.  Max von Essen, as Henri Baurel (the Georges Guétary role), is also phenomenal, especially in the incredibly staged “I’ll Build a Stairway to Paradise” number, the rightful centerpiece of the film and the musical.  

The score, of course, is universally magnificent and magnificently played.  To compliment Gershwin in discussing this musical goes without saying.  He was and is the greatest composer who has ever lived, and his legacy, along with that of his underrated brother and lyricist Ira, is well-represented here.  Just another way for their songs to live on for generations to come.

If some parts of the transition are rocky, so be it.  Mr. Wheeldon has taken a dated if beautiful movie and made from it one of the most beautiful experiences I’ve ever had in a theater.  If any musical has ever managed to replicate the experience of stepping onto an MGM soundstage and watching Gene Kelly dance by, this is it.  And that’s an experience you’re unlikely to have anywhere else but the Palace Theater for the forseeable future.