First things first, Rob McClure is a genuine find, a true Broadway star in the making, perfectly mimicking the classic comedian's early moves with graceful athleticism. The producers are fortunate to have him in the central role, and in turn, McClure doesn't waste a second of his time in the spotlight. I wish the rest of the show lived up to his potential, but it doesn't because the book by Christopher Curtis and Thomas Meehan attempts to cover too much of Chaplin's life and career and ends up shortchanging his legacy with an episodic approach that only hints at what made the legendary performer and filmmaker so great.
Using a storytelling technique similar to "Nine" which has Chaplin surrounded by the key figures in his life like a Greek chorus, the musical starts with his unhappy childhood on the streets of London when his mentally unstable mother performed at a local music hall. It is there he develops his innate talent for pantomime and impersonation. He gets noticed years later by silent comedy impresario Mack Sennett who recruits the young Chaplin to Hollywood where he has a bumpy start in comedy shorts with comedienne Mabel Normand. Inspired by memories of his mother, he invents the Little Tramp as his screen persona (a clever bit in the show very well played out by McClure) - and the rest is history.
Or more accurately, the rest is Act II which explores Chaplin's later years filled with megalomania and multiple marriages finally finding true happiness with Eugene O'Neill's daughter Oona, an aspiring actress who loves Chaplin for all his flaws. But not before he faces the wrath of Hedda Hopper who used his leftist political grandstanding and lascivious love life for fodder in her columns, which ultimately led to his two-decade-plus exile from the U.S. Curtis wrote the music and lyrics, and while serviceable for the plot, for the life of me, I can barely remember a single note, even McClure's dramatic climactic number ("Where Are All the People?") which reveals his singing voice to be on the thin side.
Aside from McClure's star-making turn, Jenn Collela does sharp work as Hopper, including the one song I can remember, "Whatcha Gonna Do?", in which she methodically plots to destroy Chaplin with comical malice. The other performers are good but hardly that memorable, but that has more to do with the truncated book which gives potentially colorful turns by Michael McCormick as the blustery Sennett and Christiane Noll as Chaplin's bewildered mother Hannah short shrift in the story. Erin Mackey, who was charming in her brief numbers in "Sondheim on Sondheim" two years ago, charms again in the blandly colorless role of supportive Oona.
Beowulf Boritt's movable sets and the period costumes by Amy Clark and the late Martin Pakledinaz evoke the period well in shades of black, white and gray, but honestly, the lack of color started to wear me down as the evening trudged along. In fact, the near-death pallor of the make-up on some of the actors' faces, including McClure's, is at times downright creepy. However, the biggest obstacle is really the soggy sentimentality of the book which appears to depend on a string of clichés to keep the story moving forward. Yes, this elaborate show is a disappointment, but it is worth seeing just for McClure's enthusiastic, spot-on tribute. read more