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AIDA
* Palace Theatre, New York City * Music by Elton John * Lyrics by Tim Rice * Book by Linda Woolverton and Robert Falls & David Henry Hwang * Directed by Robert Falls |
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“We must have been lovers in a previous life.” How many times have you heard starry-eyed lovebirds say that? Have you ever noticed how none of them were ever Mongolian yak farmers or Mexican whores but usually nobility like Napoleon or Nefertiti? That kind of romanticism fuels Elton John’s Disney-produced Broadway musical Aida. It begins at the Metropolitan Museum where a crowd of contemporary thirtysomethings, including a couple of Asian lesbians, are inspecting ancient artifacts. An interracial romance blooms, as a black babe (Heather Headley) and a blond Ken doll (Adam Pascal) cruise each other. Suddenly, one of the mummies starts to sing -- that would be Amneris (Sherie Rene Scott), who transports us back to ancient Egypt, where she’s betrothed to Radames (Pascal), a warrior who’s next in line for Pharoah but becomes smitten by a Nubian slave he’s captured who turns out to be Princess Aida (Headley). The whole show is their dreamy fantasy, which may explain why it has all the ethnographic authenticity of, well, a Disney movie. The Egyptian army lopes around to a reggae beat. The Nubian population has a strange predilection for gospel music. And Radames’ father Zoser (John Hickok), the villain of the piece who poisons the Pharoah to get his son on the throne faster, leads a gang of guys dressed right out of The Matrix. Aimed at the audience for Disney’s politically correct cartoons like Mulan and Pocohontas, Aida is staged with all the taste and verve of that dearly departed Oscar show highlight, the Debbie Allen Production Number. Heather Headley has a fantastic voice, but it’s wasted on surprisingly unmemorable Elton John tunes and Tim Rice’s flat-footed lyrics (sample: “We all lead/Such elaborate lives.”). Adam Pascal, who was so sexy in Rent, is stiff here and strains to sound like Michael Bolton. There are a few moments of trashy fun, most of them provided by genius designer Bob Crowley’s sets and costumes, especially on “My Strongest Suit,” an outrageous fashion show set to a Motown beat. And for me the discovery of the evening was Sherie Rene Scott, who wildly camps up Amneris as if she were on Sex and the City but who beautifully underplays the ballads she’s given to sing. Now there’s a voice destined to be reincarnated in better shows than Aida. The Advocate, May 9, 2000 |
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