One Touch of Venus: Kurt Weil Developes a More Sentimental Touch
On Saturday night, March 8, I attended a production of Kurt Weill’s One Touch of Venus at the Boston Conservatory. Before proceeding with this review, I should note that I taught at the Conservatory for many years. Since I left, change has come to the institution in the form of new and renovated performance and classroom spaces, which were inaugurated in the 2010-2011 academic year. The mainstage facility has finally gained an orchestra pit; its proscenium stage was widened and deepened; and the ceiling raised, allowing for a rigging system. Other improvements include a control booth, new lighting, and comfortable seating with excellent sight lines. Conservatory musicals have always attracted a sizable public; now the shows and the students’ talents can be set off to better advantage.
Part of the theatre division’s mission is to train its students in the broad repertory of the American musical theatre. Thus, by the time they graduate, students will have explored a range of styles, both old and new.
Weill’s One Touch of Venus, regarded as “new-fangled” when it debuted almost seventy years ago, seems old-fashioned today. This is not the case, however, with Weill’s even earlier works written in collaboration with Bertolt Brecht. Threepenny Opera and Rise and Fall of the City of Mahagonny are frequent visitors to stages worldwide. Kurt Weill left the hard edge of his compositions behind when he emigrated to the United States and developed a more sentimental, if still somewhat parodic, style that was more salable for mid-twentieth century America . Nonetheless, One Touch of Venus, written in the midst of World War II, is one of his rare works that does not touch upon social or political issues. It became the Broadway hit that Weill wanted, perhaps in part because it was escapist fare.
The plot is a comic variant of the Pygmalion myth. Whitelaw Savory, a rich, pompous connoisseur of modernist art, falls in love with and purchases a classical statue of Venus, despite his aesthetic taste. The statue is inadvertently brought to life by Savory’s barber, Rodney Hatch, and is promptly smitten with him. Venus, living up to her reputation as the goddess of sex, works hard at getting the unwilling Rodney – something of a dullard – into bed with her. Rodney remains blindly committed to his disagreeable fiancée, as Whitelaw Savory unsuccessfully pursues Venus, and he, in turn, is the unknowing object of his secretary’s affections.
While love does not win out, it does not exactly lose. When at long last, Venus seduces Rodney, she discovers his view of the good life is domesticity, complete with a little house in the suburb of
Ozone Heights. He sings his fantasy to her in “Wooden Wedding,” which leads into a ballet where Venus, feeling trapped by marriage, escapes into the world of the gods. It appears that the only earthly reminder of her is the statue returned to Savory’s art gallery. But for a 1940s musical comedy, a happy ending was de rigueur. As Hatch stands in the gallery, a woman, who is a replica of Venus, enters planning to take an art course. The two gaze at each other and walk off into the future together.
The plot of One Touch of Venus does not cohere. In its opening scene, the song “New Art is True Art” implies that one of its themes will be a conflict between modernism and classicism. That idea is quickly dropped, along with Savory’s interest in art. Too many complications muddle the plot further. S.J. Perleman and poet Ogden Nash’s dialogue is written in the slangy, wisecracking fashion familiar to fans of 1940s cinema. Nash’s lyrics fare much better. In the very clever song “How Much I Love You,” the unlovable Whitelaw Savory compares his love to life’s annoyances.
I love you more than a wasp can sting
And more than a hangnail hurts;
I love you more than commercials are a bore
And more than a grapefruit squirts.
Weill’s music is stylistically varied, some of it comic, some, like the show’s hit number “Speak Low,” quite lovely.
The Conservatory production was better sung and danced than acted. Carolyn Miller, an appropriately attractive Venus, sings beautifully and feelingly. Her characterization, however, lacked the earthy fun-loving sexiness indicated by her lines. Miller was too much a distant goddess, figuratively still poised on her pedestal. Shayne Kennon failed to imbue Whitelaw Savory with the exaggerated smooth sophistication the part needs. He was more blustery than cutting in dealing with those he considers beneath him. Edward Tolve was a likable Rodney Hatch, but evinced little passion for either his fiancée or Venus. In general, the actors did not connect with each other on a visceral level, particularly when speaking. Margaret Lamb’s amusing portrayal of the sardonic secretary was the exception.
The chorus’s singing was energetic and tuneful, but needed more work on diction as the lyrics were at times difficult to understand. Michelle Chassé’s choreography was a highlight of the evening. As always in the Conservatory’s musicals, the cast was brimming with enthusiasm.
One Touch of Venus
Music by Kurt Weill
Lyrics by Ogden Nash
Book by S.J. Perelman and Ogden Nash
Directed and Costumes Designed by Stacey Stephens
Conducted by Peter Mansfield
Choreographed by Michelle Chassé
Set Designed by Janie Howland
Lighting Designed by Karen Perlow
Sound Designed by Nick Joyce
Presented at the Boston Conservatory Theatre, Boston, Massachusetts
Carolyn Miller as Venus: Photo: Charles Bandes
Cast
Whitelaw Savory – Shayne Kennedy
Venus – Carolyn Miller
Rodney Hatch – Edward Tolve
Gloria Kramer – Meryn Beckett
Store Manager/Anatolian – Jonathan Stevens
Sam – Sean Jones
Stanley – Stephen Markarian
Mrs. Moats – Emily Grace Smith
Policeman – Jack Scott
Taxi Black – Grant Wallace
Rose – Grace Hardin
Molly Grant – Margaret Lamb
Mrs. Kramer – Hayley Lovgren
Dr. Rook – Pim van Amerongen
Zulvelti – Diego Klock-Perez
Bus Starter/Anatolian – Bradley Gibson
Ensemble – Laura Graczyk, Kathleen LaMagna, Shoba Narayanan, Courtney Arango