Live theater, unsolicited commentary. From Detroit to Lansing.


4.29.2011

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Meadow Brook Theatre gives a whirlwind overview of 1960s London, the epicenter of mod subculture, in Shout! The Mod Musical (created by Phillip George and David Lowenstein, with content by Peter Charles Morris and George, music arranged by Bradley Vieth). As directed by Travis Walter, this amalgamation of stylized scenes, cheeky one-liners, and revealing monologues, bolstered by an enormous songbook, attempts to address the entirety of this decade of unparalleled change from a uniquely female perspective. Its one American and four English ladies are united in meeting the innumerable developments of the age head on, with dawning liberation, self-reliance, and fearlessness.

Putting the “jukebox” in “jukebox musical,” the show shuffles through representative songs and topics to chronicle music, fashion, and other issues relevant to Western women over the course of a revolutionary decade. A loose framework is provided in the form of Shout! The Magazine (personified in voice-over by Robyn Lipnicki as well as Christopher Tefft), of which all five characters are devoted readers. The rag guides much of the action in the form of exposition, fluffy love quizzes, articles heralding new trends and curiosities (like the advent of The Pill), and deliberately antiquated advice by columnist Gwendolyn Holmes (imperiously voiced by Maureen Cook). This last element provides a fantastic device that sets this young generation apart from its predecessors and captures the thrilling feeling of a trailblazing age. These developments are accompanied by a staggering few dozen pop songs, many presented in part or in counterpoint, reflecting a larger effort to fit absolutely everything into this two-hour package.

It would be difficult to pinpoint weaknesses in this well-cast ensemble, which works together as harmoniously as the rainbow color scheme that lends the women their monikers. Yet each has something exemplary to offer, and the ever-shifting scenes give them ample opportunity to show off individually and in groups. As the Orange Girl, Liz Griffith tackles the longest and most definitive story arc, showing an empathetic slide from naiveté to wide-open, desperate tenderness and newfound conviction. Musically, Yellow Girl Renee Turner shines with powerhouse vocals, and Red Girl Charis Vaughn is best when she shakes off artificial awkwardness to sing with total emotional connection, incredibly making it appear effortless. The tarty Green Girl is made the sultry target of many a joke, but Katie Hardy owns the comedy, not once apologizing for the character’s single-minded focus or behavior that is repeatedly slammed by the voice-overs. The era’s sheer effusiveness finds a home in the indomitable exuberance of Allison Hunt, whose Blue Girl throws herself utterly into the stylized exchanges and the mindful precision of Jennifer George-Consiglio’s choreography, a veritable groovy dynamo.

Musical director Daniel Feyer shows equal skill in guiding solo performances, harmonies, medleys, and girl-group backup vocals; he also leads the tight onstage band of three (joined by Jennifer Gale and Nick Matthews). Surrounding the musicians’ dais is the rest of Vincent Mountain’s huge talk-show-meets-variety-show set, providing inexhaustible opportunities for stage pictures to which Reid G. Johnson’s high-contrast lighting design gives further depth and range. Sound design by Mike Duncan layers amplified voices over amplified accompaniment with clarity; the added challenge of prerecorded voice-overs blend seamlessly with the live action. Costume designer Liz Moore uses the strict color designations to her full advantage, using details and trim to unify the initial aesthetic and later branching out to give the women distinct, flattering flair.

This Shout! succeeds in evoking the youth and excitement of popular culture, but its aim to survey an entire decade threatens to overstuff the production and lends it a universally fleeting feel. The show tries to have its cake and eat it, too, by eschewing basic plot, clear relationships, and even names, yet later asking the audience to care about pieced-together snippets of story that ultimately don’t equate to fully realized characters. Regardless, Walter keeps the momentum going; here, completely giving over what just happened in favor of the next thing is an asset to a hodgepodge production that consistently captures the go-go spirit and cutting-edge attitudes that made mod an enduringly contemporary lifestyle.

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