Frederick (Aaron Phillips) reconciles with Rose (Christiana Cole) in Enchanted April.
Enchanted April has been around longer than you think. If you know the title, it’s probably as a 1991 prestige picture, with Joan Plowright, Alfred Molina, and a small cast soaking up the Tuscan sun. But it’s based on an old, old novel by one Elizabeth von Arnim, turned first into a 1925 stage comedy, then a 1935 RKO vehicle that did Ann Harding no favors, then the 1991 remake, then a second, enjoyable stage adaptation by Matthew Barber in 2003. All along, it’s curious nobody saw a musical in it: The lush setting, several love stories, and singable emotions might have been ripe material for, say, a 1954 Lerner and Loewe opus. Which is essentially what the adapters Elizabeth Hansen (book and lyrics) and C. Michael Perry (music and lyrics) have attempted—a radically old-fashioned romantic musical.
Rose and Lotty (Leah Hocking).
Now their attempt, with an An for some reason appended to the title, is on Theatre Row—and it may not be of Lerner and Loewe caliber, but it’s light on its feet and pleasing to the ear. Once again, Lotty (Leah Hocking) and Rose (Christiana Cole) meet unexpectedly in a London ladies’ club of 1922, chat about their unhappy respective marriages to Mellersh (Jim Stanek) and Frederick (Aaron Phillips), notice a newspaper ad for San Salvatore, a Tuscan villa, and plot to rent it and escape the dreadful London April. They’ll need two housemates to afford it, and those two coincidentally turn out to be Frederick’s acquaintance Lady Caroline (Gena Sims), who’s trying to decide whether or not to marry the unseen Lord Darlington, and Mrs. Fisher (Alma Cuervo), a rich widow whose financial interests are sought by Mellersh. Meantime, Briggs (Peter Reid Lambert), the villa’s owner, under the false impression that Rose is a widow, pines after her. And during the sojourn, Francesca (Melody Meeks Putnam), the maid, amusingly curses under her breath in Italian.
That’s the bare bones, but suffice it to say these characters’ histories are a good deal more complex than that. Rose and Frederick, having endured a wartime tragedy, have seen their marriage deteriorate into a polite impasse, while Lotty justifiably feels underappreciated by Mellersh. Lady Caroline, having withdrawn mentally after witnessing the horrors of wartime as a nurse, is haughty and standoffish while trying to figure out who she is, while Mrs. Fisher feels her life is essentially over. And the enchanted April of Tuscany, lo and behold, solves pretty much everyone’s problems, amid much sung soliloquizing and counterpoint.
First things first: The singing is absolutely superb, and, better yet, unmiked, rendering even the complicated contrapuntal vocal passages utterly audible and often beautiful. This isn’t one of the great scores, but it’s agreeably retro (there’s even a genuine overture and entr’acte)—neat, well-rhymed, bountiful with the waltzes, and refreshingly plot- and character-specific. You’ll leave humming, and generously reminded of the ancient pleasures of hearing real voices unaided by elaborate audio engineering.
Gena Sims, an Audra-in-training, is gorgeous with a gorgeous voice, and she makes Lady Caroline’s melting from ice queen to thoughtful aristocrat as plausible as possible. Cole tends to telegraph Rose’s unhappiness in a way that will make you guess ahead of time what she’s unhappy about, but she, too, sings splendidly (and so does Hocking, who milks maximum humor out of Lotty’s flightiness and second-sight ruminations). So, in fact, does everybody, and you’ll love hearing Stanek, Phillips, and Lambert fill out the male vocals, even when what they’re vocalizing about isn’t particularly compelling.
Mellersh (Jim Stanek) charms Mrs. Fisher (Alma Cuervo). Photographs by Carol Rosegg.
The cramped stage at Theatre Row’s Theatre Two doesn’t permit much in the way of visual splendor, or maybe William Armstrong’s sets and lighting just don’t make the most of it, so you’ll have to take on faith all the dialogue about what a magnificent place San Salvatore is. Nor do Matthew Solomon’s costumes place us entirely convincingly in 1922. Alice Jankell’s direction isn’t heavy on subtlety, and while Richard Danley’s musical direction is excellent, it’s unfortunate that the second keyboard is a fake-sounding synth.
An Enchanted April may feel archaic to the few younger folks in the audience—imagine, a new musical without a single disaffected teen singing endlessly about his/her problems—but it’s comfort food, constructed according to the old standards of literate dialogue, literate lyrics, and lush melody supported by chords that resolve naturally into one another. Antiquated? Yes, but in a way that sometimes does approach enchanted.
An Enchanted April plays at Theatre Row (410 W. 42nd St.) through Nov. 16. Evening performances are Wednesday-Saturday at 8 p.m., with matinees on Wednesdays and Saturdays at 2 p.m. For tickets and more information, call (212) 239-6200 or visit enchantedaprilamusical.com.
