THE MUSIC MAN
With Seán Martinfield

Seán Martinfield
Photo(s) by Luke Thomas

A.C.T's "Happy End" - Beyond belief!

By Seán Martinfield

June 15, 2006

HAPPY END, a music-theatre piece by composer Kurt Weill and with lyrics by Bertolt Brecht, is the final offering of the American Conservatory Theater's 2005-06 season. Since its 1929 Berlin premiere, the work has been described as a "relative failure" and as a "setback" for Brecht. This production sports an adaptation of both lyrics and book by longtime A.C.T. collaborator Michael Feingold. Turning to her opening letter in the program (pressed with an "Opening Night" gold seal), Artistic Director Carey Perloff describes HAPPY END as "remarkable" and credits Mr. Feingold for helping to "resuscitate it for American audiences." Oh, yes - leave it to the Americans and their sense of One-Upmanship! This production of HAPPY END is an unmistakable failure and an absolute setback for San Francisco's theatrical scene. As the production's director, Carey Perloff has proved her skills to be on a par with those of an elevator operator - an increasingly obsolete position.

QUALIFIER: I left at the conclusion of Act One.

After a little less than 50 minutes of sheer torture, there was no reason to stay for Act 2. A suspended electric sign alerting the audience to song titles and predicaments ("a ticklish situation", etc.) finally printed out: INTERMISSION.

"Thank God!" I said to my partner, Tom.

"I'm out of here," he responded. "Stay if you must."

Since 8:05 - given our sustained tension and numbing disbelief, and within a hefty radius of neighbors sitting on their hands and all - it was, admittedly, an enthusiastic exchange.

"Hell, no."

By 8:15, HAPPY END was churning downwards to the first floor of Amateur Land - specifically after a lack-luster rendition of "The Bilbao Song" as rendered by wooden-voiced Sab Shimono (the original "Ito" of Angela Lansbury's MAME), along with equally dull Justin Leath ("Baby Face"), the ineffectual Peter Macon ("Bill Cracker"), and everyone else in this vocally deplorable, musically impotent group (including the ubiquitous Charles Dean) referred to as "the Gang" - all under the feeble baton of Conductor and Music Director Constantine Kitsopoulos. So boring.

Coming in as close Second, the awkward and self-conscious Charlotte Cohn ("Hallelujah Lil") and the forced energy of her seduction scene with Black gangster, "Bill Cracker". Between her colorless, irritating soprano and quivering vibrato came the stupefying lyrics of "The Sailors' Tango". That was a tango? Somebody wake up the doddering Peter Macon! Or, maybe, choreographer John Carrafa.

By contrast, kudos to dominatrix Linda Mugleston as "The Fly". Given the silliness of the script, Ms. Mugleston was way above her material. Nice voice. And a great pair of gams.

I have never been so angry upon leaving the Theater. Better entertainment exists on the Muni platform.

Tom was beaming. "Good news! Our transfers are still valid."

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