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Theater review: Even music can't make 'Song of Singapore' a hit

Knockout singers and charming tunes help - but can't save - this broad musical comedy.

By WILLIAM RANDALL BEARD, Special to the Star Tribune

Last update: March 24, 2008 - 8:20 PM

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'SONG OF SINGAPORE'

Who: Book by Alan Katz, with Erik Frandsen, Robert Hipkens, Michael Garin and Paula Lockhart. Music and lyrics by Erik Frandsen, Robert Hipkens, Michael Garin and Paula Lockhart. Directed by Jon Cranney.

When: Irregular schedule through April 13. Returning July 21-Aug 10.

Where: Lowry Theatre, 16 W. Fifth St., St. Paul.

Tickets: $48-$60. 651-290-2290.

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The musical "Song of Singapore," currently running at Actors Theatre of Minnesota, was created by the members of a Cleveland jazz band for their own performance. It's easy to imagine their communal delight at creating the comic piece. If only the audience could have as much fun. Even stellar musical performances cannot save this feeble effort. In a dive bar in 1941 Singapore, a group of Westerners that includes a chanteuse with amnesia must cope with the theft of priceless jewels and a murder on the premises, all as Japanese forces advance. They perform a nightclub show in the midst of the "plot."

Director Jon Cranney describes the show as "the Marx Brothers meet 'Casablanca.' '' But it lacks the wit and intelligence of the former and any of the real mystery and drama of the latter.

This is broad comedy, with many bad jokes that are truly cringe-worthy. The gags about amnesia grow rapidly tiresome. And without even the pretense of a coherent plot to connect to, the end result feels emotionally unsatisfying. The show rises and falls on its songs, which are tuneful and charming homages to styles of the period, from jazz and swing to blues and Gospel. But when the pastiches remind one of more standard songs, it only reinforces how inferior they are to the originals. A Hawaiian number, complete with a man in bad hula drag, is way too cute for its words. Under Anita Ruth's musical direction, the material is treated too seriously. As the chanteuse, Megan Kelly is a knockout. She knows her way around a comedy number as well as a ballad, and demonstrates some great scat singing.

Paul Reyburn contributes a strong tenor. Add Alan Wales and E.J. Subkoviak and you have a strong quartet, supplying some dazzling performances of close harmony. They are backed by an excellent jazz ensemble of piano, trumpet, bass and drums.

If only the show had been content to be a revue. When the singers are called upon to act, their performances are often embarrassingly over-the-top. One character speaks with a strong Brooklyn accent, but when he sings, it disappears.

This is dinner theatre, with a thematically-appropriate Chinese buffet, yet the food is unspectacular. The paper plates and plastic utensils just reinforce what a poor value this event is.

William Randall Beard is a Minneapolis writer.

 
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