Love the sinner but hate the sin is an idea that some church leaders put forth to reconcile Old Testament proscriptions with modern sensibilities. Is this something that also applies to theater, where folks may fancy the music of a beloved classic but recoil from the show itself?
The question bubbles up in "My Fair Lady," the 1956 musical whose Lincoln Center revival tour opened Tuesday at St. Paul's Ordway Center.
"Lady" has a gorgeous score and memorable songs, but one main character belongs in the caveman era. Henry Higgins, the upper crust phonetics professor, sounds like a troglodyte when he insistently sings, "Why Can't a Woman Be More Like a Man?"
In trying to give us a modern explanation for Henry's astringent misogyny, class bias and gruff manners, director Bartlett Sher may have traded one set of challenges for another. His belittling, sneering Henry gestures and speaks hurriedly like someone with severe social anxiety.
That creative choice sharpens the contrast with Eliza Doolittle (Madeline Powell), the Cockney flower girl Henry helps transform from sounding like a "draggle-tailed guttersnipe" to a royal through his speech lessons. But it also makes Henry, played by Jonathan Grunert, more a colorful character than the charismatic leading man that Rex Harrison, Richard Chamberlain and others have shown him to be over the many decades.
And that gap points to the difficulty of putting on some favorite classics in the 21st century. For Eliza is a modern striver keen to develop her potential and make her way in the world. She's eager to learn the lessons from high-born Higgins, who proves himself an overgrown brat.
"My Fair Lady," which takes place in Michael Yeargan's evocative scenography crisply lit by Donald Holder an odd sound mix at Tuesday's opening night performance. Some spoken dialogue evaporated before reaching the audience, including from Higgins and housekeeper Mrs. Pearce (Madeline Brennan). But the sound design by Marc Salzberg and Beth Lake shined during the horse race for "Ascot Gavotte," with the thunderous hooves rounding the auditorium.
Powell soars on her musical numbers, injecting pathos, passion and beauty on "Wouldn't It Be Loverly?" and "I Could've Danced All Night." Her physical transformation is evident in Catherine Zuber's telling costumes, which go from drab tenement rags to a dress that makes her a Cinderella at the ball.
