Composer Andrew Lloyd Webber was evidently a good Sunday-school listener. Back in 1967, when he was only 19 years old, he and then-23-year-old Tim Rice collaborated on a 15-minute "pop cantata" for St. Paul's Junior School in London. Over the years, the work that became known as Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat has grown in length and breadth and become a true theatrical staple. The following skewed scripture is for those who need a recap of the Old Testament story according to Webber and Rice, and for those who would like to know what is in store for them in the family-friendly production, now at the Paper Mill Playhouse.
Joseph was a gifted young man -- meaning that he had great-sounding pipes and even greater-looking abs -- who, though greatly loved by his father, was hated by his brothers. Their jealousy was such that they had no qualms about selling him into slavery and then telling their father they feared their brother dead, killed by a lion. To prove this, they showed their father the remnants of the blood-soaked coat of many colors he had made for his most beloved son (but most likely bought from the Ringling Brothers gift shop). Sold to traveling merchants, the young hunk Joseph found a new life among the rock 'n rolling Egyptians. That is, once the pharaoh and his court discovered how good Joseph was at fortune telling. That he was also good for a little roll in the dunes was the discovery of the very sexy and available Mrs. Potiphar. Life gets really good for Joseph, who appears to have lots of time between his dreams to pump iron, flex his muscles, and pose in some spiffy-looking tights and short skirts.
While the Egyptians have the foresight (thanks to Joseph) to store grain in preparation for the coming famine, Joseph's father and brothers, most of whom sing and speak with French accents (except for the one from the West Indies), are starving. Their spirits lift when neighboring cowboys and cowgirls kick up their boots in a fiddle and washboard hoedown. (Richard Stafford's East-meets-West choreography here is a hoot.) We all know hunger produces hallucinations, so it is no surprise to the brothers when they arrive at the court to beg for grain only to find the pharaoh possessed by the spirit of the yet-to-be-born Elvis Presley. And who are they to object to a pom-pom festooned troupe of Texas cheerleaders who have finally gotten their chance to play the palace? Of course Joseph's family doesn't recognize him behind the blinding glitter of his royal regalia. Eventually Joseph, after playing a little practical joke that almost gives his dear old father a stroke, reveals himself to his family and everyone is forgiven. There is just enough time for a quick change into white warm-ups for a little aerobic divertissement - an opportunity for the company to reprise every song the now two-hour show that began as a teenager's 15-minute sketch.
Did I have fun? You bet. Will you? Here are some good reasons why you should: Patrick Cassidy, who has inherited his parents' (Jack Cassidy and Shirley Jones) good looks and voice, plays Joseph. He struts and preens with heroic agility, even if he is upstaged on one occasion by an undulating singing cobra. Patrick's wife in real life, Melissa Hurley Cassidy, plays Potiphar's wife with wild abandon, which I suppose gives their hot extra-marital clinches a G-rating.
Taking center stage, however, is Deborah Gibson, who plays the show's narrator, and who winningly and willingly chaperones the 27 local children who sing, swing, and sway at the corners of the stage. While you may be hard-pressed to understand the lyrics that fly out of Gibson's soaring voice, you won't care once you hear a few of them. The comedy shtick is handed out wholesale by the Osmonds' Second Generation, who appear as Joseph's brothers, and by Adam Williams, as a fuddy-duddy Egyptian butler.
Director Dallett Norris moves the limber cast from the land of the sands to the lips of the Sphinx, as colorfully and irreverently designed by James Fouchard, with a flair for concerted chaos.
Despite the indecently accessible and appealing scores Webber has written with Rice -- Jesus Christ Superstar, Evita -- over the past 30 years (plus Cats and The Phantom of the Opera written without him), he is often unjustly and unconscionably maligned by his peers. Precious few contemporary theater composers are willing to risk writing a melody. Webber is one. This earliest work has innocent charms and beguiling songs, such as "One More Angel in Heaven" and "Any Dream Will Do." It should appeal to adults who are willing to see the show in the light of its moment -- the emerging 1960s rock era -- and through the eyes of the child they will surely take along with them.
