With Bette Midler playing Dolly Gallagher Levi on Broadway, it is safe to say there isn’t a whiff of the Irish left in the role that is the centerpiece in the beloved musical, Hello Dolly. Not that there ever was much of a Gallic glint invested in the role, although I respectfully refer back to Tovah Feldshuh who added a slight brogue to her portrayal at the Paper Mill Playhouse a decade ago. Midler’s presence apparently doesn’t command an accent or even a discernible characterization given the circumstances and lavish trappings afforded it under the direction of Jerry Zaks. Sadly, it is simply showcase for the also beloved performer to strut, parade, and pander (not too harsh a word) to the multitudes who are there in force at every performance. There is no question that fans will come to worship at the feet of the divine M no matter what she was doing or in this case not doing. This, however, does not excuse certain aspects of the production for not delivering. Many of the basic requirements that insure that a star with a noticeably unsteady (to be kind) voice for singing and with a questionable regard for the character she is playing are missing. For many reasons, I have delayed voicing my opinions that have nothing to do with the almost irrational raves and huzzahs that are being hurled at the 71 year-old performer whom I have loved since her early days singing with Barry Manilow and amongst those “Clams on a Half Shell” and beyond. Having seen numerous Dollys on the stage, including Ethel Merman (who was divine herself at the time singing two songs written especially for her), I am keenly aware of what Midler is supposed to be doing up there on the stage of the Shubert Theater. Except for the stunning gowns she wears designed by Santo Loquasto, there was no real evidence that the world’s most famous matchmaker (not Yenta) on the make had found a way to surface in light of Midler’s purposely but also egregiously self-aggrandizing posturing. Somehow in the back of my mind, I firmly believe that she could have come through with a real and unforgettable character had she had the right director. Zaks wasn’t and she didn’t. The supporting cast generally keeps the faith with the familiar and melodic Jerry Herman score. There is, however, no excuse for the lackluster/what-am-I doing-here performance by the usually terrific David Hyde Pierce who is shockingly miscast as Horace Vandergelder, the miserly bellowing boob who avoids Dolly until he can’t. That he and Midler have no discernible chemistry between them makes their romance a moot point. We can almost forgive such fine performers as Gavin Creel, Kate Baldwin, and the others who, as professionals must, comply with this misguided vision of Dolly as a self-conscious cartoon in a production that encourages unapologetic mugging. Despite Loguasto’s pretty settings, this is not a revival that respects its source. Choreographer Warren Carlyle has, however, effectively filled many of the most cringe-worthy gaps with obligatory bursts of robust dancing. Many of us have fond memories of either Thornton Wilder’s The Matchmaker or the original musical show that Jerry Herman and Michael Stewart created with the collaboration of Gower Champion and starred (almost forever) Carol Channing. Others may have seen any number of regional, college and community theater productions presented around the world. I realize I probably stand notably alone in saying that this lamentable revival does no service to the legacy of Bette Midler as one of the great entertainers of our time. Will she and it sweep all the awards and also win the Tony? You bet!
