The British musical has received its biggest jolt in ages via a most unexpected vehicle. What started out as a one-man show in 2001 has grown into a side-splitting extravaganza satirizing the sleazy American trash-TV show hosted by Jerry Springer (once the mayor of Cincinnati!). The result is Jerry Springer -- The Opera, a raunchy, scatological, foul-mouthed work of intentional tastelessness, with a score that is a pastiche ranging from Bach and Handel to modern country-and-western. One should leave one's intellect at home and just revel in the freakish fetishes on view. Michael Brandon bears a remarkable resemblance to the real Springer and speaks his role throughout. All the other characters sing their parts, and there are many fine voices among them.
As in traditional opera, we are treated to solos, duets, and ensembles. And there is a 22-person chorus that changes its roles, both participating in the action and functioning as an audience stand-in. One of the male guests tells his woman, "I want to be your baby," and strips down to a diaper, into which he enjoys defecating. Another guy cheats on his gal and mistress with a "chick with a dick." You get the idea. The first act ends with the hooded chorus doing a tap-dance number as a bunch of Ku Klux Klansmen, after which a guest shoots Springer.
The second act finds Springer consigned to hell, where we meet Satan, Jesus, Adam and Eve, and the Virgin Mary. Eventually God himself, dressed in white with a silver bejeweled belt, descends on a swing to sing, "It Ain't Easy Bein' Me." The angel Gabriel and archangel Michael pop in periodically, and near the end there is a Busby Berkeley ensemble with big red feathers. As an encore, the company appears as a bunch of Springer clones.
Julian Crouch's sets and Leah Archer's costumes are a delight. Broadway is already beckoning.
