While appearing on “The View” talk show, Patti LuPone described Sunset Boulevard (or Blvd. as it is titled in the current Broadway revival) as a “lumbering” musical. LuPone originated the role of Norma Desmond in London in 1993 for this adaptation of Billy Wilder’s 1950 film classic and was subsequently replaced by Glenn Close for the Broadway premiere. The “lumbering” adjective is an accurate description of Trevor Nunn’s original staging of this mammoth show which heretofore has mainly been a vehicle for whoever played the leading role of a faded, mad silent film star desperate for a comeback.
Lonny Price’s 2017 revival, also starring Close in a totally different performance, stripped down the elaborate set and got closer to the raw emotions of Don Black and Christopher Hampton’s book. Andrew Lloyd Webber’s symphonic music which captures the creamy film-score style of Hollywood’s Golden Age and the snappy, pop-jazz of the 1950s, also emerged more vibrantly. Jamie Lloyd’s inventive, multi-media production, now at the St. James after winning several Olivier Awards in the West End, goes even further than Price’s and makes Lloyd and the production itself the real stars.
To be sure, former Pussycat Doll Nicole Scherzinger delivers an electric, galvanizing performance as Norma, but Lloyd’s staging is so fresh, startling and gripping, he deserves equal praise. Eliminating conventional scenery and props, the action takes place on a mostly bare stage apart from a few chairs and a giant screen. Jack Knowles’ noirish lighting design creates the proper shadowy atmosphere. Costume designer Sutra Gimour who also designed the starkly minimalist set, has dressed the company in black and white to evoke the monochromatic tones of the original film and the noir efforts of its era. Cast members with cameras and lighting equipment intermittently film the principals and their images are simultaneously projected on the screen. (Nathan Amzi and Joe Ransom are credited with the impressive video and projection design.) There are even opening and closing credits, just like in the movies.
The story of underemployed screenwriter Joe Gillis (sexy, vital Tom Francis) falling under the vampish spell of the deluded Desmond becomes a harsh critique of the intoxicating effect of movies. The artificial, shallow values of Hollywood are exposed as Norma plays shamelessly to the camera and Joe takes a walk outside the theater and sings the title song, conveying comparisons between the soulless search for stardom in the film capitol and Shubert Alley’s commercialism. Choreographer Fabian Aloise also emphasizes the cutthroat nature of Tinseltown with chorus members vying for prominence, pushing each other out of the center spot as they sing of their efforts to make it to the top.
This time the performances are not overwhelmed by scenery. Scherzinger’s Norma is a seductive feline, a hybrid of tiger and cougar, ready to pounce on her prey. Clad by Gilmour in a black slip, she imparts the sparkle of sexual power that propelled Norma to top. This Norma has still got it and uses it to grip Joe in her thrall. She carefully calibrates her vocal strength, saving her power notes for maximum effect and using them to blast out Lloyd Webber’s passionate cry of neediness. (Kudos also to music supervisor and director Alan Williams for a clear, powerful rendering of the score.)
As in Price’s production, a younger ghost version of Norma (stunning Hannah Yun Chamberlain) appears, given sensuous dance moves by Aloise. As the narrator of the piece, Francis provides a solid foundation and acts as a reliable guide to this dark journey. David Thaxton is menacing and heartbreaking as Norma’s enabling butler Max. Grace Hodgett Young is sweetly sympathetic without being cloying as the innocent Betty Schaefer, Joe’s alternate love interest.
My one quibble with Lloyd’s amazing staging is a number of self-referential bits in Joe’s out-of-the-theater stroll. At one point, he embraces a backstage cardboard figure of Lloyd Webber and the audience cheers. This took me out of the show and into shameless gimmickry. But then Francis stared coldly into the camera and I was pulled back into a dark, dangerous Sunset Blvd.
