The mystery about “The Light in the Piazza,” now at the Ahmanson Theater, is how it won six Tonys during its run on Broadway.
The production is tedious with an anorexic plot line, uninspired music and insipid lyrics. Probably an award went for the sets, which are pretty wonderful, and perhaps for the 1950s costumes, which are pleasingly déjà vu. This is the musical version of the movie with Olivia de Havilland as the American mother and Yvette Mimeaux as the daughter who find romance in Florence, Italy. The movie had no pretensions. “The Light in the Piazza,” however, tries to foist its Italian charm on you without success. It is difficult enough to understand the dialogue in English but we are expected to capisce the Italian, which abounds.
As the mother, Christine Andreas copes as well as she can. She starts out with a Southern accent and now and again it is gone with the wind. Her daughter, played by Elena Shaddow, is supposed to be handicapped in some way but we are kept in suspense. What’s wrong with her? No matter, she instantly falls in love (this is Italy, after all) with a handsome stranger. Across a crowded piazza?
This stranger is handsome, indeed, in the person of David Burnham whose teeth are the brightest thing in the production. At least he can sing, although the lyrics would daunt Placido Domingo. During a hot love scene climaxing the first act, the two youngsters must sing ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, or was it ho, ho, ho? The lachrymose lyrics of a song called, “Dividing Day” whines that “there is winter in your eyes.”
The members of the Italian family make serious contributions in the persons of David Ledingham, Jonathan Hammond, Laura Griffith, and Diane Sutherland. Would you call it predictable that the Italian wife is unhappy with her philandering husband?
The sets are delightful, however, miraculously changing from venue to venue to evoke the tourist attractions of the Florence of 1953, which are undoubtedly the same today. Credit goes to Michael Eagan who almost saves the show. The costumes, too, are creative as imagined by Catherine Zuber, who knows her ’50s fashions.
To continue with the credits and, in this case, the debits, the book is by Craig Lucas and the music and lyrics by Adam Guettel. The director, Bartlett Sher, cannot be faulted.
Readers of Barbara Cartland might enjoy this mushy musical; others be warned.