The Encores! Off-Center series continues with Promenade, a one-of-a-kind whatnot from 1969 with a wide range of admirers courtesy of its truncated cast album. Produced in full form—or at least with numerous additional songs and vast stretches of what is called, by definition, the book—it reveals itself as less of a gem and more of a somewhat tarnished curiosity.
That said, the evening is not without enchantment. The Rev. Al Carmines was an unconventional songwriter, by any standards. He wrote numerous musicals (In Circles, Peace, The Faggot), working mostly in the off-off-Broadway field. Promenade turned out to be his most memorable and successful effort, leading directly to his one Broadway attempt, the 1971 Mickey Rooney vehicle W.C., which shuttered during its summer-stock tryout.
By any measure, the score for Promenade is astoundingly interesting. Carmines ranges through what seems to be a half-century’s worth of pastiches with good humor and great success. This is just as intriguing today as it was in 1969, at a time when the Broadway musical had only advanced as far as Promises, Promises and 1776. Clive Barnes, in his “money review” in the Times, memorably called Promenade “a protest musical for people too sophisticated to protest.” The next year brought the dawning of the age of Sondheim, with Company and Follies, after which Promenade might not have had the same impact.
[Read David Finkle’s ★★★★★ review here.]
Carmines frequently served as his own lyricist, but the book and lyrics for Promenade came from another noted off-off-Broadway figure, Maria Irene Fornés (who died in October at the age of 88). The piece was fashioned for a handful of performances at the Judson Poets’ Theatre in the heart of Greenwich Village in 1965, and four years later expanded for a full off-Broadway run. (This is the one case in memory where a theater was named for its opening attraction. The 399-seat Promenade, built within the Manhattan Towers Hotel on the Upper West Side, remained a popular venue for 37 years until closing in 2006.)
Fornés’ work here suggests Ionesco and Gertrude Stein meeting in a St. Mark’s Place coffee house to fashion a Vietnam-era counterpart to Hellzapoppin’. And who knows? Perhaps that was precisely what she was attempting. It likely worked far better in 1969; but, then, Hellzapoppin’ would surely be stultifying today. Even so, there’s more than something to be said for a poet who can come up with a lyric like the following interlude from the song, “Little Fool”:
Both my wife’s and my mistress’ name is Kate
One day when I made love to Kate my wife
I thought of my sweet mistress Kate
And in a moment of passion and confusion
I said Kate, dear Kate, oh Kate
My wife, hearing me speak my mistress’ name
Said harsh words to me and put me on the street
The plot, if you can call it that: Two prisoners (named, simply, 105 and 106) tunnel their way out of jail and are flung down the rabbit hole into a contemporary Wonderland, where they hide among a clique of glitteringly eccentric sophisticates named Miss I, Miss O, and Miss U, as well as Mr. R , Mr. S, and Mr. T. A comedic jailer pursues them like a buffoonish Javert, until a battlefield scene returns them to jail. I think. There is also a servant—at least she’s labeled Servant in the program and on the script binder she carries—who steps out and sings like the blazes.
The fact that said Servant—here played by Bryonha Marie Parham, formerly Serena to Audra McDonald’s Bess—sings so well is likely a matter of original casting. The role was in 1969 fashioned around an eccentric newcomer with a whale of a voice named Madeline Kahn, who quickly left Promenade to provide similar vocal acrobatics in the new Richard Rodgers musical, Two by Two. These song spots not only stop Promenade in its tracks; they more or less stop the narrative midway for numerable contributions from the Servant backed by 105 and 106.
Parham does especially well with this high-octane material (“The Cigarette Song,” “The Clothes Make the Man” aka “Who Can Marry a Gigolo?” “Crown Me”), as do James T. Lane and Kent Overshown, who, as the convicts on a journey through the underworld, are the central figures of the musical. Also standing out are Marcy Harriell’s rendition of “Capricious and Fickle” (so memorably created by the late Alice Playten) and Saundra Santiago, who constantly wanders the stage as a mother in search of her long-lost “Little Angels.”
The evening wends its way to an overlong 110 minutes, here performed in one extended act instead of the original two. Director Laurie Woolery does not work miracles, with her 15-character cast often deployed in clusters or a long chorus line. Neither does choreographer Hope Boykin; both seem hampered by the sprawling non-structure of the script. They are countered by music director Greg Jarrett, who delivers Carmines’ musical contributions in full splendor. One might also note the splendid orchestration by Eddie Sauter, who creates a dynamic Carmines soundscape with a mere seven pieces.
Is the rarely-produced Promenade here revealed as an all-time gem? No. But this is precisely the sort of material Off-Center exists to investigate. Fans of the genre should be thrilled by the two-nights-only opportunity to experience the magic of Carmines.
Promenade opened July 10, 2019, at City Center and runs through July 11. Tickets and information: nycitycenter.org
