Jenn Colella and Michael Arden star in the Bob Dylan-inspired tuner 'The Times They Are A-Changin'.'
An Old Globe Theater presentation, by special arrangement with James L. Nederlander, Terry Allen Kramer, Debra Black and Hal Luftig, of a musical in one act conceived, directed and choreographed by Twyla Tharp. Music and lyrics by Bob Dylan. Music adapted, arranged, orchestrated and supervised by Michael Dansicker. Music director, Henry Aronson.
Coyote - Michael Arden
Captain Arab - Thom Sesma
Cleo - Jenn Colella
Following the hard-won success of "Movin' Out," her dance narrative set to the songs of Billy Joel, Twyla Tharp takes on the oeuvre of another American music icon, Bob Dylan. Apparently, the master choreographer made two observations about Dylan's songs: they're filled with references to circuses and carnivals; and once a narrative context is created for them, they often work best dramatically when the performers just stand still and belt them.
There's a certain bravery in a choreographer willing to move the dancing this far into the background -- as an accent rather than a driving force -- but there's a sacrifice, too. Isn't it strange that the best moments of a Tharp show occur when the dancing ensemble is offstage?
In "The Times They Are A-Changin'," premiering at the Old Globe in San Diego with a Broadway berth in mind, we can feel Tharp stretching and expanding her theatrical skill set. Tharp works hard at not letting the show be too literal. While "Movin' Out" was set in Billy Joel's native Long Island, this show immediately lets the audience know the inspiration is less biographical and more abstract. Even before the show starts, a draped curtain is hung onstage with phrases like "Thinking of a Series of Dreams" across it.
Tharp sets "The Times" amidst a low-rent carnival and crafts a story involving the troupe's mean and drunken leader, Captain Arab (Thom Sesma), his likeable but insecure son Coyote (Michael Arden) and beautiful animal trainer Cleo (Jenn Colella), the woman whose affections both men crave.
These three performers sing their hearts out, and there's no question that Dylan's canon is well served throughout, assisted more than ably by a five-piece band on a stand above the stage. Tharp helps her cast identify an extraordinary range of emotions that the songs, nearly without exception, deliver.
But these leads are not trained dancers, and they don't dance except in a few instances.
Hear that? They don't dance!
The dancing is done by the ensemble of carnival workers, who -- in addition to more traditional dancing -- walk on stilts, portray the animals that Cleo tames (to the tune "Man Gave Names to All the Animals") and bounce on large circus balls. The choreography here often tends toward the gymnastic (handsprings, contortions), aided by trampoline surfaces placed strategically in the front, middle and rear of the stage. While the seven members of the ensemble step into the foreground on occasion, their primary purpose is to be expressive and supportive.
Thematically, "carnies" represent a group of nomads, people always on the move, although in this instance, as made clear in Colella's rendition of "Everything Is Broken," this troupe has come to a halt, their wagon now just a shanty topped with miscellaneous detritus by set designer Santo Loquasto.
Amidst this world, Coyote (played as something of a sad clown by Arden) seeks to escape the captivity of his father and, over a series of songs, finally manages to charm Cleo. When his father observes their love, it breaks him, and (without much of an explanation -- but this is a dream, remember?) he goes "Knockin' on Heaven's Door," a song cleverly staged with flashlights.
With her father-son battle and a generic if pleasantly executed story of young love, Tharp clearly wants to explore the archetypal, to create a dreamscape inspired by the mythic power of Dylan's songs.
And the "carnies" are there to evoke that world, a group of outcasts who live with humor and hopefulness, but also with a genuine knowledge of despair.
The problem is that Tharp's carnival world just never convinces.
Rather than humor, she ends up mostly with hokiness (like the too-eager-to-please dog). And the ensemble -- young and agile -- seems comfortable expressing hopefulness but really doesn't manage the deeper wells of despair or rebellion. Their expressions of rebelliousness in "Maggie's Farm" and "Masters of War" feel wholly uneventful, despite boasting the showiest choreography.
Even the talented Colella and Arden don't really seem to belong to this carnival world. Yes, they might be trying to escape it, but it needs to be an indelible part of them, and they're just too scrubbed, too boy and girl next door, to begin with.
In terms of the individual sequences, too many right now feel like there's a lead singer with back-up dancers. The carnival ensemble seems like it should be functioning akin to a Greek chorus, but even in that framework, they're too peripheral.
There are, though, moments that work, where the music and movement fuse to deep emotional impact.
Arden, for example, sings a beautifully yearning version of "Mr. Tambourine Man" while sitting on a crescent moon (made of lights) that descends from the flies. A solo dancer moves below him, and the song ends with the symbolic involvement of a skeleton shadow. It's the only time Tharp really catches the right dreamy surreality she seems to strive for throughout.
But the most moving sequence is when the leads do actually dance. As Sesma, the one performer who carries with him a true sense of desperation (with just a touch of Dylan's vocal raspiness in his voice), sings "Simple Twist of Fate," Arden and Colella pair up in the background.
They don't dance especially well -- nor is the dance choreographically exciting -- but it doesn't matter. Because the song, the story and the movement are all working as one. When the whole ensemble is present, that unfortunately never happens.
Set and costumes, Santo Loquasto; lighting, Donald Holder; sound, Francois Bergeron; production stage manager, Arthur Gaffin. Opened Feb. 9, 2006. Reviewed Feb. 11. Running time: 1 HOUR, 30 MIN.
With: Marty Lawson, Jason McDole, Jonathan Nosan, Justin Bohon, Albert Guerzon, Sean Stewart, Tamara Levinson.
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Date in print: Mon., Feb. 13, 2006