The Oxford Companion to the American Musical: Theatre, Film, and Television (review)

Musicals have inspired several passionate and dedicated chroniclers. Among the best are Ken Bloom, Gerald Bordman, Kurt Gänzl, Ethan Mordden, Richard Norton, and Steven Suskin. With The Oxford Companion to the American Musical, Thomas Hischak joins their ranks, if somewhat to the rear. Yet researching and writing this encyclopedic effort must represent, by necessity, much of a life’s work—one to be appreciated if not entirely embraced.

Hischak’s subtitle—“Theater, Film, and Television”—is the work’s distinguishing characteristic. While many books focus on either theater or film musicals, I know of no other source that treats both equally, and none that seriously addresses television musicals. As so many of the primary creators and performers participated in some combination of these venues, it makes perfect sense to combine them. I wish that Hischak had included more West End productions—particularly those that crossed the Atlantic in either direction, even if space demanded it be at the expense of many of the television entries—but his American focus is the author’s prerogative.

Despite its strengths, this is far from a perfect book. I suspect that its key flaw lies not with Hischak, but with his publisher. The value of any reference book of this type is tied to the quality and depth of its index. This index is minimal. Virtually the only subjects that warrant index entries are those that also merit entries in the book itself—cross references are rare at best. For example, Sitting Pretty is a somewhat obscure but important musical from 1924. It does not have an independent entry nor does it appear in the index, despite the fact that it features in at least four entries—those of its composer Jerome Kern; its lyricists/librettists P. G. Wodehouse and Guy Bolton; and one of its stars, Queenie Smith. One desirous of more information about Sitting Pretty would have to consult another reference for clues of how to find it in this book.

Further reducing the book’s usefulness, the index includes show titles and the names of individuals only—no song titles, topics, or subjects. This shortcoming effectively buries some fascinating, if obscure, items that would be essentially impossible to discover without reading the book in its entirety. Following are some examples. Of the TV musical Satins and Spurs (1954) Hischak writes: “It was NBC’s first color spectacular and the network built up so much anticipation that many were disappointed by the ninety-minute show. (Many viewers with black and white television sets thought they would receive the show in color as promised.)” (658). In the entry on the innovative director Hassard Short, we learn that he “replaced footlights with lighting instruments hung in the auditorium, used elevators and revolving stages, added color to lights, used mirrors on stage effectively, and even had whiffs of perfume sent out into the house for certain numbers” (675). And of director and choreographer Ned Wayburn, he was “possibly the inventor of tap dancing . . . by nailing metal tips to his students’ clogs for rat-a-tat sound” (783). Without index entries for Television, color; Staging innovations; or Tap dancing, Hischak’s research is largely wasted.

Another criticism which I attribute to the publisher is shoddy editing and proofreading. I made note of dozens of typos. A publisher as prestigious as the Oxford University Press has an obligation for thorough copyediting and catching “I Being a Girl” instead of “I Enjoy Being a Girl” (248); “Betty Garrett never because a major star” instead of became (274); and, a particularly suggestive error, Billy Gilbert “was a replacement in the Fanny” (284). For all we know, “Rudy Keeler” may have been Ruby Keeler’s brother (391), and Myra Myrna Loy’s little sister (454). Perhaps most egregiously of all, Andrew Lloyd Webber is alphabetized under Webber as opposed to Lloyd Webber (784). Other lapses are more arcane—Harold Hastings is credited as...