Guys and Dolls by Frank Loesser (review)

The question of representation is at the heart of the theatre. Simply put, an actor stands in for someone else; the person represented is necessarily absent. How we choose to represent that absent person, and with whom, is critical to the success of any production. As the oft-repeated saying goes, "casting is destiny." In the present moment, the question of who represents a character is often intertwined with who represents a culture onstage. It is against this backdrop, and in the wake of the #MeToo movement, that the production of Guys and Dollsunfolded at the Old Globe. While the production was well done from the perspective of executing the performance and honoring the spirit of the original, this show wanted to skirt the thorny questions of representation and hoped you would just sing along.

So-called color-blind casting policies have a four-decade history. They were conceived as a measure to address an imbalance of representation on our stages. Over two decades ago, August Wilson astutely questioned its effectiveness in diversifying the theatre, and "color conscious" casting has instead been instituted more frequently, as has the practice of selecting seasons that better represent our whole population. We can still do better, as was clear in the case of Asolo Repertory Theatre/Old Globe's revival. The opening of the production was at once jarring, fascinating, disturbing, and masterful. What could possibly be jarring and disturbing about a highly polished professional production of one of the most-produced musicals of all time? Well, ironically, it was the forward-thinking, integrated casting—very much a product of our time—crashing into the sexist, racist, socially backward-thinking book and score from 1950—very much a product of its own time. Seasons at the Old Globe demonstrate that the theatre is committed to engaging with major issues facing our society, but this production pretended that we still live in 1950. We have left that particular set of societal norms behind, no matter how many people might wish to return to them.

The overture was an innovation in this production. In addition to being the typical auditory experience, a five-minute preview of all the musical numbers, it was a grand dance spectacle that introduced us to the world: a fast-paced, fun, fraud-ridden, and fictional New York City. This launched the musical with high-energy, high-stepping choreography and quick changes of both sets and costumes. Lee Savage's large-scale, flashing marquees were a fantastic backdrop that referenced the Great White Way through the use of thirty-foot-tall, mobile, skeletal frames that held jumbo letters in mid-century fonts and chasing lights. Unfortunately, the precisely timed parade of skillful cast members in Brian Hemesath's well-tailored yet danceable period costumes was significantly diminished by the well-worn stereotypical jokes, most often sexist sight gags involving lusting men grand jetéing while grabbing at the behinds of high-heeled women. The groping jokes culminated in a "button" on the sequence when one of the sailors inadvertently groped a nun in his apparent zeal. The gag was extended when the nun revealed a mustache, and along with it "her" true identity as a male pickpocket in disguise.

The Benny Hill–style humor came across as more than dated in the year of the first Women's March, which has been followed by the #MeToo and Time's Up movements. The production seemed to think that we should lighten up and enjoy the fun and frivolity, but we need to hold our theatres to a higher standard. Many audience members are not entertained by someone grabbing a woman, even if the choreography is clever and even if the "woman" turns out to be a petty criminal, himself on the make. The excuse that these kinds of jokes are appropriate to the musical's original 1950 setting just did not wash. Antics involving small...