This HTML code represents the structure of a web page that includes a featured image, a caption, and several paragraphs of text. The featured image is an image of the actress Imelda Staunton in character as Dolly Levi from the musical “Hello, Dolly!” The caption below the image provides the source of the image and a photographer credit.This HTML code represents the structure of a web page that includes a featured image, a caption, and several paragraphs of text. The featured image is an image of the actress Imelda Staunton in character as Dolly Levi from the musical “Hello, Dolly!” The caption below the image provides the source of the image and a photographer credit. The text content of the page consists of several paragraphs that provide a review of the London revival of “Hello, Dolly!”, starring Imelda Staunton. The review discusses the changes made to the production, including the addition of dialogue from Thornton Wilder’s original play “The Matchmaker” and the use of video projections to enhance the staging. The reviewer praises the cast, particularly Staunton’s performance as Dolly Levi, and highlights the production’s emphasis on storytelling and character development. Overall, the HTML code represents a web page that provides a well-structured and informative review of a theatrical production, including a featured image and detailed text content.
Manuel Harlan
Famous for many things, not least Carol Channing, who played the title role more than 5,000 times, “Hello, Dolly!” is thankfully one of Broadway’s boldest, most rousing star vehicles, its relative lack of subtlety foreshadowed by the exclamation point in its title. Purists looking for another iteration of Gower Champion’s original blueprint might view the long-awaited London revival more as a case of “Hello, Dolly?” No one expected plush glamour to be replaced by honesty and sincerity, but that’s what a strikingly tender cast, led by a wonderfully no-nonsense Imelda Staunton, delivers in director Dominic Cooke’s increasingly joyful reimagining.
The scale of the production is immediately apparent in the brilliance of the overture, played by Nicholas Skilbeck’s glossy 21-piece band, the largest — by far — currently playing in London. That’s followed by a stage full of city folk. The production has a dazzling cast of 31, swings not included, and here they all race around, driven by Dolly’s opening number. But instead of “I Put My Hand In,” Imelda Staunton launches into the film’s opener, “Just Leave Everything To Me.”
It’s a mark of Cooke’s approach. He adds to Michael Stewart’s book by plundering not just the film but also dialogue from Thornton Wilder’s 1954 play “The Matchmaker.” This is clearly less an attempt to “improve” the show than a way to deepen the dimensions of the characters to make it work in a fresh approach in a town that has far less attachment to the original, since the show has far less of a performing history here. And considering that composer-lyricist Jerry Herman himself got involved, swapping out songs when Ethel Merman took over (and more), it’s hardly a case of desecrating a sacred text.
Not that the changes affect the story itself. The differences are mostly tonal, and Cooke’s cast relishes the added texture. This is most evident in the relationship between Jenna Russell’s beautifully played Irene Molloy and Harry Hepple’s wonderfully ethereal Cornelius Hackl. Russell is a Rolls-Royce casting. Always receptive to the potential for comedy, her heartfelt candor makes “Ribbons Down My Back” a portrait of an older woman’s pent-up hopes finding liberation that is surprisingly moving.
The lean, bright-eyed Hepple can and does pull off antics, but he never overdoes Cornelius’s youthful exuberance. His vocal assurance means he’s endearingly relaxed, so the audience leans into him. He never resorts to excess to convey his character’s comic desperation. As a result, the beautifully directed farce in the hat shop is fun, but, crucially, his May-December relationship with Irene makes unusual sense.
With its vastly wide and narrow stage area—the Palladium has the second-largest seating capacity in London, but was built as a music hall, not a deep-stage theater—designer Rae Smith has a tricky task. She finds ways to make a streetcar like the trolley bus in “Meet Me In St. Louis,” and make it the train that everyone boards to go to New York, to roaring applause.
But her best solutions, besides strictly period-colored costumes — even the waiters are in sober maroon, not modern scarlet — are Finn Ross’s scrolling video backdrops of Yonkers’ city and sky and the escalator built into the floor. So much of the show is about travel and walking, and Cooke and his choreographer Bill Deamer use the moving catwalk to quick comic and dramatic effect.
When the production is in full swing, everything works in thrilling synchronicity. The climax of the title number is a case in point. Typical of Cooke’s earnest dramatic approach, he has deliberately cast the all-important waiters not as conspicuously fit choirboys, but as dancers of various ages who actually look like waiters. Deamer has them jumping for joy, but at the climax he plays with the diagonal to build tension, then, in sync with Skilbeck’s magnificent orchestral arrangement, switches them to a kickline that is knocked into place by Jon Clark’s chase on the lights that frame the stage. There will never be a version of the title number that doesn’t get a roar from the audience, but this one feels wonderfully earned.
The lead actress, the recently ennobled Dame Imelda Staunton, is, of course, the centerpiece. As she sings, “Look at the old girl now, fellas,” she beams, and a palpable wave of joy washes over the auditorium. Before she changed careers and began taking on such landmark musical roles as Mrs. Lovett in “Sweeney Todd” and Rose in “Gypsy,” Dolly Levi wasn’t exactly an obvious casting choice for Staunton, but her wealth of acting experience pays big dividends.
In the first act closer, “Before the Parade Passes By,” her dramatic intent is unusually clear, rather than merely revelling in staging. Her Dolly means it in every way, and in dialogue she is delightfully quick, funny and sharp in her dealings with everyone. By contrast, her pathos, when it finally opens up in “Look, Love In My Window,” is all the more affecting for being suggested rather than exaggerated.
Her foil and the object of her intentions, Horace, gets a welcome dose of more than grumpy touches from a pleasantly subdued Andy Nyman, so that when Dolly finally and tentatively takes his hand, her shiver of tenderness is surprisingly moving.
With memories of Broadway’s love affair with Bette Midler’s version still unexplored, the chances of a transfer are slim. But that has given the unusually well-organized creative team a unique opportunity for reinvention. Some will miss the deliberate lack of showbiz pizzazz, but Cooke and co. have taken an old-fashioned show, unexpectedly injected it with a rare but hugely welcome genuine charm, and made it a success.
