Nothing in film or on Broadway compares to the play within this Mel Brooks play, a fanciful romp called Springtime for Hitler. In the manner of 1930s Ziegfeld Follies, chorus girls kick in swastika formations, SS officers croon about the pure race and a gay Hitler “hitches his pants to conquer France.” For a few precious minutes, we cringe, spellbound by taboo-cracking songs, dance and costuming. We might hurt ourselves with angst if all of The Producers was this good. Fortunately or unfortunately, most of the play merely amuses with intentional bad taste. Brooks’ music harkens back to a simpler theatrical time: heavy on solos and choruses, light on dynamic harmonies. Zero Mostel and Gene Wilder’s insane comic performances (from the 1968 film) loom large over Douglas E. Stark and Eddie Curry’s portrayals of the producers who try to milk fortune from a musical flop. They occasionally miss their beats when their comic confidence gives way to their characters’ frenzy. No shadows hang over the Nazi playwright (Jeff Stockberger), Swedish bombshell (Elizabeth Broadhurst), gay director (Curt Dale Clark), the accountant balladeers or horny old ladies. They perform a litany of satisfying spoofy numbers under Kristy Templet’s musical direction and Marc Robin’s high-kicking choreographic direction. Brian Horton’s costumes fuse 42nd Street glam with Brooks’ low humor — no other word for it — seamlessly. Through Sept. 28; 317-872-9664. —Josefa Beyer

Around the Web


Subscribe to this thread:

Add a comment

This Week's Flyers

Today's Best Bets | All of today's events

Around the Web

All contents copyright © 2016 NUVO Inc.
3951 N. Meridian St., Suite 200, Indianapolis, IN 46208
Website powered by Foundation