WHEN CHILDREN’S THEATER IS A BEAUTIFUL THING
Two “P” words—“professional” and “pleasant”—describe the stage production in Greenwich Village with two “B” words in its title: Beauty and the Beast. One might also use two “E” words—“earnest” and “eager”—to characterize how its characters dive into the action and moral of the story. The genre of theatre that aims to reach and teach and beseech children to take home such messages (without making their accompanying adults wish they’d stayed home) has its challenges. That’s the nature of the, well, beast. It’s not as simple as just keeping things simple, although simplicity is simply a necessity or too much will go over the kids’ heads rather than fill their heads with thoughts and fill their hearts with joy.
Endymion, an epic poem by John Keats named for a figure from Greek mythology, begins with this well-remembered thought: “A thing of beauty is a joy forever,” followed by the line “Its loveliness increases / It will never pass into nothingness.” That was written back in 1818. The story, “Beauty and the Beast,” which goes back even further (1740), has had lasting power, too, potentially being “a joy forever” as each generation finds joy in it and gets introduced to the difference between inner beauty and outer beauty, as well as the themes of kindness and the power of love.
Although the various adaptations of the original French fairy tale have changed elements of its plot, tone, and what secondary characters are present or absent, the basic ingredients and message that remain still have impact in what the title song of the Disney treatment identified as a “tale as old as time.” What’s being presented at The Players Theatre on MacDougal Street is NOT the Disney one that’s become so exposed and familiar, starting with the 1991 full-length animated film, home video, stage, and the later live-action movie and TV presentation, not to mention other offshoots. No, the Literally Alive Family Theatre presents its own take on the story, going back to the source material. It was first offered to audiences at the same historic venue in 2013, with intermittent return productions. It’s one of more than a dozen musicals for kids and families written by the team of lyricist/bookwriter Brenda Bell (the company’s Producing Artistic Director, who’s also in the cast as the Fairy) and composer Michael Sgouros. He is one of the musicians playing a wide variety of percussion instruments during the performance (and there’s a cellist, too); it’s a wonderfully welcome fact that, unlike so many shows for young audiences that rely on pre-recorded accompaniment tracks, this company won’t cut corners that way, improving the theatrical in-the-moment excitement with players who are, indeed, literally alive. And it’s a plus that audiences aren’t minus the pleasure of being able to see the musicians and the numerous instruments. Rather than being backstage or in another out-of-sight space or below the floor in an orchestra pit, they are between the front of the stage’s proscenium and the first row of audience seats.
The prominent vibraphone and similarly sounding instruments anchor the auditory experience—an insistent motif may be the underpinning of accompaniment, background music during dialogue, or the germ of a melody line itself. Sometimes, a little goes a long way when repetition risks becoming numbing. But it gives structure. Now and again, the actors’ voices may be drowned out in heavier instrumental moments, yet they clearly are working dutifully to be clear. They often face front and move downstage. Dialogue is neither rushed nor garbled. There’s energy, warmth, and sincerity in the performances, even when what’s served from the theatrical menu isn’t as meaty or rich as the banquet on the table in the castle scene when, kind of like Goldilocks entering the cottage of the three bears, Beauty’s father lets himself in and helps himself to food.
However, before the audience sees the scenery representing the castle, the action begins in front of the other set: the humble abode of Beauty, her father, and her siblings. When father goes off because, literally, his ship has come in (prompting a song stating that fact), he offers to return with gifts and non-greedy Beauty says all she wants is a single rose. If there were foreboding foreshadowing in a song at this point, it might have been called “Be Careful What You Wish For,” but this company is careful and doesn’t wish to get heavy or scary. The rather benign Beast as portrayed by bearded Antonio Loya is, notably, neither scary-looking nor scary-sounding, for example. When Papa plucks the rose from the Beast’s garden, the Beast’s demanded consequence doesn’t initially sound so consequential.
Beauty (presented as calm and mature in a graceful performance by Heidi Liz Johnson) gets to know Beast and becomes fond of him, the messages that “Beauty is only skin deep” and “Non-beauty is only skin-deep” come through. But, also not very deep are the characterizations; the words, moods, and the acting and directing present us with people painted in broad strokes, basic emotions and personalities, with little nuance. Some people are altruistic and self-effacing, some mysterious, and two (Beauty’s two sisters) are selfish and insensitive. Still, it’s not flagrantly cartoonish. Emotions and decisions are telegraphed and reinforced with minimalist vocabulary along such terse lines as “I must go” and “I do not love you” and “I understand” and—spoiler alert “I will marry you.”
The score has admirable variety in tempi and styles. Some songs are stronger than others in furthering the plot, showing personalities, or melodically achieving beauty. At one point, someone brags, “I never met a beast I couldn’t tame,” and then bursts into song, starting with—guess what—the same words. I don’t know which came first: the music or the lyrics, or if they were written bit by bit in back-and-forth brainstorming meetings, but the two parts don’t always mesh perfectly. There are quite a few instances where the musical stress lands awkwardly on the word you would not naturally emphasize if speaking the line instead of singing it and, more troubling and unfortunate, examples of multi-syllable words with the stressed note coming on the in-COR-rect syl-LAB-le. This also makes it tough to catch all the words being sung, although some singers can navigate around those moments better than others.
What counts the most, I suppose, is that the performances indeed show respect for the target audience and can keep their attention. The children at Saturday’s matinee were not restlessly wiggling around or talking during the performance. The only time someone was heard to express a desire to leave and go home was when, in the plot, Beauty asked to leave the Beast’s castle to visit her family!
An optional opportunity is offered to introduce the story and theatre experience to youngsters before some performances. With adults in chairs right nearby, the little people sit on the floor and members of the company talk to them about how a play is put together. At the pre-show on March 8, a very attentive group of 16 kids heard from three key members of the Literally Alive family. Mr. Sgouros, who demonstrates instrumental sounds and their effects. Miss Bell, who engages them enthusiastically to elicit what they know about the story, informing them about what to expect, and explaining her various creative responsibilities, including that she’ll be seen later gliding gloriously as the magical Fairy. We also heard from upbeat fellow actor Eric Fletcher, who’ll soon transform into the father character on stage (he’s also a multi-tasker, in charge of vocal direction, hair, and make-up as well).
Among the topics covered are: encouraged, acceptable audience reactions (effusive applause and laughter are rehearsed); definitions and importance of blocking, choreography, props, costumes, etc. A few questions are answered, but I will point out that Brenda Bell’s last name sounds like the name Belle, the French word for “beauty,” used as the first name of the leading female figure. In this version she’s addressed as “Beauty”—a lot to live up to, going through life, if that’s what your parents name you—and the other titular character, when spoken to, is called “Beast,” without apparent discomfort or offense meant or taken. After this charming and cheerful interaction, cheering on the three Beauty and the Beast co-creators is clearly something the audience is prepped and primed to do, as they’re given crayons to add color to white paper crowns they’re given before entering the cozy theatre with a proscenium framed by plot-related roses.
Beauty and the Beast
Players Theatre, 115 MacDougal Street
75 minutes; no intermission
Sat at 3 & 7; Sun at 11am & 2
workshop times: Sat at 2 and Sun at 10am
ends on April 6, 2025
for tickets, synopsis, songs, even a crossword puzzle, visit Literally Alive
