At the end of, shall we say, a testing year, it seems perverse to cheer for a malignant narcissist, a thieving liar, a fake patriot and toxic parent who exploits their children in bitter pursuit of fame. But if the world has become a sad, sleazy circus, more reason to welcome the consolation of art. The miraculous Audra McDonald blooms as Rose in what may be the most heartstopping Gypsy you’ll ever see. The fifth Broadway revival of this shatterproof classic, and the third I’ve witnessed after those starring Bernadette Peters and Patti LuPone, the current version carries a thousand-volt electrical charge and lands at the Majestic with the force of a tornado. McDonald is the thunder-tossing center of that tempest, reminding us that the root of Audra means storm.
Surrender to Hurricane Audra and you’ll find yourself in familiar territory; director George C. Wolfe’s not trying to deconstruct a masterpiece, but introduces a key difference. McDonald breaks ground as the first Black actress to play Madame Rose on Broadway. In Wolfe’s concept Rose is a Black character, as are the daughters she pushes mercilessly in showbiz, talented Baby June (Jordan Tyson) and the introverted Louise (Joy Woods)—the former noticeably lighter-skinned. We might assume they come from different fathers; Rose references three previous husbands. June is the child that Rose believes has the best shot at vaudeville stardom.
Wolfe doubles down on the whitewashing theme when Rose gets the hell out of Seattle following “Some People,” the first scorcher of Jule Styne and Stephen Sondheim’s epic score. The mother of all stage mothers bundles Baby June and Baby Louise into the Edson and takes the act on the road (the gifted Marley Gomes and Summer Rae Daney played the younger June and Louise at the performance I attended). In one of several time-collapsing montages created by legendary book writer Arthur Laurents, Rose and the girls pick up three boys in their journey to Los Angeles, each nicknamed after the place they were found (or abducted?): Little Rock, Tulsa, et cetera. Each talented lad is played by a young Black performer. When the kids age up in Gypsy’s unforgettable flash forward (to a grinding, jazzy cover of “Stars and Stripes Forever”), the boys are replaced on stage by older, white actors. Clearly, Madame Rose thought the act needed a new coat of paint.
These gestures toward colorism in 1920s and ’30s popular entertainment help to undergird a gut-wrenching performance by McDonald as a woman fighting battles on multiple fronts, with only grit and shamelessness to get her through. To be sure, McDonald doesn’t turn Rose into a saint. She’s still a deluded monomaniac living through her children, denying them freedom, happiness, even adulthood—in their 20s they claim to be 12. Written by Laurents as a somewhat prudish manipulator (the real Rose Hovick was a lesbian and prone to violence), Rose keeps her suitor and manager Herbie (supermensch Danny Burstein) dangling with promises of marriage. The way that Rose will flinch at Herbie’s romantic overtures, then turn on erotic charm to get her way suggests a range of back stories: from trauma to spousal abuse to, yes, orientation.
Another distinct departure is McDonald’s vocal attack. Listen to cast albums from Merman to LuPone and you’ll see how Styne’s barnstorming anthems of showbiz ambition, “Everything’s Coming Up Roses,” as well as gentler numbers, “Small World” and “You’ll Never Get Away From Me,” generally call for a head voice. Hard-driving, piercing, nasal: Rose is pushy both in spirit and song. The classically trained McDonald delivers a mellower chest sound, a bel canto soprano that creates cognitive dissonance with her earthy, working-class spoken lines—more Leontyne Price than Angela Lansbury. The clash of Rose the street fighter and Rose who sees herself as a true artist is beautifully embodied in this split. McDonald can still be ugly, of course. In the eleventh-hour “Rose’s Turn,” after Louise has achieved fame as “intellectual stripper” Gypsy Rose Lee and rejected her controlling mother, Rose unleashes a torrent of anger, regret, and recrimination. The number, operatic in intensity and cathartic on a level few other musicals have ever achieved, simply flattens you. McDonald plays it raw, desperate, despairing. She pushes Rose to the edge of insanity, and we go crazy for it.
Wolfe and McDonald are doing career-defining work at the height of their musical and theatrical powers. Masterfully conducted by Andy Einhorn and choreographed with sizzling verve by Camille A. Brown, this three-hour production flies by and leaves you wanting more. How would I define more? I want this director to revisit Caroline, or Change (which he staged 20-plus years ago) and to bring his leading lady with him. No doubt this stupendous Gypsy will have a nice long run, but since carnival barkers and clowns have jumped from burlesque dives to the halls of power, we all need hope for the future.
Gypsy | 3hrs. One intermission. | Majestic Theatre | 245 W 44th Street | 212-239-6200 | Buy Tickets Here
