By Steven Suskin
10 Jul 2011

Catch Me If You Can [Ghostlight B-4449]
There is less to be said about the original cast album of Catch Me If You Can. The new musical from the songwriters, director, choreographer and producer of the delightful Hairspray, doesn't begin to match up to their earlier effort. Much of the problem can be traced to the 1960s variety show format through which the tale — the autobiography of conman Frank Abagnale, Jr., made popular by the 2002 Leonardo DiCaprio-Tom Hanks film from Steven Spielberg — is told.

The talented songwriters Marc Shaiman and Scott Wittman seem to be nostalgic for those 60s variety shows, which is well and good for them. But if you stake your show on a genre that doesn't charm your audiences, you are deflating air from your tires and enthusiasm from your customers. Catch has attracted some strong fans, but seemingly not in sufficient numbers. And mind you, Catch nevertheless offers significant entertainment value.

But those variety numbers fall flat. And as you start to listen to the cast album, you are hit by one after another: "Live in Living Color," "The Pinstripes Are All They See," "Jet Set," "Doctor's Orders." There are, naturally, some delights to be found. The strongest — at least if you've seen the show — is "Don't Break the Rules," in which Norbert Leo Butz gives one of the most memorable eccentric dancing exhibitions since Michael Jeter in Grand Hotel. Which serves to accentuate one of the main problems of the show.

	Aaron Tveit
	photo by Joan Marcus

There are two starring roles, played by Mr. Butz and Aaron Tveit (the boy from Next to Normal). But for Catch to succeed, the actor portraying hero-on-the-run Abagnale needs to overshadow his older co-star. We saw this very situation, not coincidentally, in Dirty Rotten Scoundrels; the junior partner — Butz, what do you know? — out acted, out mugged, and altogether ran circles around John Lithgow. Who was excellent in his own role, mind you, and graciously allowed his co-star to steal the show.

Dirty Rotten Scoundrels — directed and choreographed, not coincidentally, by the director and choreographer of Catch Me If You Can — was written in such a way that the actor playing the role of Freddy needed to overwhelm us with talent and charm. That need is even greater in Catch, but unfulfilled. (This problem might be not in the acting but the writing; Mr. Tveit was reportedly more successful in this respect during the Seattle tryout, before rewrites were instituted.)

"Don't Break the Rules" is the best number in the first act, and it is very much unlike most of the rest of the show. "(Our) Family Tree," which comes late in the second, is another rambunctiously enjoyable number, full of magnolias and fresh julep. (This song, in itself, demonstrates that composer Shaiman is perfect for musical comedy.) Kerry Butler, who was so memorably enjoyable as Penny Pingleton in Hairspray, comes on at almost the last minute with her solo, "Fly, Fly Away." Highly effective, but — like the Butz solo — it seems to fall outside the rest of the score.

Catch Me If You Can is graced with one of the biggest, and one of the finest, Broadway orchestras of the past season. The producers seem to have consciously decided to give us a big band sound from a big band — a decision which pays off, big. The music of Catch — with orchestrations by Shaiman and Larry Blank, and music direction by John McDaniel — sounds mightily impressive at the Neil Simon, and on the cast album. But that sound, and the ministrations of Mr. Butz, aren't nearly enough to make this likable show soar like the jet in its logo.

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The folks at Masterworks Broadway seem to be serious about reissuing cast albums that collectors might well want to hear, rather than just giving us The Sound of Music or West Side Story again in a different cover.

The recent batch is headed by The Girl in Pink Tights. This 1954 musical about the genesis of the Broadway musical form in 1866 with The Black Crook, was — oddly enough — something of a follow-up to Gentlemen Prefer Blondes. Don Walker, who did the snazzy orchestrations for the Lorelei Lee show, was asked by Sigmund Romberg's widow to put together a musical using Siggy's musical leftovers. (Walker got his start as the arranger of Romberg's radio show; when the composer/conductor went on tour in 1935, he didn't want to lose Walker or pay him — so he got his publisher to put Don on contract orchestrating Broadway shows, alongside Russell Bennett and Hans Spialek.)

Walker, with a bunch of musical manuscripts in hand, called on Blondes lyricist Leo Robin, co-librettist Joseph Fields, and choreographer Agnes de Mille. Pink Tights is an operetta, yes, and I'm not much of an operetta fan; but the score is surprisingly likable and altogether charming. The word "charm" certainly describes star Zizi Jeanmaire, the girl who held her own against Danny Kaye in the 1952 Frank Loesser/Moss Hart film "Hans Christian Andersen." Happily chewing the scenery is Brenda Lewis, as a mid-19th-century Liz McCann. She gets to lead a quartet in one of the best no-business-like-show-business anthems: "You've got to be a little crazy," it goes, "to want to produce a play." Here is Leo Robin, of "Diamonds Are a Girl's Best Friend" and "Little Girl from Little Rock": "There's a charm in the smell of greasepaint/that is stronger than all magic spells/you're not Edwin Booth and you won't face the truth/that it isn't the greasepaint that smells."

Kean, another 19th-century costume operetta, was a 1961 Alfred Drake vehicle with an original (i.e. non-adapted) score by Robert Wright and Chet Forrest. The show has numerous admirers, but I've never quite been able to embrace its melodramatic flare. (For all the overwrought singin' from Alfred and his two ladies, I much prefer the big choral specialties "The Fog and the Grog" and "Chime In.") Drake — in his Kiss Me, Kate/Kismet mode — is always worth listening to, so I'll leave Kean with a provisional recommendation.

The 1968 Maggie Flynn was a vehicle for Shirley Jones and Jack Cassidy, kind of an attempt to mix The Sound of Music and The King and I. Shirley ran a Colored Orphanage in Greenwich Village during New York's Civil War Race Riots. The score is clammy, with big-but-synthetic ballads and talented kids (including Irene Cara, Stephanie Mills and Giancarlo Esposito) singing chirrupy cheer-up songs. But Shirley sings ever so nicely, and Jack is at his hammy best — which is very good and very hammy. Making Maggie Flynn quite listenable.

Finally, there's Runaways, the Elizabeth Swados musical that Joe Papp brought to the Plymouth from the Public in 1978. I must confess that I disliked it so much on stage that I never cared to listen to my copy of the LP, or break the seal even. So please forgive me if I don't try it now, not with other more intriguing CDs waiting.

(Steven Suskin is author of the recently released updated and expanded Fourth Edition of "Show Tunes" as well as "The Sound of Broadway Music: A Book of Orchestrators and Orchestrations," "Second Act Trouble" and the "Opening Night on Broadway" books. He also pens Playbill.com's Book Shelf and DVD Shelf columns. He can be reached at Ssuskin@aol.com.)

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