By Harry Haun
04 Mar 2005
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| John Lithgow & Norbert Leo Butz; Sherie Rene Scott; Joanna Gleason; Gregory Jbara; Jack O'Brien, David Rockwell & Jerry Mitchell; David Yazbeck; Jeffrey Lane; Joan Collins; Joan Rivers; Edie Falco; Rocco Di Spirito; March Shaiman & Scott Whitman; Joyce De |
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| photo by Aubrey Reuben |
You know the con is on when you pick up your Playbill at the Imperial and find on the title page in teeny tiny type 29 dirty rotten producers. Thoroughly legitimate legit types like Marty Bell, David Brown, Chase Mishken, Jay Harris, Dede Harris, Roy Furman and Harvey Weinstein are punctuated by improbables like Florenz Ziegfeld, David Belasco and The Entire Prussian Army—a merry bunch of moneybags, these.
Then, the curtain rises on Dirty Rotten Scoundrels—a light fingered foray into musical comedy—and John Lithgow and Norbert Leo Butz take it from there, a couple of con artists playing one-upsmanship on the Riviera where they relieve love-hungry heiresses of their baubles and loot. Sherie Rene Scott is the damsel over whom they square off.
These three kept the triangle twirling dizzily March 3 when the show officially opened for business, and the spin continued into the early ayem at the Copacabana after-party.
Having given their all at the office, the cast was then put through a gauntlet of flashbulbs, tape recorders and TV cameras before they could the main dining area. Not that this was a particular safe haven, either. The elephant in the room was the insistent live "entertainment," which had been pumped up to supersonic volume, thereby reducing all conversations to shouting matches or mouth-moving pantomime. It was, grimly, a blast.
Butz, who had turned in an outlandishly hilarious performance two hours earlier, was first to fade, not unlike the witch in his previous Broadway outing, Wicked. He evaporated right in the middle of a reporter's question about the transforming and transfixing performance his stomach gives in the show (you have to see it). "I'm losing my energy, I'm sorry," he said, waving away the press and weaving toward the Wall of Sound inside.
Another returnee from LaLa Land is Gregory Jbara (Damn Yankees, Victor/Victoria). He eases some of Gleason's hunger during the course of the comedy and affects a strange French accent. (All those years at the Soubonne were not wasted!). "Actually, I think it came from my French classes in junior high in suburban Detroit. It's Michigan French."
The blonde and beautiful Scott is also caught up in the moving spirit. She and her husband, Sh-K-Boom Records chief Kurt Deutsch, are now in the process of switching from a studio apartment in the city to a country home in upstate New York; the latter was previously owned by Ed Sherin and Jane Alexander. "We are definitely keeping the theatre tradition alive in the house," she promised. "It's our first house. We housesat there three years so we know what we're getting into. I have no idea how we're going to do it."
Lithgow, always the pillar of patience at these events, actually returned to the press pit in order to pose for photographs with his two lead co-stars. The chemistry among the three, he insisted, was bubbling and authentic. "You can't fake that kind of fun. Norbert is glorious to work with. I feel like we're Abbott & Costello, that we've been at this for years." Continued...
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