Pippin
I’m not going to use the term “Fosse Fossil” here, because it wouldn’t be fair — but it’s telling that it remains a temptation. Why wouldn’t it be fair? For starters, because North Coast Rep’s production is too polished and yes, lively for something dug up and dead. Then there’s the fact that while Bob Fosse directed and choreographed the original, the music and lyrics that carry the show along are from Stephen Schwartz, and his self-conscious, wordplaying stamp on the show is stronger, despite the cavorting and transporting contortions of Lead Player Robert Zelaya. (Self-conscious: the action kicks off with our protagonist’s visit to an empty theater, builds along pre-announced pathways from which detours are called out as mistakes, and tends throughout toward an orchestrated Grand Finale. Wordplaying: there’s a song with the lyric, “And I’m not one to butt in/ But in fact I must say…) Why does it remain a temptation? Well, Director Nick DeGruccio suggests that “Pippin may resonate more today than it did [in 1972]. Young adults today find themselves without a road map. Drifters longing for meaning and connection in a disconnected world.” But Pippin isn’t just looking for meaning and connection; he’s looking for a life that fits his exalted vision of himself. He’s an All-American Golden Boy, playing the favorite son of the Emperor Charlemagne, the kid who believes from birth that anything is possible. In the play, he chugs through school, war, politics, sex, art, religion, and even love, looking for the thing that will provide constant fulfillment. That’s a sharp character for the 70s’ curdling of American exceptionalism. But today, he plays as supremely privileged: the Poor Little Rich Boy who started at the top and wanted more anyway. True, there’s a tinge of despair in the Big Finish proposed by the Players, but it lacks the awful desperation that might make it really hit home with Generation Opiod.