BACK STAGE
Bistro Bits
Review by John Hoglund
|
As If She Never Said Goodbye
Somewhat like Annie Hall, cabaret's Annie Hughes has always set a
trend albeit a flip one. Such was the case in her one-nighter, “Back
and Forth,” at the Hideaway Room @ Helen's a few weeks ago in a
rare local club appearance since moving - to Wisconsin. Once a
potent force on the cabaret scene with her thrilling coloratura and
wacky sense of humor, Hughes proved time has only made her
delivery grow warmer and her self-effacing comic bantering has never
been better.
Once upon a time, I noted that if Annie Hughes can't get a job on
Broadway, what hope is there for anybody? She made it to the radar of
Hal Prince and Sondheim and even partied with the gang up at Liza's
place a few times. However, as things go, the right roles didn't come
her way (yet she got to play Mrs. Lovett in regional theater once.)
But her cabaret forays were always nonpareil. With then newcomer
Jason Robert Brown at the keys for several seasons, it was a match
made in cabaret heaven. Hughes, incidentally, is responsible for
putting “Stars and the Moon” on the map long before Audra McDonald,
Betty Buckley and the world discovered this little gem. Good
memories which she referred to kindly in her show.
Alas, after some prudent financial investments paid off, she put things on hold to care for her aging parents on a golden pond in
Wisconsin. Well, bless those damn loons; they sent her back to Manhattan in what hopefully will mark a frequent return for this
bodacious talent who never met a high “C” she couldn't knock out of the park.
Regardless of whoever sent her back, the timing was right. She simply breezed into town and took the place by storm starting with
her outrageous treatment of “Show Off,” a comic ditty from “The Drowsy Chaperone” (Lambert) where she also spoofed her life in
the state of cheese.
After campy patter about guys who frequent the bars in her newly adopted home (“... there's a 2-tooth minimum in most bars”) and
some charming references to (ladybugs as prolific as) cockroaches (“... they're everywhere”) she glided into a smoldering reading
of Brenda Russell's “Piano in the Dark” with a haunting arrangement by musical director Daryl Kojak. Referring to the “old days”
through much of the 90's, where Hughes was a regular at watering holes like Eighty Eight's, Rose's Turn and The Five Oaks
wowing the crowd with throat-scorching arias like “Glitter & Be Gay” or other show-stoppers, she set up “He Knew How to Read Me'
by Ben Schechter, a clever “pick me up” song (from the point of view of the Sunday NY Times) that was just that: all about being
picked up from the floor (“ ... he tossed me on the carpet and then he spread me on the floor!”)
With quirky references to being unlucky in love and the dilemmas of online dating in Wisconsin, (“... there's not a lot of fluoride in
the dating pool”) she segued into the riotous “Making Love Alone” (Miller-Hardwick.) Much of the show was filled with the side-
splitting off-beat humor she is famous for. However, it was on those big, heartfelt ballads where this soprano showed she still has
few peers as she captivated on a medley of “One Kiss” (Sigmund Romberg) paired with “And This Is My Beloved” (Forrest-Wright.)
A warmly melancholic fusion of Dave Frishberg's “You Are There” with “Company,” by Ricki Lee Jones was so blissful, she once
again recalled a young Barbara Cook and sang with a yearning that might have struck a personal chord (“ ... someday, you'll hear
me crying for more company.”) Singing Stephen Schwartz's beauty “For Good,” from “Wicked” capped off a perfect hour by this force
of nature who can, like the aforementioned Cook in her prime, sing better than any of today's crop of rising stars now on the Great
White Way.
I could go on and on. But I've done all that in the past. Suffice here to hope that she will return to the spotlight in Gotham with more
than an occasional visit. Few singers can so effortlessly sail through such highs and lows in an intimate room and positively glow
the way Annie Hughes can. Her voice is always in just the right place at the right time. Be it in Wisconsin, Baghdad or back in New
York City, this light still shines brighter than all the rest. She's better than ever with a new resolve, a new freedom, and a new
vulnerability that prove she is still a song's best friend.
|
CABARET EXCHANGE
Review by Rob Lester
|
She can seemingly sing anything expertly: a wrenching ballad, a wacky comedy number, operetta, razzle dazzle
musical comedy, and it doesn't hurt that she has a big vocal range (three--count 'em--three octaves, according to her resume and
reliable sources, like those in her audience thinking, "wow!"). Annie Hughes is the very definition of the word "pro," but someone
needs to con this pro into coming back to Manhattan more often. Hopefully, she'll come willingly. Otherwise, it may be difficult to
find kidnapers willing to travel to Wisconsin and back, but that is where Annie has relocated after years of being based in New
York. We'd probably have to pay them a handsome fee plus all the cheese they can eat on the way back. Returning to the
Hideaway Room at Helen's on Eighth Avenue for a one-night-only splash, Annie was gratefully welcomed back by an appreciative
audience. (She'd been there at the end of last year doing this show.)
Opening with a bang, and a rolling of the eyes, she borrowed a showstopper from The Drowsy Chaperone, the mock lament of
the weary, wary performer as she protested, "I don't wanna show off no more..." Then, of course, within this number she dazzled
by semi-begrudgingly showing off her skills with, for example, a snippet and a half of the showpiece "Glitter And Be Gay." It didn't
take long to be impressed (got a minute?). Her bag of tricks is more of a set of luggage. Out of it she pulled madcap merriment,
parody, one-liners, and blithely lobbing silvery high notes into the air. There were scathingly funny stories about her
underwhelming romantic possibilities, sincere thoughts about time passing by, and warm recollections.
Annie Hughes can easily shift gears. Occasionally it wasn't always clear when we were in serious mode. It's clear that Annie
can turn on a dime, from playing straight with her gorgeous soprano, and then go for a laugh without as much as a twinkle in her
eye to prepare you. There were a couple of times I wondered if the other shoe were about to drop (kerplunk/ha ha) or if she
simply was going to be singing a straight song sincerely. Maybe the surprise was that there was going to be no surprise. One or
two numbers might be set up a little differently or moved, but most work well as placed. I'd also like to hear her do something
more recently written by the new crop of writers. Her brew could stand being freshened that way, but it's a mighty potent brew.
There was a litany of punny metaphors in "He Knew How To Read Me," Ben Schechter's clever song presented as if the Sunday
New York Times had sensitive feelings about being used and could express them. Canny Annie convincingly draped herself in
truly ardent romantic awe of an ideal mate in "And This Is My Beloved" from Kismet, and could just as easily kick love in the teeth
while rejecting the whole idea in a self-mocking, self-centered ode to self-gratification, "Making Love Alone" by Marilyn Miller and
Cheryl Hardwick This might be a good time for an intentionally awkward segue about how Annie had a couple of male partners
in making sure she was satisfied. I'm talking musically, of course. She was accompanied by musical director/pianist Daryl
Kojak whose work I've previously admired, often in shows with more of a strong jazz sensibility. His work here showed versatility
and a comfortable relationship with all kinds of music, particularly musical theater.
Singer Rob Langeder delighted as the other
guest, game and gallant and the two made a good team. Rob recently won a MAC Award in the category of male solo debut, but
he'd been in a group show with Annie in her Cabaret past. He was her partner this time in two of three pieces done as brilliant
channelings of the excesses of the writing styles of certain theater songwriters. Known collectively as "Literate Broadway," the
writers are Linda Wallem and Peter Tolan. It's a "what if" concept, the conceit being that the singers are presenting unlikely
pieces of literature being adapted as musical theater. Annie and Rob especially click with the Sondheim parody section
(imagine him musicalizing the old first grade reader, Fun With Dick And Jane-- limited vocabulary, unlimited laughs). Hilariously,
Annie further digs into the masochistic challenges of learning and delivering mega-tricky Sondheim material in her encore set
piece, "Dear Mr. Sondheim," which she co-wrote herself (along with Wayne Abravanel).
Annie Hughes is funny in a self-deprecating way and without a mean streak. You might say she's a funny lady with a warm
streak, because there's an older-but-wiser sense about this veteran, and a desire to both communicate and entertain. It's
determined without being at all desperate. That's a key difference. She can take Wicked's "For Good," about the gratitude for the
impact others have on us, and make it ring true. In the approach to comedy, there's a real fearlessness and an in-the-moment
presence that might make her appear to be a loose cannon. But make no mistake--this cannon's ammunition is well-prepared
and packs a wallop of explosive talent. And when she turns serious, she's as likely to mend your heart as to break it.
|
MORE REVIEWS
BACK TO NEWS
|
|
