Modern Bye Bye Birdie shoots far, overreaching its origins

In print | Published February 25, 2010

Albert Peterson may want the audience to “put on a happy face,” but they are far more likely to shudder. That is because Michael McCormick, who plays Albert in The Players Club of Swarthmore’s current production of “Bye Bye Birdie,” is tap dancing away the number with youngsters Annie Byers and Lyndie Moe with a grin that is more Big Bad Wolf than Bill “Bojangles” Robinson. This predatory tone is certainly not the director’s intent, but the combination of Ashley Richardson’s forceful choreography and McCormick’s extraordinary height , made more evident by the fact that he is dancing with two young high school girls, leaves a bad taste in your mouth.

FROM THE GREEN ROOM

Anne Margaret in Bye-Bye Birdie

“Bye Bye Birdie” is the story of a music producer (Albert Peterson) who is deep in debt, about to lose his star client to the draft. His secretary and love interest concocts a publicity scheme to turn Conrad Birdie’s next single into an instant hit and to bring the production company back into the black that sends the trio (Albert, his secretary Rose and Birdie) to Sweet Apple, Ohio. To accompany the release of Birdie’s single, “One Last Kiss,” Birdie will bestow a kiss on one lucky fan the day before he ships out to war, which will be broadcast on “The Ed Sullivan Show.” Written in 1960 and set in 1958, with songs about teenagers going steady and sipping Cokes with your one true love, a modern production of “Bye Bye Birdie” ought to feel sweet and nostalgic. Instead, director Mary Leigh Filippone attempted to modernize the play. The result is underwhelming and occasionally vulgar.

This production of “Bye Bye Birdie” has more than its fair share of young talent, but it is the unsettling moments like the one woman-seven man orgy at the Shriner’s meeting — a graphic and extreme interpretation of the “Shriner’s Ballet” — that one remembers. The word “orgy,” which shows up unnervingly often, is an understatement and not just in reference to the “Shriner’s Ballet.” In the song “Ice House Livin’,” Filippone’s teen chorus of 16 middle-schoolers and young high schoolers maul Birdie and squeal “Let’s have an orgy.” A line which should demonstrate how innocent and confused the kids of Sweet Apple are is turned into a parent’s worst nightmare, even though the clothes stay on. When the parents discover this debauchery and send Birdie to jail for consorting with the underage, it seems like Birdie would be well within his rights to press charges against some of the older children for displaying raw sexual aggression.

The fact that this scene was so disturbing can be credited to Filippone’s flawed vision and her pool of very talented teenage actors. A particular standout is Sara Prendergast in the role of fan club president Ursula Merkel; her wild devotion is nothing short of brilliant. Prendergast has a career ahead of her if she chooses to pursue acting. Darby Biasotto, as Kim MacAfee, the girl selected to receive Birdie’s kiss, also does a bang-up job, in part due to her high soprano and good ear.

Among the adults, Andrea Kalan gives a fine performance as Rose Alvarez, but lacks flair. Her voice is just right, and her attitude is faithful to the script, but she fails to form a deep connection with the audience. Perhaps it is her devotion to McCormick’s boring Albert which hinders audience sympathy, but whatever it is, no amount of playful choreography could inspire the sympathy necessary to make the time pass quickly. Length was an issue for the production, which dragged along at a snail’s pace whenever Albert was on stage and was only briefly boosted by the occasional presence of Birdie and a hilarious cameo by the choreographer (Ashley Richardson) in the role of Gloria Rasputin.

Filippone would have done better to devote her energy to making the illusion of 1958 complete instead of trying to force a modern connection. If you’ve never seen “Bye Bye Birdie,” this is an acceptable introduction, but only if one regularly reminds oneself that this is local theater. Although it is unusual to encourage an audience to see a film production of a play or musical instead of seeing it live, this case is an exception. McCabe Library has a copy of the Dick Van Dyke/Ann Margret/Janet Leigh film on DVD, complete with an Ed Sullivan cameo, that is far less unsettling — not to mention free.

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