Dear Mr. Rosen,

While I agree with many of the points of your article, I must say I am left sort of “incomplete” after reading this review. Maybe I just have my own bias towards The Lafayette, or maybe I’m still left feeling nervous when a movie-buff reviews live-theatre—in the end, I just think the college’s student newspaper needs to get somebody who has practiced the craft to review, because it seems to me that all reviews I’ve seen at my time with Lafayette either miss the point of the show completely, tear the show apart over a contingency, or gloss over any faults that may be had. Furthermore, my advice would be to review this production on its merits mid-run, meaning not during a preview performance, nor during rehearsals—while I know this wasn’t necessarily your own choice, Mr. Rosen, consider talking to your supervisors. This would mean that the reviewer would have to therefore review the production, not simply advertise for it or give a “hot take” on something they barely have to watch—as we’ve seen from a score of reviewers before you.

Take it from me: actors act better with more audience—and thus, you’d have lots more to review. There is something to be said about challenging actors to see if they consistently act well without a “good audience,” but I digress.

With your permission, I’d like to offer my notes on the production itself, too. Maybe then The Lafayette would see what the theatrical community looks for with its reviews, at least as far as I’m concerned.

First, let me say I found “The Drowsy Chaperone” to be a fine production, being that the show itself isn’t anything overtly glamorous or engaging at first glance. However, Mr. Rosen was prudent to write such a long “thank-you” to Mr. Matt Ackerman, who’s Man in the Chair helped seal this show with a kiss. At skin-depth, the Man in the Chair is a role well-known to Ackerman: the master of ceremonies whose tiny body belies a vaudeville energy that most actors today simply can never possess. Yet, seeing Ackerman in previous roles—including the MC in Cabaret—left me feeling he was holding back during this production. Something in that vinyl-loving character seemed tired: beyond memories of divorce and slurps of brandy, and it seemed to have me wanting more from him—not in dialogue or movement, but in presentation and reaction.

This very same issue seemed to plague many comedic characters: from Feldzieg and Kitty to Mrs. Tottendale and her manservant; for much of the time, the blocking and the motions seemed perfect, but were ultimately undone by blank faces. I’ve come to notice that the bane of most Lafayette productions are undone by a lack of emotion in the face, which works well for modern comedy but not at all for period pieces like Drowsy—only the Man in the Chair could afford to play deadpan since he lives in the modern age, but the figures in his records could not. Not only Mr. Brian Brundage’s Adolpho was playing a delightfully cringe-inducing stereotype, everybody is: the ditzy ingénue, the no-depth but handsome bridegroom, the drunken matriarch, the gullible-goon gangsters—everybody in The Drowsy Chaperone is a type, but I found only some actors and actresses came to that realization, much to the production’s detriment.

Students at Lafayette seem afraid to be melodramatic nowadays, and in the end: that hurt my ability to absolutely love this production. But if people love musicals so much and don’t plunge the depths of over-acting and telegraphing emotion, then they only ruin their opportunities to draw affection and reaction from an audience.

Secondly, I’d recommend The Lafayette interview the director after a show to grab some of their thoughts and interpretations on the script, the set design, the characters; you’d learn how all of this madness fits into this big musical that you seemed to love so much. Mary Jo Lodge is a wonderful professor and a very particular director, and her vision could really shed some light on lots of choices we saw in this final product. For example, I’d love to know how this show came to fit in with the Theater Department’s season theme—if anybody cares to know, the department always picks a certain kind of theme which represents the times and ties every show together like a lynchpin.

This year’s theme is “Secrets and Surprises,” whether it be from Toledo, or politically-involved like the staged-reading of It Can’t Happen Here from earlier this semester. There were lots of secrets in Drowsy: Feldzieg being in-debt to the mob, Janet pretending to be Mimi, the Man in the Chair’s failed marriage, the Chaperone trapping Adolpho—there is a lot to be said about a lot of things.

But, I have yet to see a true desire to dig deeper from either The Lafayette or the actors on-stage, more than fear of sickness or the crunch of time.

Granted, I have stated above that I did quite like this production; if anything, I think this production showcased lots of upcoming musical talent I’ll look forward to seeing in coming years, as well as reminding us the great talents that have been among us over the past few years. The lighting was virtually faultless, the orchestra didn’t miss a note (as far as a non-musician could tell), and the all the ensemble numbers ending with strong chords. More than that, I’ve seen better dancing in this production than I’ve seen in more than a decade of doing theater–and from brave Freshmen, no less.

I just wished… for a bit more—in spots and places, at least.

I’ll end this letter and review on this note: the Man in the Chair loves to consider the Chaperone’s advice during the denouement of the show, which is obscured through an onstage fluke. The agoraphobic character ruminates with the audience what this show’s message really is: to “live” while you can, or “leave” while you can. However, after speaking with members of the cast, I’d consider some advice I’ve heard from them, to “love” while you can.

In the face of today’s growingly-crazy world—which was, is, and will always be mocked, satirized, analyzed, reviewed, and otherwise considered by the charming folks with the Theater Department—perhaps we shouldn’t find such strong attraction to the “fight or flight” scenario. We discover ourselves embattled like the Man in the Chair: resentful of other people or regretful of our pasts, and with no signs of going outside or living in the “real world,” we escape into our dreams—or nightmares, depending on the moment. But regardless of if you view this “escapism” as cowardly or brave; at least from an objective point-of-view, we can grow to love how passionate we each become for our dreams. We can love seeing one another for trying to be happy, whether in a real world or otherwise.
Perhaps that is the secret to The Drowsy Chaperone, but without a more in-depth review, Lafayette students might not ever have discovered that.

I urge you to be more critical in the future, for the sake of our actors only getting better, but so that the Lafayette community will strive to think more critically with you.

Sincerely,
Ethan Simmons