REVIEW: Stumbling BACKWARDS IN HIGH HEELS

It's about time there was a stage show about Ginger Rogers, the name that has become synonymous with dancing on the silver screen. Though her films, particularly those partnered with Fred Astaire have become iconic, most people tend to forget that she got her start and ultimately built her career treading the boards on the vaudeville circuit and on Broadway. Rogers was a lady of the stage, with a catalogue of standards attached to her name from the Gershwins, Jerome & Kern, and Irving Berlin just to name a few. If the biographies of Patsy Cline and Buddy Holly have the makings of a hit Broadway musical, surely a tribute to Ginger Rogers would glide right past them. Unfortunately, Backwards in High Heels is rather unfitting, possibly even embarrassing tribute to a one of America's greatest stage and screen legends.

Making its Los Angeles debut at the International City Theatre in Long Beach, the audience really has no idea what lies in store for them as they take their seats. Expectations are set high by Stephen Gifford's lush ballroom set. Cream-colored satin draperies, a black and white proscenium stage, and a hanging crystal chandelier transport you back to those unparalleled romantic scenes from the movies. Any minute you expect the melody of "Smoke Gets in Your Eyes" to swell through the theatre as Fred and Ginger twirl onto the stage, him in his black coat and tails, her in sparkling white with a hint of fur and a flowing skirt that showcases every graceful step she takes.

What comes out instead is the silhouette of a grunting pregnant lady under the voiceover of Ginger's famous quote "My mother told me I was dancing before I was born. She could feel my toes tapping wildly inside her for months." As the woman strains and moans, literally seeming to give birth onstage, out taps a bright-eyed, smiley girl in an appalling blonde wig into the foreground, announcing herself as if she'd literally come into this world fully grown with tap shoes attached to her feet. It's a very crude, disappointing beginning. And it only goes downhill from there.

Now, as three of the greatest critics of our generation (a man and his two robots) once proclaimed, one should never use scenes from a truly great movie in your crappy movie, or show in this case, to try and make it better. Which is exactly what writer/composer/lyricist Christopher McGovern has done. He's taken beautiful, classic standards and iconic musical numbers and tried to insert them into a script that is beyond boring and mundane to give this show some kind of credibility with Ginger Rogers fans. The result is plain insulting to the subject, the original material, and the audience.

It could take hours to point out every gross injustice McGovern makes with his show (term used loosely), so let's just cover a few key points. First of all, the overall storyline. Evidently finding the prospect of focusing on the development of Ginger as a person and a persona throughout her rise to fame to be much too daunting of a task, McGovern chooses to do something of a Gypsy rip-off, dealing primarily with the relationship between Ginger and her micromanaging mother. The problem is...nobody cares! Two hours of "You're wrong, Mama! You were always right, Mama..." is not what people are paying to see. If we're delving into the gritty details Rogers' personal life, let's hear the dirty about her five failed marriages, or the underside of her relationship with Fred Astaire, the most recognizable and constant man in her life. People shouldn't have to wait until the second act for the "leading man" to finally make his appearance. And we can be fairly certain that Ginger Rogers' mother never magically walked onstage as Ginger accepted her Oscar for Kitty Foyle so they could have a touching reunion in the finale.  

The characters are written just as shallow and hokey as the dialogue. Ginger, her mother Lela, and all the supports are flattened, undynamic, and repetitive to the point of agony. Then audiences are treated to a sample of Christopher McGovern's banal attempts at songwriting, usually meant to speed through and shortchange the actually interesting portions of Ginger Rogers' life (i.e. her marriages), which pop up every once awhile amidst classics such as "I Got Rhythm", "We're in the Money", and "Pick Yourself Up". A word of the wise, Mr. McGovern: If you'd like to establish yourself as a legitimate songwriter, it really isn't the best idea to put your songs up against literally some of the most famous of all time and expect them to hold up.

Another huge problem with this show is the incredibly small cast. Looking at the program, you have to wonder "How does one pull off a big song and dance show with only six cast members?" The answer is simple: one doesn't. Watching their six-person homage to the infamous Busby Berkeley-choreographed number "We're in the Money" from the film Gold Diggers of 1933, which originally featured almost a hundred singers and dancers, was laughable. A marvelous way to close out the first act! Then there was the brilliant decision to constantly recycle the ensemble members. Ginger and Lela are the only roles that don't have the words "and others" tacked on at the end. My sympathies go out to Robin de Lano, the only female ensemble member, who has to play Ethel Merman, Bette Davis, Katherine Hepburn, Marlene Dietrich, and one of Ginger's ex-husbands.

Sadly, Backwards not only suffers from a lack of cast, but there's a deplorable lack of casting as well. Starting and ending, unfortunately, with Anna Aimee White as Ginger. Now, let it be said, this girl can dance. Which is most likely why she was cast. She taps and twirls up a storm. And her singing voice, like Rodgers herself, is not exceptional, but certainly fine and adequate. But the resemblance ends there. It's hard to believe that White did any sort of research in preparing for this role or watched any of Rogers' films, because the personality is completely off the mark. All bright eyes and smiles, White resembles more of a grown up Shirley Temple than a young Ginger Rogers. Even from her earliest film appearances, Rogers never had that wide-eyed naiveté. Katherine Hepburn once said of Fred and Ginger "She gave him sex. He gave her class." Ginger was the spice and the heat in their pairing. She was the girl from the other side of the tracks, the pull-yourself-up-by-the-bootstraps, wise-cracking, been-there-done-that kinda girl. None of that sharpness, sass, or seasoned confidence comes through in this performance whatsoever. To be fair, part of the blame falls once again on writer McGovern for not giving White any substantial material to work with, but still...the challenge to any actor is to fill in the blanks on the page.

The performance gold stars go out to aforementioned Robin de Lano for giving arguably the best performance of the bunch vocally and comedically. And although he looks absolutely nothing like Fred Astaire, Matt Bauer dances his way, quite gracefully and adeptly, into the audience's favor. The production would've been better off just stunt casting all of the parts instead of trying to recycle all of these roles. As a result, audiences should brace themselves for some of the worst classic movie star impressions they've ever seen.

You know it's a bad sign as you leave the theater when you hear the older patrons, many of whom were probably around during Ginger Rogers heyday, grumbling "I didn't care for that at all". It's sad to say that somehow Backwards in High Heels has managed to fall flat on its face.

Backwards in High Heels runs at the International City Theatre in the Long Beach Performing Arts Center (300 E. Ocean Blvd.) until March 21^st. Performances are Thurs-Sat at 8pm, Sun at 2pm. To Purchase tickets call (562) 436-4610 or visit www.internationalcitytheatre.org