Finding oneself is hard enough for us peasants. Pity the offspring of monarchs. They can have an even tougher time, what with all those great expectations to face along the way.
That's the predicament facing the eponymous hero — more an antihero, perhaps — of "Pippin," the 1972 musical that received an inventive make-over for a Broadway revival a couple years ago. That production is now livening things up at the Hippodrome Theatre.
With an eventful book by Roger O. Hirson and mostly memorable music and lyrics by Stephen Schwartz, the work uses Pippin, son of Charlemagne, as a conduit to address any number of issues.
This unsatisfied prince gets no kick from war, lustful hook-ups and other pursuits, thinking that life must have even more to offer, especially to one so willing and able. Not surprisingly, Pippin has trouble recognizing a good thing when he sees it, but finally accepts the notion of getting by and letting be, of accepting a little less to gain a little more.
All very early-'70s, in a way, but hardly too dated for another era marked by conflicts, social and political, and obsessive interest in self-fulfillment. When, at a pivotal point late in the show, the concept of compromise is derided, it couldn't sound more contemporary.
It's still possible to wish there were more substance at the heart of "Pippin," a fresher perspective on all the familiar issues of duty, responsibility, respect, family, love, choices, etc. But it's also still possible to be genuinely caught up in, even affected by, the way this tale is told, and especially the way it's now being spun.
Brilliantly re-imagined by director Diane Paulus, this Tony Award-winning revival puts "Pippin" under the big top, allowing the musical to unfold amid all sorts of circus acts (created by Gypsy Snider).
The result is a steady dose of visual diversion, which doesn't just help minimize weaker parts in the story and make a long show feel less long, but also provides a fitting ambiance for Pippin's metaphysical search. Call it the circus of life, complete with ringmaster — the pivotal figure of Leading Player, who manipulates and controls Pippin and some others until faced with rebellion.
What makes all of this click into place, whether you buy into the Paulus concept or not, is a finely honed production with a tight cast, not to mention dynamic choreography (by Chet Walker) that pays homage to the distinctive style of Bob Fosse, who choreographed and directed the original "Pippin."
Sam Lips makes a disarming Pippin. In addition to being a natural, unforced actor, he can leap into the gymnastic side of the role with impressive nimbleness. The sweetness of his singing voice (lots of falsetto) is a major plus, making the character seem all the more naive and vulnerable.
The robust John Rubinstein, who created the role of Pippin, now has a field day as Charlemagne four decades later. He has settled into the character even more deeply than when I saw him perform it on Broadway; there's a palpable energy and spontaneity about the performance from the get-go.
Rich in vocal color, spoken and sung, Rubinstein gets far beyond the surface to create a finely nuanced portrayal. And he gives a wicked little edge to the script's digs at hypocrisy and abuse of power, secular and non- (references to such things as forced conversion and beheadings remain all too relevant).
Rubinstein, 68, is not the only theater/film/TV veteran onstage. Adrienne Barbeau, who just turned 70, literally soars into the role of Pippin's grandmother, Berthe. She's quite the charmer, and her uplifting account of one of the show's best-known numbers, "No Time at All," is reason enough to catch this "Pippin."
As Leading Player, Sasha Allen is a bold, bracing presence. She sings with all the impact you would expect from a popular competitor on NBC's "The Voice" (some hoarseness on opening night proved a minor matter). She's an accomplished actress, too, one who gets the steely, possibly malevolent side of this intriguing character, but allows a touch of sensitivity to seep in as well.
Kristine Reese is another standout in the cast, offering a funny-tender, warmly sung performance as Catherine, the widowed mother who helps Pippin see the light. And it's great to watch Sabrina Harper hoof it up mightily as Charlemagne's devious wife.
The large ensemble carries out all the tricky stage business — acrobatics, illusions, cool props — with startling nonchalance, showing off a good deal of buffed flesh while cavorting through every inch of Scott Pask's evocative set.
The revised finale leads to powerful imagery of a nuclear family suddenly unsupported and exposed (cutting back on the amplification at this point underlines that exposure), but exuding quiet determination to survive in an uncertain world.
Then, with a quick twirl of a trapeze involving one of those family members, the fundamental point of "Pippin" — humanity's continual cycle of searching, failing, trying again — gets tellingly driven home one last time.