Jennifer Sheehan

September 23, 2009

“You Made Me Love You”

Laurie Beechman Theatre  –  September 18, 20, 25

Jennifer Sheehan has come a long way artistically since she made her promising New York cabaret debut at Danny’s Skylight Room in 2005. Though manifestly still an ingénue, she performs with considerably more authority: there is more weight to her voice, her interpretations have greater depth, and her acting skills have grown exponentially. What’s more, she moves her body in a manner reminiscent of Rita Hayworth—very sensual and at once fluid and angular; this is a very good thing.

Her new show celebrates the Great American Songbook, whose birth—according to a few learned commentators—can be traced to 1909, when Shelton Brooks wrote “Some of These Days,” the song that departed from the then-current popular song elements and traditions to become the first modern standard. (In performing this song, Sheehan sings not only the familiar refrains, but also the relatively rare verse. Interestingly, the verse sounds quite old-fashioned, like the songs it left behind.)

Considering the theme, you won’t be surprised to learn that the show is filled with great American songs. In addition to the aforementioned “Some of These Days,” which she and her always-fine musical director, James Followell on piano, perform with plenty of oomph, there are James V. Monaco and Joseph McCarthy’s “You Made Me Love You” and the Gershwins’ “How Long Has This Been Going On?,” both given committed, heartfelt readings. Her interpretations of Irving Berlin’s “What’ll I Do?” and Sammy Fain and Irving Kahal’s “I’ll be Seeing You” are direct and affecting, though the latter is undermined a tad by her beginning the song seated alongside Followell, then crossing to center mid-way to finish it, without a dramatic justification for the move. Only with Cole Porter’s “In the Still of the Night” does she appear to lack a clear vision or point of view.

Moving a bit forward in time, her rendition of Jule Styne/Comden & Green’s fiendish “If You Hadn’t, But You Did” is one of the best I’ve heard, filled with funny, beautifully considered line readings. (At the performance I saw, some of the life-threateningly rapid-fire lines needed to be a little more precisely rendered. Also, she sings “purple lipstick on myhandkerchief” instead of “…your handkerchief”; I wouldn’t have mentioned this since anyone can slip up on a lyric, but I saw her do this in another performance of the piece, so it would appear that she may have learned the line incorrectly.) She delivers a sensitive interpretation of the triste “When October Goes” (Johnny Mercer, Barry Manilow). Telling us that “Two for the Road” (Henry Mancini, Leslie Bricusse) was Mancini’s favorite of his songs, she proceeds to sing a severely truncated version of it; this is (a) anti-climactic, (b) unsatisfying, and (c) somewhat of a cop-out.

To prove that the Great American Songbook is still being written, she includes a few songs by contemporary writers. She acquits herself admirably on two by the worthy Susan Werner, “I Can’t Be New” and “Movie of My Life,” and on “Unexpressed,” one of John Bucchino’s loveliest and most touching works. However, she weakens her case by attempting to compare Adam Guettel to his grandfather Richard Rodgers. As we all know, Rodgers composed many of the most gorgeous songs written in the past 100 years, whereas the extravagantly overpraised and overrated Guettel has penned some very nice phrases.

Most of the time, her voice is a beautiful instrument; however, when singing quietly in her lower register, at times the sound is uncertain and unsupported. Her patter is a problem. She tells us too much and talks to us too often about her personal history and her experience studying with Andrea Marcovicci, who became her mentor. We don’t need to know all—or any—of this; such autobiographical information does not shed light on the theme of the evening, the Great American Songbook. She should take a cue from Marcovicci, whose masterful patter is always about the subject at hand. And even when Sheehan stays on theme, her patter is generally geared to the terminally unsophisticated. She might consider developing an alternate version for more knowing listeners—or perhaps simply giving her audience more credit. Her patter does include very funny comparisons between great old standards and today’s hits. One contemporary song she sites is so improbably titled I was certain she’d made it up, so I checked it out when I got home. Nope and alas, the public’s taste truly has descended so low.

Speaking of Marcovicci, Sheehan’s expressive use of her hands and arms shows Marcovicci’s influence—but unlike some other Marcovicci disciples, she has internalized what she learned and doesn’t appear simply to be mimicking her teacher. Expressive and impressive.


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About the Author

Roy Sander has been covering cabaret and theatre for over thirty years. He’s written cabaret and theatre reviews, features, and commentary for seven print publications, most notably Back Stage, and for CitySearch on the Internet. He covered cabaret monthly on “New York Theatre Review” on PBS TV, and cabaret and theatre weekly on WLIM-FM radio. He was twice a guest instructor at the London School of Musical Theatre. A critic for BistroAwards.com, he is also the site’s Reviews Editor; in addition, he is Chairman of the Advisory Board of MAC.