Molly Pope

August 2, 2011

“Introducing Molly Pope”

Ars Nova  –  Jully 18-20

It was four years ago that Molly Pope made her cabaret debut with “The Diva-lution of Molly Pope,” presenting herself as a bitch-diva. The character was unappealing and unlikable, and Pope’s singing was relentlessly loud. While I could see that talent lay buried beneath the attitude, I couldn’t abide her or the show. Surely that wasn’t the real Molly Pope; anyone actually so annoying and unpleasant would have tried to conceal her true nature. Clearly, someone—Pope herself? a fatally misguided advisor?—thought it a good idea that she adopt that persona. Well, she did attract an ardent following; each time I subsequently checked her out, there they were, guffawing with glee at the campy bitchiness, and cheering at the ear-piercing vocal assault. I remained turned off. However, at Ars Nova recently, a newly conceived Molly Pope was unveiled—one with considerable depth, range, sensitivity, and charm—in “Introducing Molly Pope.”

Though Pope had done quite a few shows before, this show’s title was apt because this may have been the first time the real Molly Pope could be seen on stage. If her first show was “The Diva-lution of…,” this one could have been called “The Humanization of…” (In truth, a glimmer of this was on view in the one-nighter Pope did at Joe’s Pub in November.) As much as I disliked her earlier efforts, that’s how favorably impressed I was by this latest show. On every count, it was superb.

I don’t mean to suggest that this was a naturalistic, no-fourth-wall cabaret show; rather, it was a scripted theatre piece. However, one had the feeling that the character on stage was an artfully stylized depiction of the actual Molly Pope, and that the story line was based on her life—perhaps literally, or if not, at least these things could have happened to the real Molly Pope, and this is how she might have reacted. Pulling off this duality—walking this fine line between art and reality—is no small achievement. Kudos to the writers (Pope and Robby Sandler), the director (Jesse Geiger), and, of course, the star—Molly Pope.

On the surface, the story line was fairly standard—a recounting of the performer’s ambitions and life history. Pope’s first spoken line suggested as much: “Hello, New York City! I’m Molly Pope and I came here to make a name for myself.” But then she told us, “Both my parents died in childbirth”—and we knew that this would not be one of those clichéd autobiographical shows.

The dialogue and musical numbers were masterfully interwoven. Sometimes the dialogue would flow into a complete song. Other times, relatively short musical extracts were inserted into a series of spoken passages to advance her story—for example, a money segment intermixed dialogue and selections from sources as diverse as Oliver!, Gold Diggers of 1937, the Pet Shop Boys, Blackbirds of 1928, and ABBA to paint a portrait of the succession of jobs Pope had to pass through as she tried to establish a performing career. The segment was outstanding in its conception and its execution, with more kudos in order: to Kenny Mellman, who supplied the show’s arrangements, and Cody Owen Stine, who throughout the evening provided solid support not only on the piano, but also in his spirited delivery of some of the dialogue.

The show was frequently very funny—from whimsical to delightfully silly to broadly comical; the writing was as clever and nimble as it was humorous, and Pope’s delivery was flawless. Some moments were moving—for example, Pope’s fine rendition of Jay Livingston and Ray Evans’s “Never Let Me Go,” sung in reference to a relationship she’d had with a producer. Shortly after that, she had reason to sing “Lovefool” (Peter Svensson, Nina Persson)—a striking, syncopated arrangement and a strong performance. At times the tone was serio-comic, such as the treatment given Amy Winehouse’s “I Heard Love Is Blind.” And some moments were simply lovely (Pope’s sensitive interpretation of the poetic, rue-tinged “In the Aeroplane Over the Sea” by Jeff Mangum and Scott Spillane). Only with Cy Coleman and Carolyn Leigh’s “The Rules of the Road” was she too big: she overplayed the emotions.

I hope “Introducing Molly Pope” returns. One reason is personal: I want the pleasure of seeing it—and marveling at it—again. Another is a matter of justice: Pope and the other creative contributors deserve the success of a long run, and a show this good deserves to be seen by a large number of people. If it does come back, I would encourage them to expand the playing time and extend the story up to (roughly) the present day. Also, I’d cut back on the number of allusions to old films and give “Juke Box Hero” (Lou Gramm, Mick Jones) a bigger arrangement, consistent with its position in the show. (These last two points are not terribly important, but I thought I’d mention them anyhow since I do think they’re good ideas.) But even if absolutely nothing were changed, the show would still be pretty marvelous.

 


Avatar

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.