Smile on My Face: The Songs of Richard Eisenberg

December 29, 2012

Laurie Beechman Theatre: May 6; Etcetera Etcetera: October 24; Urban Stages: December 13; Don’t Tell Mama: February 7

The four performers in the revue “Smile on My Face” begin with a medley of two Richard Eisenberg selections—”Hum a Song” and “They Don’t Make Them Like That Anymore.” These songs lament the tuneless and repetitive nature of today’s pop music and celebrate the melody and wit of songs whistled in Tin Pan and Shubert alleys in decades past. The implication, of course, is that Eisenberg is an artist who relies on the old-school models for his own song construction. And, based on the songs offered in this program, that seems to be the case. Eisenberg’s compositions are indeed hum-worthy, and his lyrics are playful and amusing. His songs reminded me of two other melody-friendly songwriters: Irving Berlin and Jerry Herman.

It’s telling, I believe, that Berlin, Herman, and Eisenberg all write (or, in Berlin’s case, wrote) both the music and the lyrics of their songs. There’s an ease—a straightforward and matter-of-fact quality—that comes through in their work, perhaps because they didn’t have to hammer things out with a collaborator during the act of creation. On the down side, though, you sometimes listen to songs that sound easy and hear songs that sound facile. Titles from Eisenberg heard in this revue tend not to challenge the listener greatly. Which is fine, unless you’re in the mood for a challenging song.

Stephen Sondheim also writes both music and lyrics, and his songs brim with challenge. But Stephen Sondheim is the exception to a good many rules. Young contemporary songwriters working in the American Songbook tradition often imitate (wittingly or unwittingly) the sound of Sondheim. You hear little if any of that with Eisenberg. What you get in his melodies would not startle anyone who heard them in a Broadway rehearsal hall in 1950. His lyrics can be more contemporary—well, sort of. In his delightful list song “Two Again,” famous pairs, from “Adam and Eve” to “Eydie and Steve,” are celebrated, and Eisenberg throws in references to such relatively recent duos as “Calvin and Hobbes” and “Apple and Jobs.” But everything else about the song is defiantly retro.

Eisenberg’s one nod to the new-fangled comes with his inclusion of some lyrics concerning below-the-belt bodily functions. His “Grandma Meets Grandpa”—in which an elderly Jewish couple look back on their first encounter—seems like it will be a simple, charming “Ah yes, I remember it well” turn, until Eisenberg tosses in some pointed sexual innuendo. Then there’s “The Essence of Love,” which doesn’t even bother with innuendo. It’s simply and straightforwardly about flatulence. I found its inclusion a mistake here, especially with its placement right after that opening medley, which championed things classy. Then again, how can a song about farts ever not be obtrusive, no matter where it appears on the set list?

Eisenberg is capable of turning serious with a ballad. I liked the torchy “Love Isn’t Easy.” But his angst-filled, gloomy “Winter Arrives” didn’t work for me. The figurative language seemed forced. Endowing winter with “icicle teeth” might play just fine in a funny song, but it came off as stilted in this serious number. Eisenberg is more in his element with a clever trifle like “Her/Him,” which plays with personal pronouns in a whimsical way that reminded me of E.Y. Harburg.

The performers in “A Smile on Your Face” served the songwriter quite well. Stacie Perlman made “Love Isn’t Easy” a bitter valentine. Erin Cronican took the lead, pleasingly, on the lilting, Cy Coleman-esque “A Walk in the Park,” and she seemed to channel Olivia Newton-John to good effect on the countrified “Sorry.” Adam Shapiro provided a good comic presence throughout, though he was stuck with both “The Essence of Love” and “Winter Arrives” as his main solos. I found Rob Langeder to be the evening’s big winner. His smooth baritone and easygoing manner proved just the right fit for Eisenberg’s largely buoyant musical style. Even when he took a somewhat over-the-top tack on the “The Smile on My Face,” he demonstrated a commitment to the material that made him seem genuine and likeable.

Peter Napolitano’s between-song dialogue sometimes came off as a little bland, but it got the job done efficiently. I thought his work as director veered a bit far toward the cutesy at points, though his broad staging of “Grandma Meets Grandpa” (featuring Shapiro and Perlman) earned an appreciative “aahhhh” from the audience, so I suppose I’m in the minority on that point. Musical director and pianist Barry Levitt helped keep things appropriately lively and upbeat throughout.

The songwriter himself turned up to sing the encore—a song not on the set list, apparently titled “Never Too Late.” The sentiment made for an apt finish. Eisenberg may have been born in a generation that doesn’t fully appreciate the sorts of songs he has to offer, but I for one am satisfied that he’s continuing to do his own thing, however old-fashioned. There are plenty of other composers around to ape Sondheim.


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About the Author

Mark Dundas Wood is an arts/entertainment journalist and dramaturg. He began writing reviews for BistroAwards.com in 2011. More recently he has contributed "Cabaret Setlist" articles about cabaret repertoire. Other reviews and articles have appeared in theaterscene.net and clydefitchreport.com, as well as in American Theatre and Back Stage. As a dramaturg, he has worked with New Professional Theatre and the New York Musical Theatre Festival. He is currently literary manager for Broad Horizons Theatre Company.