The Elizabethans would have laughed themselves silly at the premise of the musical Company — a man feeling sorry for himself because he’s hit 35? Well, middle age is no longer 20, but there is still plenty to smile about in this narcissistic lark, excellently performed at Providence College (through April 15).
With music and lyrics by Stephen Sondheim and book by George Furth, the musical hit Broadway in 1970, by which time the pill had kicked the sexual revolution into overdrive and self-obsession was a popular national pastime.
The story — a worried reverie, actually — centers around Robert (Shane Quinn). He has no last name or even occupation that we know of, because he’s a generic New York City bachelor at the dawn of the disco age. The occasion is his 35th birthday, and at the surprise party his married friends throw for him, we keep slipping back to flashbacks about them and the romantic relationships in his life. Vignettes take place on four raised platforms against a stylized skyline of pop-out skyscrapers, in Michael A. Micucci’s scenic design.
The musical is an examination of the perils and attractions of marriage as much as it is a characterization of Robert. His ten friends at the party provide object lessons across the spectrum of marital possibilities, from sappy happiness to infidelity.
College theater productions frequently are hindered by an unavoidable obstacle: young actors unconvincingly playing beyond their ages. Not so here, as an energetic and capable cast pumps up the vitality that so much concerns these characters.
Of course, Quinn sets the tone as Robert and does so in good voice, nicely handling the range of emotions as well as notes. He can even deliver the brooding “Someone Is Waiting” without slipping into sentimentality. Since Robert is a bachelor in a city that prides itself on being a latter-day Sodom and Gomorrah rolled into one, we hear three girlfriends reporting in on his answering machine. One of them is relieved she’s not pregnant. Robert says he’s not adverse to marriage: “It’s avoiding me — I’m ready.” The inadequately appreciated trio of Kathy, Marta, and April are tired of his excuses. Yet in the song “You Could Drive a Person Crazy,” though they declare in chorus that “Bobby is my hobby and I’m giving it up,” we know they don’t mean it.
The women in this musical tend to stand out as interestingly written characters, and this production, directed and choreographed by Chris J. Silva, casts snappy personalities to portray them. As Marta, Danielle Kramer provides a quirky intelligence, Colleen Burns makes the energetic Kathy charming, and when the chirpy airhead April declares that she’s boring herself, Becky Ryan is certainly delighting us instead.
There isn’t room here to name, never mind detail, the five couples who throw the party for Robert, but one in particular stands out. Echoing and amplifying Robert’s barely acknowledged anxiety over marriage, the nerve-wracked Amy is played with hilarious verve by Alexandra Kiki Tarkhan. She runs with what could be a trite set piece — a bride too panicked to walk down the aisle — and scores a comic touchdown. While Robert consoles his patient bridegroom friend Paul (Nick Herbert), Amy entertains us with such thoughts as that she’s glad he’s Jewish and this isn’t a Catholic wedding, because when they divorce in a year it won’t be a sin.
As the couples interact, Company gives numerous examples of what’s right and wrong with marriage, but the early song “Sorry-Grateful” boils down the confusion. As expressed by Robert’s pal Larry (Kevin Black): “Good things get better, bad things get worse/Wait, I think I meant that in reverse.” The women get their say, too, and perhaps the most vivid picture is a grim one. As thoroughly presented by Jill Nay¬mie, a drunken Joanne sings “The Ladies Who Lunch,” illustrating an embittered life in which they are “keeping house but clutching a copy of Life, just to keep in touch.”
This montage of memories is framed by that opening birthday party, at which Robert not only fails to blow out all the candles but also contends that he didn’t make a wish. Sondheim and Furth nicely sum up the state of mind of perpetual bachelors who remain so simply through inertia when one of Robert’s friends says, “Blow out the candles, Bobby, and make a wish — want something, want something.”
