ON-STAGE STANDOUT
Lesley Nicol shines, eventually, in Annie, now playing at the Ed Mirvish Theatre,
Music by Charles Strouse. Lyrics by Martin Charnin. Book by Thomas Meehan. Directed by Nikolai Foster. Until June 3 at the Ed Mirvish Theatre, 244 Victoria Ave. Mirvish.com or 416-872-1212.
His personal lawyer might flip on him, he may be under investigation for collusion with Russia, and there might be more social friction between his constituents than in recent memory — but what if all Donald Trump needs to get his administration in order is a plucky, red-headed orphan girl?
That kind of sugary optimism mixed with bitter realism oozes from the 1977 musical Annie, by Charles Strouse, Martin Charnin and Thomas Meehan, about Annie, an orphan, plucked out of the evil Miss Hannigan’s orphanage and out of the dredges of the Depression to live with the business magnate Oliver Warbucks. Along the way, Annie teaches him (as well as Franklin Roosevelt’s government) the power of hope — which gives Warbucks a new family and America a New Deal.
With the tour of Nikolai Foster’s 2017 production from London’s West End now at Toronto’s Ed Mirvish Theatre, we can see first-hand the parallels between the 1930s, in which Annie is set, and now — frustrated Americans out of work and feeling ignored by the government, a rich businessman using his political ties to his personal advantage, and the American Dream of moral goodness being rewarded with financial success. Foster’s production doesn’t seem to try to shy away from the connections drawn between the patriarch in Annie, Daddy Warbucks, and the current U.S. president. One of the largest pieces in Colin Richmond’s set is a giant golden doorway in the shape of a “W,” which is beautiful in its art deco intersecting lines, but reminiscent of another last name, often spelled feet wide in golden tones. Knowing where the American Dream has ended, that Wall Street influence on politicians is a real and damaging threat, and that the quest for commercial gain hurt more people than it helped, the saccharine optimism of Annie, especially in a production as straightforward as this one — with one song dedicated to the homeless, before moving swiftly to the rich and powerful main character, coming off particularly insensitive — mixes with 2018’s North American cynicism like oil and water. Nevertheless,
Annie is still the earworm musical theatre fans know and love. And this one hits a couple right notes where they really count.
From the original West End produc- tion, Alex Bourne’s Warbucks manages genuine sympathy in his loneliness, trying to help Annie in the only way he knows how: by wielding his affluence. Carolyn Maitland’s performance as Grace Farrell matches her namesake. Matthew Hawksley digs into Rooster’s greasiness with long strides and smooth heel-turns, while Kate Somerset How’s Lily is equally slimy, impressive given how little is written for her character. And Isobel Khan as Annie and the “Hard-Knock Life” chorus of orphan girls are given sharp, strong choreography by Nick Winston.
Lesley Nicol, best known as Mrs. Patmore on Downton Abbey, is the marquee cast member as Miss Hannigan, return- ing to musical theatre after two years on the West End in the original production of Mamma Mia. After a slow start — Nicol’s Hannigan at first seems a bit too disoriented after a bender — she grasps the woman’s sourness, seediness and comedic timing.
One of the largest pieces in the set is a giant golden doorway in the shape of a “W,” reminiscent of another last name, often spelled feet wide in golden tones
Another cast standout is Bobby Delaney in two disparate but connected parts.
The first is radio host Bert Healy, who hogs the microphone and uses sound effects to make it simulate his own tapdancing. He also plays a member of FDR’s cabinet who gets far too enthused by a rendition of Annie’s anthem, “Tomorrow.” They’re both satirical takes on the dog-and-pony show of radio plays and cabinet meetings, which Delaney sells in each case beautifully. If the entirety of the show could sustain that level of self-awareness and absurd fun, then maybe we’d have an Annie we could really root for.