‘Pretty Woman’ makes a pretty messy musical
The 1990 Julia Roberts-Richard Gere star vehicle “Pretty Woman” became one of the highest-grossing movies of all time, so I suppose it was inevitable that it would become a Broadway musical.
But was it inevitable that the musical would feel so uninspired? Maybe.
The movie had its own identity crisis: It was originally conceived as a dark look at prostitution and class. Then film director Garry Marshall decided to revamp it as a romcom, which made for box-office success but left a confusing mishmash of a legacy for the Broadway adaptation.
The story often seems to contradict itself: Prostitute Vivian (the Roberts film role) is tough-talking and no-nonsense, but she’s intimidated by a pair of uppity shop assistants. She owns her identity as a prostitute but rages if her profession is acknowledged. At one point, she’s receiving advice from a friend as a newbie; later, it appears she has lots of experience in her trade.
But beyond the plot holes — and complete lack of any dramatic tension — are bigger fundamental problems. Despite the talent onstage and behind the scenes, “Pretty Woman” doesn’t make you feel much of anything — except, perhaps, nostalgia for the film if you were a fan.
It never convincingly demonstrates why Vivian and Edward, the rich corporate raider who hires her, fall in love — or why Edward has a sudden change of heart in his business dealings. Everything happens merely because the script says it has to, like a Hallmark Channel paint-by-numbers romance if Hallmark Channel thought the sex-worker industry could be family-friendly.
Speaking of age suitability, preshow publicity stated, “This musical is suited to be shared with all generations.” I had to question that after the implied oral-sex and slightly less implied piano-sex scenes, but use your own discretion.
Bryan Adams, the hitmaker of “Summer of ’69” and “Heaven,” wrote the songs with Jim Vallance. They have tuneful melodies — a couple I could see myself singing along with on adult-contemporary radio — but the repetitive lyrics often just reiterate what the characters are doing, instead of inspiring the audience to think about the characters’ emotions or motivations.
Adam Pascal brings considerable charm, though not enough to overcome the intrinsic deficiencies, to rich Edward. His voice can soar when passionately unleashed, as in his leading roles in “Rent” and “Aida.” But here, it feels constrained by the material, at least until “You and I,” a second-act winner that deftly weaves in operatic elements — one of the few inspired moments.
His voice blends well with that of Jessie Davidson, who gives Vivian plenty of fire though the character’s awkwardness is more endearing on film than on stage. Davidson shines brightest on the anthemic “I Can’t Go Back,” which does possess the emotional resonance in short supply elsewhere.
Travis Ward-Osborne enlivens things as a sympathetic hotel manager and other roles, Jessica Crouch displays a hard rockin’ voice suitable to the songs as Vivian’s pal, and Trent Soyster adds a few giggles as a perky bellhop.
The ensemble is saddled with director Jerry Mitchell’s basic choreography that doesn’t do anyone any favors.
To get around the thorny issue of sex work, and whether it damages or empowers, the show tries mightily to focus on the idea of “having a dream.” “Don’t fight the dream, invite the dream,” go the lyrics in one such moment reminiscent of a particularly aggressive Disney ad campaign.
But my dream is for theater creators to find better source material — or better yet, come up with something original.