‘ Paris’ is en pointe
Ballet dancers twirl & sing Gershwin classics in new musical
A N airy, gentle caress of a show, “An American in Paris” is a welcome oddity on Broadway.
Based on Vincente Minnelli’s 1951 movie of the same name and boasting a score loaded with even more Gershwin songs, this musical stars two classically trained dancers — Robert Fairchild, on leave from New York City Ballet, and Leanne Cope, from the UK’s Royal Ballet — directed by dancer turned choreographer Christopher Wheeldon.
What those three bring to the Palace Theatre is often swooningly beautiful.
The downside of this elegance is that when the production needs pep and razzmatazz, it’s in short supply.
The scene is 1945 Paris, where Fairchild’s Jerry Mulligan, an ex-GI, has remained because he wants to be a painter. After falling fast and hard for Lise Dassin ( Cope) — a lovely French shopgirl who dreams of a career as a ballerina — Jerry discovers that art, life and love are inextricably intertwined.
Framing the central romance are subplots involving Jerry’s friends: sardonic composer Adam Hochberg ( Brandon Uranowitz, in young Woody Allen mode) and an aspiring cabaret star, Henri Baurel ( Max von Essen). Henri struggles to keep his singing a secret from his straightlaced, wealthy parents, who want him to carry on the family business and marry Lise. Craig Lucas’ book turns heavyhanded where all that’s concerned, though Veanne Cox is humorously dry as Henri’s mother.
Thanks to Bob Crowley’s gorgeous costumes and sets, which make good use of moving scrims, as well as 59 Productions’ animated projections, Paris becomes a recovering city ready to start fostering new loves — especially for Jerry and Lise.
“Dance with me!” he begs her, and off they go, getting lost in each other and choreographed reveries.
The lithe Fairchild trades the exuberant, muscular physicality of Gene Kelly, who starred in the movie, for a liquid grace and easygoing charisma.
He also sings surprisingly well, having enough breath left after countless pirouettes to perform “I’ve Got Beginner’s Luck” and “Fidgety Feet” with casual ease. And Cope, her gamine face framed by a Louise Brooks bob, is lovely, strength underlying her seeming vulnerability. Her vocals on “The Man I Love” are as clean as her extensions, which is saying something.
When those two are onstage, they make you believe in love — and the power of dance — all over again.