Happy Medium

To write off Happy Medium as unoriginal in music, banal in book, and lackluster in lyrics would be a fair appraisal but it would not be much of a guide to the merits of the show, For Happy Medium, though sabotaged by hopeless material, survives on energy and exuberance alone. It survives at least far into the second act when the production does finally give up the ghost; by that time, however, there have been enough fresh performances and touches to overwhelm the playgoer into an affirmative judgment.

To get the unpleasant over with first, it is enough to say that Jerard Hartman's comedy script is not funny. The idea, an unwary dupe being pushed into campaigning for clean politics, may not be entirely unsullied by past uses, but settling on a fortune teller's haunt as his headquarters does much to brighten the theme. Situation cannot substitute for wit unfortunately, and Hartman seems to have felt his duties over upon conception.

Since the book is not amusing in itself, the one purpose it serves is to set up the musical and production numbers. This is does admirably, only to be crossed by Henry Ziegler's lyrics and Michael Lay's music. Ziegler starts each song with real promise: the words are crisp and the rhymes ingenious; then, just where he needs a punch line on each verse, he rests on his creative oars. The result is insipid lyrics, more annoying because they could shine through to redeem the book.

The tunes would indicate that Lay happened on one sprightly melody and then devoted his time to variation rather than further originality. His only contribution of especial nore is "Clyde Has Turned to Pushing Dalsies Up," and even here, as in most of the numbers, it is the spontaneity of staging which gives the song its high value in entertainment.

Perhaps it is unnecessary to worry overly about the shortcomings of the script. Certainly the cast seems to have shrugged off any misgivings and, for the most of its members, last night's opening was a definite triumph.

Tom Whedon, as the mousey Clyde, did not borrow his characterization from the many stock portrayals of the harried little man. By adding his own gestures and inflections, Whedon produces a likeable blundering, never grating in his blundering. Whedon's clear diction also benefits his singing moments and his numbers, particularly "Caviar and Roses," pretty nearly overcome the given handicaps.

In the female roles, Hugh Fortmiller as the fortune teller and Richard Waldron as her Dagmar daughter are by no means convincing but they are high-spirited, well attuned to the demanding deception, and add much to the show. James Gray as Bert, the newspaper managing editor, though unpadded, is another stand out. Stephen Addiss, William Newlin, and Gordon Martin range from excellent to a competency which isn't worth a quibble.

The dancing is entrusted to Robert Norriss who does a comic solo in the first act and replaces Whedon as Clyde for a ballet scene in the second. Norriss has obvious talents but they gain nothing from his fixed smile--an Amateur Hour expression and indeed the only amateurish thing about Norriss. The ballet, choreographer Dolly Niggemeyer's only misstep, is a trite, dull loss for which the dancers cannot be held responsible. Otherwise, the dancing is attractive and the stage is always lively, seldom cluttered.

If Director Donn Fischer worked out the comic business for the Order of the Mystic Marauders and the song "Lovelorn," he is doubly to be commended. In any event, the whole production showed an authoritative and experienced manipulating hand. David Beer's sets, especially the simple, effective Waterfront, showed this same humorous purpose and skilled execution.

Most people who attend a Pudding show expect hairy-legged chorus lines, gusty performances, and an over-all cheerful raucousness. This year they will find their investment rewarded with all those ingredients in abundance; a top book and score would only be an added dividend which the Pudding this year did not declare.