It's Delovely

ANYTHING GOES was before our time -- 1943 to be exact -- but who cares? The less quibbling about the insertion of Cole Porter songs from other shows and the fewer praises for Ethel Merman, the better. Take the references to the WPA, the Depression and Prohibition as camp antiques or anachronisms, but take them. At Leverett House, anything goes, and almost everything goes well.

In Anything Goes, Billy Crocker, sometime employee of the wealthy Mr. Elisha Whitney, comes to the liner to see off his boss and the evangelist-turned-torch singer, Reno Sweeney. Finding that Hope Harcourt, the love of his life, is aboard ship, Billy decides to travel, too. When Moonface Martin, travelling with submachine gun in violin case as the Reverend Doctor Moon, provides Billy with a ticket and berth, more problems are created than solved. The ticket belonged to Public Enemy Number 1, who never showed for the voyage; now everyone is chasing after Billy, who becomes sailor, chef and old woman to escape arrest. In between costume changes, he tries to woo Hope from her fiance, Sir Evelyn (Evelyn?!) Oakleigh. Amid the antics which follow, Billy is feted as the boat's resident celebrity, and jailed as an impostor, Reno discovers (although I can't say where) the charms of Sir Evelyn, and true love triumphs. At Leverett House, the slightly lagging pace of the first act pulled the thin plot till it nearly ripped, but it hardly mattered--anything goes.

FOR MAKING what was lacking in plot irrelevant and what was there delightful, credit goes to conductor, cast and director. The overture, written and orchestrated by conductor Dean Herington, gathered the best of the tunes into a lyrical bouquet; Herington's tiny orchestra was amazingly equal to the task of blowing Gabriel's horn and other feats. Whether squealing in her best New York accent or rousing the company with a Heaven Hop, Lise Landis is the tops as Moonface's gun moll. Playing the frocked gangster, Bill Nolan displays a hilarious good-hearted gooniness. Ann Ungar is an entertainer playing an entertainer; though she is sometimes a little too charming, she's splendid as Reno. As Billy and Hope, Richard von Rueden and Kerry McCarthy sing well, but the shallowness of the female lead at least can't be entirely the fault of the authors -- McCarthy looked completely disinterested through the whole show.

With the help of his set designer and choreographers, director Ken Kanter has made everything go. It seems incredible that the handkerchief stage of Leverett should represent a steamship, but Michael Herter's set offers Cunard luxury -- a gangway, two decks, three staterooms. The direction of Kanter and his choreographers -- Michael Ricardo, Lise Landis and Michael Collapy -- creates out of the small cast the impression of an extravaganza; their next goal should be precision.

I have to admit that at any given time, half the chorus looked bored or bewildered. The whole company looked distraught for the clattering first act finale. They really do need to count the beats -- but must their concentration show?

Fortunately, chorus ennui is no match for Cole Porter's music, the flashy tap dancing, and the extravagance of Chery1 Marynell's satin and slink costumes. Heaven knows -- everyone go.