© Orange County Register
by Eric Marchese
You might have thought that with "Les Miserables," the world of theater would have had its fill of lavish musicals that revolve around the tumolt of France during either of its revolutions. But darned if Nan Knighton and Frank Wildhorn, in their 1997 musical spectacle "The Scarlet Pimpernel," haven't tapped into something primal in all of us, and come up with that rarity - a rouser that's also sentimental. The show's appeal to patriotism - the kind that demands action to redress the wrongs of misguided bad guys - is certainly well-timed, and well in-synch with recent events on the international scene. But this aside, it's got a solid story at its core - one which, magnified by Wildhorn's songs, gets all the sweep and grandeur it deserves in Musical Theatre West's production at the Carpenter Performing Arts Center. It is the height of the French Revolution, and Robespierre and bands of angry citizens are seeing to it that anyone connected with the upper classes will have a date with the guillotine. Amid the mayhem, new romance blooms for France's greatest actress, Marguerite St. Just (Kim Huber). She has fallen for and English nobleman, Sir Percy Blakeney (Michael DeVries). After a brief courtship, she announces that she and Sir Percy are to be wed. But Marguerite has a jealous former lover to contend with - the brooding Chauvelin (Roger Befeler), a fervent revolutionary and the right hand of Robspierre. Shortly after he and Marguerite are married at his country home in England, Sir Percy learns that, back in Paris, a French aristocrat and close friend has been betrayed and he and his family murdered. More troubling for Sir Percy is that his new wife is the only person who could have revealed the man's location to the revolutionaries. The now-disillusioned Sir Percy begins surveillance of Marguerite. By the time the revolution begins to number anyone who opposes it as its potential victims, Sir Percy and his upper-class pals form a secret league to infiltrate Parisian society and conduct what he calls "a private war" on the Reign of Terror. Sir Percy, however, wants his opposition to know that someone - or something - is behind his acts, so he uses his family crest, a scarlet pimpernel, as a brand. The red English seaside flower, he points out to his friends, is symbolic: "It's small, and easily overlooked." It isn't likely that "The Scarlet Pimpernel" could capture the imagination if its story merely concerned attacks by the league upon the terrorists and attempts by Chauvelin and his men to root out the league's members and destroy them. The Baroness Emmuska Orczy, the Hungarian noblewoman who wrote "The Scarlet Pimpernel" after moving to London in the late 19th century, invested her story with the passion of those on both sides of the French Revolution. More critically, though, the crux of "The Scarlet Pimpernel" is the troubled marriage of Sir Percy and Marguerite, and how the tide of history overtakes their once-idyllic love. The ruthless Chauvelin, still in love with Marguerite, has blackmailed her into assisting him. He enlists her to help him expose the league led, unbeknownst to her, by her own husband. So "Pimpernel" becomes a "pas de trois" among these three characters, each trying to spy upon, out maneuver and corner the other two. Their complex interactions are defined by the tense song that closes the first act, as the three characters swirl around on stage in a private dance with deadly consequences. To distill any suspicion that he might be connected with the league, Sir Percy goes out of his way to convince Marguerite and Chauvelin that he's a poofy, dandified fop. Knighton's Libretto carries a few too many scenes meant to pound this point home, including an entire lavish musical number, "The Creation of Man," in which Sir Percy and his league buddies prance about like peacocks in bright costumes so that no one will suspect them of being counter-terrorist agents. When it focuses on the struggle in France and the tension among Sir Percy, Marguerite and Chauvelin, "The Scarlet Pimpernel" earns its stripes. Orczy adds to the story's intrigue when she creates the character of Grappan, the shady Belgian who assists Chauvelin in his attempts to destroy the league. Grappan, of course, is a heavily disguised Sir Percy, and we can take delight whenever the snarling Chauvelin sends Grappan off to, in effect, spy on himself. Director Wayne Bryan and his sizeable, expert cast give this staging the energy it needs, without overplaying the material. Musical director Michael Borth and choreographer Julie Letsche are inspired by Wildhorn's richly varied score, producing one striking musical number after another. The chorus is strong and accomplished, and the supporting roles are well-cast - especially John B. Williford as Marguerite's brother, his loyalties torn between sis and Sir Percy; and Paul Grant as Sir Percy's chief lieutenant. It's DeVries, Huber and Befeler, though, who carry the production, and all three are superb. Tall and fair, with a beautiful tenor, Broadway veteran DeVries is credible as a man of means motivated to heroism in a time of crisis, shrewd enough to pretend to be, in his words, "a silly ass." Huber portrays a lightly French Marguerite of both delicacy and strength - a woman whose cultured faŤade covers currents of desperation. Her climactic number, the powerfully sad "I Will Forget You," epitomizes the soulful center of "Pimpernel." Chauvelin isn't a cut-and-dried boo-hiss villain, and Befeler delivers a complicated man driven, on one hand, to pursue his enemies in the most bitter strife and, on the other, by his lovesickness for Marguerite. Jane Greenwood's costume design is never lacking; even more impressive is Andrew Jackness' scenic design, a combination of impressive flats with modular components that capture equally well the soft, pastoral English countryside and the bright grittiness of the French Revolution, the Place de la Bastille.
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