Performance

Gary Tischler • July 27, 2016

This year’s Smithsonian Folklife Festival starts June 29 and wraps around the Fourth of July.

Gary Tischler •

You can bet that by now, Chris Mann knows exactly Dorothy feels. He’s definitely not in Kansas any more …

Gary Tischler •

This Montgomery County production of the Andrew Lloyd Webber favorite runs through July 24.

Gary Tischler •

Seeing (and hearing) the Ford’s Theatre production of “110 in the Shade,” the gem of a musical about a lonely, longing and strong woman living in a small western town in the 1940s, you’re reminded of a lot of things. There’s “The Rainmaker,” the original play by N. Richard Nash, which became a 1956 film, a star vehicle for Burt Lancaster and Katharine Hepburn. That was followed by this Broadway musical, written by Nash with music and lyrics by Harvey Schmidt and Tom Jones (the songwriter, not the singer), respectively.

You think, too, about the most recent production of “Oklahoma,” directed by Molly Smith, which opened the new spacious space at Arena Stage.

In the end though, this production, which runs through May 14, will remind you of nothing but its own original and engaging self. And whether or not it improves on its predecessors (there have been a few) is not really an issue. Like the heroine of the show, the undefeated and emotionally urgent Lizzy Curry, acted and sung with force, humor, charm and range by Tracy Lynn Olivera, “110 in the Shade” has many qualities and attractions that make it worth a visit.

When the show opens on a vista of the bleak, flat landscape of a small Texas town, where a water tower and windmill are the vertical highlights, you almost except to hear Curly from “Oklahoma” singing “Oh, What a Beautiful Mornin’.” But this isn’t the confident tone of a state rushing into the future, it’s a small, hardscrabble Texas town in the 1940s, where it hasn’t rained in forever and the natives are restless and the first order of business is the town people acknowledging that it’s “Gonna Be Another Hot Day.”

It’s the menfolk and town folk doing the talking and singing right off, the Curry men especially, the energetic but challenged young Jimmy, his stern older brother Noah and H.C., the leader of this clan. Meandering through town is Sheriff File, a study in good-natured reticence. And there’s Lizzie, come back from a trip to a neighboring town, alone again, naturally.

Her father and brothers are worried about her, afraid that she’s going to end up a spinster or an old maid, which, in times past, was a fate worse than death for women. She’s already been rejected by Sheriff File, who’s nursing old wounds and calls himself a widower (when the fact of the matter is that his wife left him).

Into this dry, desultory and emotionally barren setting comes Starbuck, a con man with a portable full of dreams, music and a promise to bring rain to the parched community — and love to Lizzie. Lizzie, yearning with a big heart and bristling with attitude, isn’t convinced, because she still has her eyes on the reluctant and emotionally detached sheriff, but she’s also swept up and dazzled because Starbuck makes her feel beautiful, which, in her many own ways, she is.

This material, small in geography, but big in the way it nevertheless resonates for contemporary audiences (where spinsters and old maids are long forgotten concepts), seems, years later, fresh after the fact. With Lancaster and his eager, brawny, trapeze artist physicality and Hepburn at her most flinty transforming to a swan in the hot sun, this was great movie material, but also a fantasy.

This production has aspects of wish fulfillment to it, but it comes alive because of the marvelous singing and voices, because — even though it’s not “Oklahoma” — the music and songs are top-drawer, given that they’re authored by the duo that started out with the long-running “The Fantasticks,” especially when sung by a cast like this. With Olivera, you get a full bodied performance, a voice that makes your hair stand on end right from the start with “Love Don’t Turn Away,” and an absolutely believable character, letting you have everything she’s got: courage, humor, sexiness, warmth and smarts. You see what Starbuck sees, a meteor of a woman, but you also see the wary woman who fears a broken heart.

When Kevin McAllister ambles on stage walking like a Western town sheriff — a little John Wayne, a little king of the neighborhood, all nonchalance — to lend his voice, it’s like a revelation. You can probably hear the vibration out in the street.

As Starbuck, Ben Crawford is a different kettle of tea altogether; the guy could use an electric guitar to add to his identity as rock star. This is not Burt Lancaster, this is a little Ziggie Stardust, a little Chrissy Hynde, even. He’s over the top with promise, a circus barker, sure, but more than that. He’s like the guy that brings the fireworks to the picnic and hope to the tent meeting.

Watch, too, for Bridget Riley as a loose-limbed Snookie Updegraff, who’s a fine match for Gregory Maheu as Jimmy, the Curry family baby.

“110 in the Shade” doesn’t overpower you. But it does sneak up on, like a bag of gifts that actually has stuff in it, that stuff being a heart and a brain and some courage. For director and choreographer Marcia Milgrom Dodge, it’s a terrific accomplishment, pulling all the considerably and seemingly frayed and shopworn threads of the show together into something almost gossamer.