Wit, humor, charm, and a brassy flavor: Alan Ray Lerner’s “My Fair Lady” has it all.
The magic begins as soon as the lights leave the stage. We are immediately transported to the 1900s: Socialites and their escorts prance about the scene, hailing taxis and clutching elegant umbrellas. The men and women alike don their suede pea coats with the sleeves finely pressed. The women click across the theater in delicate, cream heels. They are dressed also in all white apparel. Everything is completely laden in white, from the lacey, graceful dresses that twirl about their heels to the playful ribbons in their curls.
We welcome Eliza Doolittle, played by Jillian Kates, to the stage. She masquerades in a raggedy frock, dark muddled brown in color. Her wild, curly hair is tied back in a brownish, grey hat, and her raspy manly voice reaches the audience, begging those chorus members around her to buy her purple flowers. These flowers are the only delicate thing about her. Unlike the ladies, Eliza dons working boots of a russet essence instead of glittery, white heels. In this, Lerner juxtaposes the sophistication that surrounds the ladies that hail the taxis to the utter naiveté and unpolished Eliza. Jillian Kates’ character creation of Eliza is the type of bum anyone would cross the street to avoid. Her obnoxious, indecipherable cockney accent makes the diction hard to translate, and the audience finds themselves leaning closer to comprehend her meaning. Therefore, Kates does Eliza justice in that she properly portrays the distinction Lerner intends between the socialites and the raggedy flower maiden.
Alternatively, a reoccurring symbol throughout Lerner’s masterpiece is the taxi motif. As the audience can see from the very beginning, the refined young women never seem to walk. Their escorts hail them taxis, and this seems to be how Lerner defines a sophisticated, young socialite. Eliza professes on numerous occasions that she would love to one day be a lady in a taxi. This signifies that it stands as a fundamental characterization of all that a lady should aspire to become. Contrariwise, Lerner might also be offering some perspective, implying that this aspect is as frivolous as it sounds.
Regardless, the theme of how to define a lady is prevalent throughout both the music and dialogue. The music is a broad example of how Lerner professes his sophisticated accord. Frederick Loewe’s orchestration of the ensemble was extraordinary. The quirky appeal in the song, “With a Little Bit of Luck,” had the audience doubled over in laughter. The combination of a flamboyant, minimalistic choreography performed by M.A.Taylor (Alfred P. Doolittle) created an entrancing prelude to an enjoyable and relatable song. Taylor’s quirky, feminine dancing adds the middle ground between the rowdy, bawdy, and bold strides. Likewise, the actors’ dancing would drastically change each time the music adopted a different flare. For example, the song would have a brief interlude in which the music would swell and the actors would sway in broad, crude motions and jumping. Then, the music would diminish to a tiny, almost whispering chime as a more refined approach took over the dance. This clash between polite, curt and sophisticated steps to dignify the aristocracy and clunky, harsh, and unrefined stomps for the common people appears in many of this musical’s songs. Therefore, the music in this rendition of “My Fair Lady” also juxtaposes the difference between the two choruses and their financial input.
So, money, of course, also plays an important role, which can appear evident through costumes and much of the plot. For instance, the women parade in fancy attire for most of the musical. Eliza and the other bar wenches were the only “ladies” without beautiful, gold trimmed costumes. Additionally, Eliza’s father tried to sell her to the linguistic professor, Mr. Higgins. Doolittle asks for five pounds, no more and no less. The way he asks lends a bit of insight to his character. Taylor clearly portrays his character as knowing that he should not be selling his daughter but does it anyways. He shows up to the Professor’s office with a scarlet lipstick mark on his cheek, which indirectly characterizes him as “not all there.” The professor offers him more, but Doolittle refuses to take anything more than for what he asked.
This underlying theme of money hides behind the glittery jewels and extravagant dress. This is evident once again during the scenes with the aristocracy. For instance, when they have the horserace, all the women display their apparel in an almost pageant like experience. There were seven women who all wore differently styled white gowns. These gowns were all of lace and they each held a small, glittery white clutch. These ladies also showed off their unique headbands. Each headband was different and elegantly styled atop a tight stack of curls. The men, likewise, wore grey, finely pressed suits and held spectacles to better see the races. For this occasion of song, the diction was heavily articulated with civil and courteous waltzing. The music rose no higher than a mezzo forte in volume, which contrasts with the dance-fighting of the other chorus.
This civility and sophistication is also palpable in the ball scene, where a gorgeous, crystal chandelier was lowered and sparkled under the bright lights. The chorus assembled in their gossamer gowns, diamond encrusted necklaces, and dangling gemstone earrings. Eliza herself, fully reformed, slips into elbow-length cream gloves, an exquisite diamond tiara, and a chic fur jacket. All ladies’ hair was distinctly pulled back into perfect, heavily hair sprayed, tightly curled locks. This extravagance further expressed Lerner’s evocation of dignity, grace, and the aristocracy.
“My Fair Lady” is a dazzling experience.
Wouldn’t it be loverly to get tickets before they sell out?
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