The Marvelous Wonderettes

For all its promotional material about cotton candy–colored dresses, the Gem Theatre's production of The Marvelous Wonderettes is actually quite analogous to a confection. The dancing and singing are a treat to see and hear, thanks to a talented cast and the best set I've ever seen at the Gem. The music is catchy and familiar, and jokes and sight gags keep the audience sated. However, underneath this sweet soundtrack lurk empty calories in the form of a wafer-thin premise.

Obviously the plot is not the selling point, but what keeps the show from being billed as a concert is the story and characters, so these elements invite dissection. The story — what little exists — is lame. Creator Roger Bean introduces us to the dimwitted one (why, yes, she is a blonde), the vampy attention hog, the bossy mousy one (glasses? check), and...the Ethel. Each girl is distinguished by her dress color better than she is by her name: just call 'em Blue, Pink, Orange, and Green. The four are high school frenemies and song leaders, class of '58. Their lives revolve around boys, and when those boys hurt their feelings, they sing away their troubles as the prom-night entertainment while dressed in matching pastel crinoline. At the school's ten-year reunion, the same boys have hurt their feelings again, so the estranged group sings some more, this time wearing marabou-trimmed, neon-bright costumes ostensibly stolen from a drag production of Mamma Mia! In a frankly weird choice, the lighter '50s songs of the first act are chosen to reflect the girls' state of mind, a sort of jukebox-confessional style, whereas in the second act, their very lives have been railroaded to fit the popular songs of the '60s; they've lived each number they sing, word for word. Early mentions of a "Judy" and a "Johnny" lead to the literal scenario described in "It's My Party," a stab at cleverness that makes the women's second-act woes seem like creepily foretold conclusions.

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Defending the Caveman

In the shadow of the lady-quartet musical in the larger space next door, Defending the Caveman enjoys far more modest surroundings. Booking these shows together is an interesting exercise — it's almost as though the glossy Who-ville is incomplete without a Grinch grumbling in his cave on Mt. Crumpet. Yet however amusing, such comparison belies the curious warmth of this one-man show currently in rotation at the Century Theatre.

The short two-act play begins with a wordless video montage, a series of vignettes featuring performer Ben Tedder and his wife. Its content correctly predicts that the show is not about to break new ground in its exploration of the sexes: Man like grill. Woman like shop. Like much of the subject matter covered, the video is cute but predictable. The Rob Becker–penned script puts forward, amid a bare setting generously inspired by cave paintings and the Flintstones, the theory that men and women are still rooted in our hunter-gatherer pasts. As hunters, men focus on one thing (spoiler: it's TV) to the exclusion of anything else; as gatherers, women collect information on their surroundings and make it their business to be aware of everything. It's almost as if men were from Mars, and women from Venus! Given a topic that's been done to death, the production counts on Tedder's performance to sell it, and he wins over the audience with ease.

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A Forbidden Broadway Christmas

A Forbidden Broadway Christmas springs from the Forbidden Broadway mold; if the original was successful, why shouldn't they make money off a Christmas-themed sequel? It's the very kind of business decision creator/writer Gerard Alessandrini would have mocked, had he not made it himself. In its third year at the Gem Theatre, this bastard child of the Broadway machine features spectacular voices paying homage to the genre, even as it bites back with literal and figurative Grinchiness.

The bread and butter of this cabaret-style production is the tunes, favorites spanning decades of Broadway history. Some songs are paired with their respective shows, as in an extended Les Miserables medley, but more unexpected and creative choices are revealed when, for example, Gypsy's "You Gotta Get a Gimmick" is reworded to address the industry's recent puppetry fad. Topics range from Christmas to the economy to more specific barbs aimed at Broadway's producers and divas, but you don't have to know who Cameron Mackintosh is (trust me, I didn't) to appreciate a song about the merchandising craze. Over the course of its two hours, the show does run a few concepts into the ground — yes, okay, Disney is everywhere! — but overall there is a decent balance of Christmas-specific parody along with the Broadway commentary, plus a hefty dose of riotous celebrity impressions for impressions' sake. The material is strong enough that I didn't mind the repetition, and each number offers something that the others don't.

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