Theatre in Review: Inventing Mary Martin (York Theatre Company)

	Lynn Halliday, Emily Skinner, Cameron Adams

In some ways, the best thing about Inventing Mary Martin is its title. The show's creators have noticed something that isn't often discussed--that, as opposed to say, Ethel Merman, who basically played the same brassy, wisecracking dame in all of her shows, Mary Martin reinvented herself as an actress and personality about once a decade. The slinky sex kitten of the '30s and '40s gave way to the big-hearted tomboy of the 1950s and, graduating from the convent in The Sound of Music, she spent the rest of her career as the Silent Majority's Sweetheart, a faint odor of sanctity clinging to her until the end. Conceived and written by Stephen Cole, Inventing Mary Martin is subtitled "The Revue of a Lifetime," and it offers a potted biography with an emphasis on her chameleonic nature.

The good news about Inventing Mary Martin is that, in many cases, the obvious choices have been avoided. Martin made her Broadway debut in Cole Porter's Leave It to Me, but her signature tune, "My Heart Belongs to Daddy," is held back in favor of the delightfully deadpan "Most Gentlemen Don't Like Love," a song we can't hear often enough. After that, she was off to Hollywood and a career of no distinction whatsoever; an amusing medley reveals how many "My Heart Belongs to Daddy" knockoffs she was forced to deliver while the movie moguls tried to figure out what to do with her. (A highlight of Justin West's projections is a series of glamour shots that show how the studios tried to remake her in the image of Claudette Colbert, Marlene Dietrich, et al.)

Fleeing the movie factory, Martin retook Broadway--but not by storm. But based on the evidence here, even her flops offered some tasty treats. Emily Skinner offers a charmingly sultry rendition of something called "Swattin' the Fly," from the now-forgotten Dancing in the Streets, while Jason Graae, the evening's emcee and the spunky Cameron Adams offer a lively reading of the comically regretful "I Shoulda Stood in Bed," from Nice Goin', like Dancing in the Street an out of-town closer. Once her stardom is solidified with One Touch of Venus, we see the fruits of her celebrity--an endless procession of magazine covers, product endorsements, and such ephemera as Mary Martin paper dolls and baby dolls.

Martin fans can rest assured that their favorites are included. Skinner delivers a melancholy, moonstruck rendition of "I Got Lost in His Arms," from Annie Get Your Gun, which Martin--not Merman--took on tour. There's a lovely medley, set against projections of starry skies, from Peter Pan. Adams slinks and struts her way through "I'm Gonna Wash That Man Right Out of My Hair." And The Sound of Music is represented by "The Lonely Goatherd," delivered by the company with a cadre of hand puppets, including one of Merman, intruding in her Mama Rose overcoat. (Gypsy may have been Merman's finest hour, but she lost the Tony to Martin. As the ever-philosophical Merm commented, "You can't buck a nun!") Still, it's the slightly less well-known tunes that get the best showcase here. Lynne Halliday gives us a sexy/thoughtful "I'm a Stranger Here Myself" from Venus, and Skinner vamps up "Flaming Agnes," from I Do! I Do!

The latter show was Martin's final hit, and Broadway and the world were passing her by. By the time I Do! I Do! closed in 1968, the great cultural breakup of the '60s had happened and Martin was firmly on the side of the old folks. (If memory serves, in a television special about Martin's taking Hello, Dolly! to the troops in Vietnam, she even cooed over that attractive Gen. William Westmoreland.) Her skill at fashioning for herself new personas that mirrored the national mood seemingly failed her at last. Rather than probe this turn of events, Cole simply cues that long-held-back rendition of "My Heart Belongs to Daddy."

And this is where Inventing Mary Martin disappoints: Having suggested that Martin was far more complex than anyone ever guessed, the show shies away from the details, including her neglectful treatment of her first child, Larry Hagman; her rather odd marriage to Richard Halliday, who managed her life and career; her occasional penchant for diva antics (although we do hear how she drove Noël Coward crazy with her demands during their misbegotten collaboration, Pacific 1860); her years of retirement on a remote ranch in Brazil; and, after Halliday's death, her return to performing, culminating in the calamitous star vehicle, Legends!, with her and Carol Channing, a production so feud- and accident-prone that its author, James Kirkwood, had to write a book about it. (Some of this is touched on, but only glancingly.) There's plenty to be said about the lady, and Inventing Mary Martin doesn't want to get into too much of it.

Also, Cole's narration is sometimes silly and facetious, forcing Graae to push for laughs that aren't really there. Graae is also the victim of the evening's low point, an attempt at recreating a mime sketch created by Jerome Robbins for a television special in the '50s. Titled "The Shape," it featured Martin forcing herself into different ladies' fashions as the decades of the 20th century go by. Seen on YouTube, it charms; watching Graae constantly reshaping his skirt and trying on different hats, you just have to grin and bear it. (His best moment is "Alice is at it Again," a wicked little Coward ditty that was cut from Pacific 1860 because Martin thought it was too risqué.)

Anyway, Inventing Mary Martin looks good, thanks to James Morgan's set, which combines a series of photos and portraits of Martin with screens for West's abundant and evocative projections. Patricia McGourty's evening wear, Mary Jo Dondlinger's lighting, and Janie Bullard's sound design are all solid contributions. Everything about the show is professional, including Bob Richard's choreography and the direction, by Cole and Richard. The only thing that's missing is a star temperament, like Mary Martin's.

If Inventing Mary Martin's charms are on the modest side, they are nevertheless real, and if you see it you will probably learn a thing or two about a legend you thought you knew. As she reminded her own son when he became internationally famous as J.R. Ewing, he might be a star, but his mother was a legend--and she had the Blackgama ad to prove it. That's Mary for you--sweet as pie but not immune to one-upping even her own offspring. They don't make them like that anymore.--David Barbour