Theatre in Review: The Last Five Years (Hudson Theatre)

	Adrienne Warren, Nick Jonas. Photo: Mathew Murphy.

Rising novelist Jamie Wallerstein and aspiring musical theatre star Cathy Hiatt -- can their marriage be saved? Clearly, no. The Last Five Years begins with their breakup; it ends that way, too. In the time-bending structure of Jason Robert Brown's musical -- really, a song cycle -- the story of Jamie and Cathy moves simultaneously in two directions. His numbers trace their relationship from beginning to end; hers begin on the day it ends for good, moving backward in time. They meet in the middle, on their wedding day, an event that, given all we know, carries a profoundly melancholy undertone.

This is the third production of The Last Five Years -- an aching tale of love, loss, and ambition, thwarted and otherwise -- to be seen in New York since its 2002 Off-Broadway premiere. As this revival shows, Brown -- author of the book, music, and lyrics -- leaves enough room for actors and directors to offer fresh insights into what goes wrong between Jamie and Cathy. Original cast members Norbert Leo Butz and Sherie Rene Scott were a notably sharp-elbowed pair, their egos frequently jousting. Adam Kantor and Betsy Wolfe created a couple unabashedly in love, watching happiness slip through their fingers. At the Hudson, the highly accomplished Nick Jonas and Adrienne Warren strike a new and interesting note of ambivalence. In Whitney White's well-observed staging, Jamie and Cathy see what they need to see in each other, not necessarily what is really there.

Brown's songs are often scratchy, snarky, and bursting with New York attitude, but they can stop one cold with moments of breathtaking insight. And nobody else writing theatre music today plumbs such deep notes of love and regret. The key number here is "If I Didn't Believe in You." Jamie is ready to leave for a book launch party, but Cathy, depressed and resentful, her career stuck somewhere between neutral and reverse, silently refuses to come along. They are a major crisis point: Communication has broken down, and battle lines are being drawn. Jamie, making a last-ditch effort, tries to cheer her up, albeit with more than a touch of frustration. ("If I didn't believe in you/We wouldn't have gotten this far/If I didn't believe in you/And all of the ten thousand women you are.") In the earlier productions, Butz and Kantor each offered heartfelt pleas and steadfast shows of support. With Jonas, it seems a two-edged sword; consider the following lines: "If I didn't think you could do/Anything you ever wanted to/If I wasn't certain that you'd come through somehow/The fact of the matter is, Cathy/I wouldn't be standing here now." For the first time, it occurred to me that Cathy possibly hears those words very differently, that Jamie is saying he can't love a failure, and that the song is more an ultimatum than a promise. And so, a marriage that has already eroded badly begins to crack open.

Suddenly, the reason for the divide is manifest: Jamie, secretly yearning to be part of a power couple, wants a co-star for a wife. Cathy, who often feels abandoned by her self-absorbed, success-happy spouse, wants to know that their love is unconditional. Sadly, she can never be sure of that. Sooner or later, something's got to give.

All night long, the stars find fresh notes in some of the best theatre songs of the last 25 years. Jonas finds the transgressive joy in "Shiksa Goddess" (If you had a tattoo, that wouldn't matter/If you had a shaved head, that would be cool/If you came from Spain or Japan/Or the back of a van/Just as long as you're not from Hebrew school") and the reckless abandon of youthful success in "Moving Too Fast," about the sale of his first novel. He does extremely well by the thorny, difficult "The Schmuel Song," a parable concocted by Jamie to spark Cathy's ambitions. And he offers an unsparing rendition of "Nobody Needs to Know," when Jamie intentionally commits the betrayal that he knows will destroy his marriage.

At first glance, Adrienne Warren is slightly problematic casting, simply because, with her lustrous chest tones and a belt that lands high on the Richter scale, one would expect producers to be falling over themselves to sign up Cathy. (This is known as the Liza Minnelli problem; many people insist that her Sally Bowles is too talented to end up in a third-rate Berlin dive.) But she brings to the role an open face, an appealing vulnerability, and a delightful sense of humor, all of which prove useful. This is especially true in "Climbing Uphill," which tracks her flood of negative thoughts during a series of auditions. ("I'm up ev'ry morning at six/And standing in line/With two hundred girls/Who are younger and thinner than me/Who have already been to the gym.") The mere sight of Warren entering the audition room with a number on her chest speaks volumes about the thousand-and-one humiliations of the casting process. She has a comic triumph in "A Summer in Ohio," detailing the dubious joys of summer stock, which, in this case, include "a gay dentist named Karl/Playing Tevye and Porgy." She makes a rattling good time out of "I Can Do Better Than That," a glimpse into the spunky, lively young woman Jamie falls for.

I've seen productions of The Last Five Years in which the numbers are performed as solos, but White frequently brings the actors onstage as silent foils for their partners. It's a decision that deepens some numbers yet doesn't minimize the impact of "The Next Ten Minutes," a heartbreakingly tender moment shared on Jamie and Cathy's wedding night. Indeed, White never puts a foot wrong in guiding the characters to the final emotional knockout punch of "Goodbye Until Tomorrow/I Could Never Rescue You"), which encapsulates all the promise and sorrow of a love that is very real and yet not enough for these two bright, talented, complex young people.

The Last Five Years is a tough show to design -- it unfolds over many locations yet resists anything too naturalistic -- but White has gotten elegant work from her team. David Zinn puts the orchestra (playing Brown's attractively expanded arrangements) on a second level at stage right (lined in LED tape and featuring a lightbulb-covered ceiling), then brings on just enough scenery -- a suggestion of an office, a bit of a bodega flower shop, a hotel bed -- to clarify where the characters are. The New York mini-skyline is an especially felicitous touch, as is the upstage wall of lightbulbs. Stacey Derosier makes good use of the latter, also cannily keeping the stars in different colors of lighting -- deep warm amber for her, cool white/icy blue for him -- in addition to expertly shaping and pacing each number; this is some of her best work to date. Dede Ayite's costumes are suitable and attractive, especially Cathy's wedding gown. Cody Spencer's sound design achieves an ideal transparency, which is especially important given the quality of Brown's lyrics.

I suppose in the scheme of Brown's career, a two-hander like this might be considered a relatively minor work. But if more musicals had the brains, wit, and emotional power of The Last Five Years, this would be a much happier world. A flop in its initial production, it has shown a staying power far more lasting than the troubled relationship at its broken heart.--David Barbour