Theatre in Review: Once (Bernard B. Jacobs Theatre)

When Once opened Off Broadway in December, it immediately became clear, given the critical and audience reaction, that a Broadway transfer was in the offing. But would this singular, small-scale, and deceptively casual fable retain its evanescent charms in a Broadway house? Did it really belong on the same block as Evita, The Lion King, and the upcoming Nice Work If You Can Get It?

It's a relief to report that Once has made the transition with uncommon grace. Again, one has to marvel at how the show's creators have taken such unlikely material -- the semi-improvised 2007 film that stands as Ireland's contribution to the mumblecore movement -- inventively restyling it for the theatre, and, in the process, giving it a soul of its own.

As before, the show traces a few days in the lives of the unnamed Guy and Girl. Fed up with a nonexistent musical career -- having gotten no further than singing on the streets of Dublin -- and scarred by a broken romance, he works with his widowed father, repairing vacuum cleaners, spending his nights in a sad little bedroom above their shop. A chance meeting with a winsome, bluntly honest Czech emigré who shares his passion for music proves to be a life-changing experience. Taken with his obvious talent, she relentlessly coaxes him into recording his songs, convincing him to plan a trip to New York, where he will pursue his music and get back together with the girl who got away. It goes without saying that Guy and Girl fall in love, but she's already married -- if separated from her husband -- and tied to her mother and young daughter. Guy is totally at loose ends, barely able to care for himself, much less another, and is still embroiled in an affair that hasn't really ended. The action follows them as they make the demo disc, aided by a motley collection of their friends, and as they inescapably reach the moment where they must say good-bye.

Unlike every other musical in town, Once achieves its enormous emotional impact through reticence. Some of the most powerful moments in Enda Walsh's libretto are moments of silence, as Guy and Girl struggle with feelings they dare not name, for fear of upsetting the delicate balance of their friendship. It's there in a casual attempt at seduction that goes terribly wrong; in a mutually expressed fantasy about running off to New York together that is abruptly cut off when reality intrudes; and, most poignantly, in a moment when, gazing out at the sea, Girl admits that she loves Guy -- but speaking in Czech, a language he doesn't understand.

Such delicacy is possible because the songs, by Glen Hansard and Markéta Irglova (the stars of the film), reveal so eloquently the feelings that, if spoken out loud, would prove so disruptive. With its elliptical lyrics, the show's marquee number, "Falling Slowly," shouldn't function well in musical theatre terms, but here it becomes the basis of a quietly stunning vignette in which a chance meeting between strangers ends in the recognition that they are soul mates. Other musical highlights include, "Leave," the wounding break-up ballad that opens the show, and "Say It to Me Now," sung when Guy needs to demonstrate his talent to a bank loan officer.

And, as before, Once's power hinges to no small degree on the tremendous chemistry between its lead performers. Steve Kazee's Guy is an unusually compelling portrait of an artist crippled by self-doubts and emotional pain; his singing voice, which is remarkably close to Hansard's in the film, is raw with anguish and need. Cristin Milioti captures Girl's disarming directness, as well as her impatience with anything less than the truth. ("She is the ambassador of honesty," notes Guy at one point, not entirely with admiration.) She's also capable of signaling, with a single look, a startling number of conflicting emotions. Even when Once verges on being a wee bit fey for its own good, their beautifully balanced dance of intimacy keeps it anchored in a solid psychological reality.

This reality is absolutely crucial because the crew of lovable eccentrics surrounding them occasionally threaten to hijack the action with their winsome behavior. This is especially true of the lengthy Act II sequence detailing the recording session, which keeps breaking down in squabbles and diva antics. Time and again, however, the director, John Tiffany, pulls his cast back from the brink. (It's also true that many of Walsh's jokes are very funny.) In any case, there are fine contributions from David Patrick Kelly as Guy's recently widowed father, Anne L. Nathan as Girl's practical mother, Andy Taylor as a sympathetic bank officer, and Paul Whitty as the music store proprietor who yearns for Girl. All of them -- and everyone else in the cast -- are fine musicians, often playing their instruments while taking part in Steven Hoggett's elegantly staged movement sequences. The current company is so ideal that recasting the production -- almost a certain necessity, given its initial reception-- will be a daunting task.

Bob Crowley's curved, low-rise pub setting, covered with mirrors and vintage lighting fixtures, provides an evocative environment for a story that takes place all over Dublin. Natasha Katz's gorgeously melancholy lighting has a cinematic fluidity, moving from full stage washes to carefully carved tableaux with extraordinary grace. Between Once and the recent revival of Follies, Katz is really on a roll this season, providing us with a master class in the technique of lighting musicals with glitz-free expertise. Clive Goodwin's sound design supplies extremely natural reinforcement as well as a variety of effects, including seagulls and ocean waves.

Many have commented in recent seasons that our musicals suffer from a lack of imagination, and Exhibit A in the argument is the preponderance of shows based on hit films. It's true that too many of them are laborious, literal-minded efforts, but Once proves that this need not be so. The miracle of Once is how its creators have given theatrical life to such evanescent material. They haven't adapted Once; they've reinvented it, creating a theatrical language that gives it a life of its own. And in doing so, they have created a small show that packs an enormous wallop.--David Barbour