Theatre in Review: Leap of Faith (St. James Theatre)

The word on Leap of Faith, which got mixed-to-negative reviews, is that it is sentimental and predictable. The titles The Music Man and 110 in the Shade were bandied about in many a review, and for good reason. The major plot elements in the new musical are a dishonest preacher; a Kansas town suffering from drought; a fetching, if tough-minded, lady sheriff; and her crippled adolescent son. If you can't tell how this one is going to end, the last musical you saw was Hitchy-Koo of 1919.

But if Leap of Faith has a preordained destination, it takes a very unusual route to get there, one that, for most of its running time, makes very few concessions to the standard sentimental conventions of musical theatre. And, given its end-of-season competition, it earns points for attempting something more complex and adult than the norm.

The first interesting note is struck in the show's choice of leading man. Leap of Faith is based on a Steve Martin film vehicle, in which his clownish style made it instantly clear that we were meant to see the character of Jonas Nightingale as a lovable rogue, if one badly in need of redemption. The same role, in the hands of Raúl Esparza, yields very different results. One of the musical theatre's more astringent personalities -- his one attempt at being warm and cuddly, in Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, was an unmitigated disaster -- his Jonas is a cold and canny creature, all but daring you to call him out as he is passing the basket for faith contributions. It's a near-brilliant choice -- rather than satirize the cheesy theatrical gestures so popular with the Joel Osteens of this world, he dispenses with them altogether, making it easier for us to see how audiences of hicks are taken in by his "authenticity."

When not performing for the rubes, Esparza's Jonas isn't any more likeable, and, interestingly, the other members of his traveling vaudeville show make no apology for their collective skill at conning the faithful and gullible. (The libretto, by Janus Cercone and Warren Leight, is populated with characters for whom professionalism, not piety, is the thing.) This is especially evident in the performance of Kendra Kassebaum -- a former Galinda from Wicked, no less -- as Jonas' sister and partner in crime. She's the one who feeds him, via earpiece, the information that the company members have gleaned about the locals, making him look like he has the gift of prophecy. Her cynical commentary further highlights the moral bankruptcy of this revival show. Given a current Broadway scene so Christ-haunted that, if she were alive today, Flannery O'Connor would probably be clicking on Broadway.com, the show's skeptical attitude toward Jonas' salvation-for-cash operation is rather refreshing.

And when emotional complications arrive in the form of Jessica Phillips as that lady sheriff, our expectations are, once again, happily overturned. She's a notably cool customer who first tries to run Jonas out of town, then agrees to a one-night stand, provided that he doesn't stick around longer than three days. She appears to be motivated more by the man shortage in her corner of Kansas than by any legal considerations or emotional needs; the net result is to set her up as a more-than-worthy antagonist to Jonas. Even Talon Ackerman, as her 13-year-old son, confined to a wheelchair since the accident that killed his father, plays against type, rejecting any invitation to easy tears.

Furthermore, Glenn Slater, the lyricist, and Alan Menken, the composer, have challenged themselves to write songs with some real ambition in them. "Lost," delivered by Kecia Lewis-Evans, as the head of Jonas' "Angels of Mercy" gospel choir, lays out in detail the lies -- many of them seemingly benign -- told by each of the major characters. "Are You On the Bus?," sung by Krystal Joy Brown, as Lewis-Evans' daughter, when there is rebellion in the revival's ranks, broadens to update us on the status of all the principals as they converge on a revival meeting where a major miracle is expected to take place. Other highlights of the score include "Fox in the Henhouse" and "I Can Read You," a pair of duets for Jonas and Marla, the sheriff; "Rise Up," which introduces the revival and features a tent being erected on stage (a neat bit of stage magic from the set designer, Robin Wagner, and the choreographer, Sergio Trujillo); and "Jonas's Soliloquy," for when events finally overtake him and he must take a long, unlovely look in the mirror.

The song also marks the point where Leap of Faith runs into major trouble. Having found a way to make us interested in the fates of these amoral, cynical, emotionally guarded folk, the creators are faced with the dilemma of providing some kind of conventional happy ending. The result is a barrage of mixed messages. The show climaxes with two apparent miracles (one would be enough of a stretch), leading to a kind of domino effect of changes of heart, some of which simply beggar belief. Then, having introduced the possibility of divine information, libretto shies away from it as quickly as possible. Spoiler alert: This have-it-all-ways approach is exposed glaringly in the finale. If Jonas has given up his swindling ways to start life anew in Kansas, as he tells us, why is he on the stage of the St. James Theatre, as the show would have it, accompanied by his Angels of Mercy, telling us his story? It's easy to wonder if we're not simply caught up in another con.

In any case, under the direction of Christopher Ashley, the cast works hard and honestly. Esparza gives the show a caffeine jolt every time he enters, turning Jonas' anger and self-hatred into variety entertainment in such numbers as "King of Sin." Phillips' Marla makes a fine antagonist, staring at Jonas with a gimlet eye even as she leans in for a kiss; she's also totally at home with the score's country music style. Even when saddled with a weakish number about her tragic childhood, Kassebaum never asks for an ounce of sympathy; it's a very striking performance. Lewis-Evans and Brown make a formidable pair of mother-and-daughter Angels, and Leslie Odom, Jr. scores as the divinity student who shows up to off-ramp them -- his mother and sister -- from the road to perdition.

In terms of production, this may be the most no-frills musical on Broadway; aside from the revival tent, Wagner's set design amounts to a few stage wagons showing such mundane locales as a Motel 6 and Marla's office; there's a strong opening tableau depicting the revival's bus stopped at an Arco station. Don Holder's lighting, William Ivey Long's costumes, and John Shivers' sound design all make smoothly professional contributions. Shawn Sagady is on board as projection coordinator, which, in this case, apparently means the live video cameras that deliver the revival scenes to flat-panel screens located in the house.

Given its long gestation, and the number of creative hands that have left their fingerprints on this property, it's fair to say that Leap of Faith is yet another film that defies successful adaptation to the Broadway musical stage. But, if it doesn't totally succeed, it's a far more interesting piece than other, more shamelessly audience-baiting entertainments out there. Even if gets a little tongue-tied at times, it still has something to say. --David Barbour