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Tyke in tow or not, the first thing to do is get over the fact that The Lion King is only telling a Saturday morning cartoon story. Then you just might let yourself become a kid again, glorying in a spectacle that is part Cirque du Soleil, part Barnum & Bailey menagerie, and all enchanting wonder. The lengthy run of The Lion King at the Providence Performing Arts Center (through December 4) will give those interested plenty of time to find out what all the fuss has been about for the past eight years on Broadway. The grown-up imaginations behind this innovative musical clearly had more in mind than to drop our jaws — all theatrical stops have been pulled out to their limits, but that’s to involve us deeper in this simple morality tale. The 1994 Disney animation sketched out the characters and the story, both of which have been fleshed out here. Our young hero is the lion Simba (played on press night by Trevor Jackson as a cub and later by S.J. Hannah), heir apparent to rule the animal community that surrounds Pride Rock. His father, Mufasa (Thomas Corey Robinson), is killed in a stampede caused by his uncle, Scar (Dan Donohue), who makes Simba think he was to blame for the death. The cub chooses exile and is adopted by two jolly friends, warthog Pumbaa (Ben Lipitz) and meerkat Timon (John Plumpis), whom he joins in play — learning to eat insects instead of mammals — until he’s grown. Contrasting menace, scary but jocular, is provided by three laughing hyenas who become Scar’s lieutenants when he takes over. After a heartfelt if perfunctory dark night of the soul (the animation didn’t see a need for "Endless Night"), Simba returns to his sweetheart Nala (Alexandra Nicole Waye, Adrienne Muller) and to triumph over his evil uncle. But the real hero of The Lion King is Julie Taymor. She not only conceived and directed the adaptation but also created the mask and puppet design (with Michael Curry) and the costumes. They merge into spectacular visual effects that round out what had been two-dimensional, in both story and characters. The success of Taymor’s efforts wasn’t inevitable, since the adaptation was accomplished by committee, in customary Hollywood fashion. Three writers are credited with lifting this off the screen — that’s in addition to Roger Allers and Irene Mecchi, who did the book. Although Elton John and Tim Rice get first billing for music and lyrics, four others — including Taymor — are listed as providing additional music and lyrics. (The pumped-up Muzak, however, can’t be rescued.) Fortunately for us, all contributions are at the service of Taymor’s remarkable visual imagination. Even Garth Fagan’s rhythmic, charged choreography often takes its cue from what we are seeing: what can dancers as grassland do but sway? The skillful spectacle begins impressing us soon after the show starts, but not right away. First the scene is set by a human being, the griot Rafiki (Phindile Mkhize), who chatters and clicks at us for a while in Zulu and Swahili — the length and language of that introduction informs us that what’s about to unfold is a theatrical more than a literal story. And then the magic begins: down the aisles as well as across the stage parade wondrous animal/actor chimeras. A stilt giraffe walks on extended forearms as well as legs, its long neck and head a tall headdress. A row of women in white, with white birds perched on their arms, reminds us of those vast veldt-sprawling flocks we’ve seen in nature documentaries. A sleek cheetah is composed of a sleek woman at the hind legs, her head movements in synch with a puppet-cheetah head attached to hers by wires. Such ingenuity. When Mufasa and Scar stand erect, their lion masks sit atop their heads; when they lean and slink forward in threat, the masks arch before them gracefully on rods. The cleverest mask/costume combinations of all are the hyenas, as punk menace merges with the feral: the tuft of black fur that runs down the spine of actual hyenas here passes over the otherwise bald heads of the actors, providing them mohawks! Those close enough get to see the expressive faces of those speaking; how prominently depends on the role: for Timon the meerkat, the actor is neon-jungle-green behind the bunraku puppet he manipulates with subtle precision. The Lion King is a must-see for every theater-lover. We get to be amazed at the wizards behind the screens.
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Issue Date: October 28 - November 3, 2005 Back to the Theater table of contents |
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