Theater: “Sunset Boulevard” @ the St. James Theatre

I’d say that most of us have heard the famous line from the movie “Sunset Boulevard:” We didn’t need dialogue, we had faces.

After seeing the revival of the 1994 play at the St. James Theatre, I would add: “We didn’t need rear-screen projection back then, we had good theater.”

Video and rear-screen protection are everywhere in this production directed by Jamie Lloyd. Sometimes it works very well, particularly when a camera follows Joe Gillis, the screenwriter (played by Diego Andres Rodriguez, subbing for Tom Francis) through his dressing room, down the theater’s stairwells, past his fellow cast members, onto the street, then back onto stage— to kick off Act Two.

But mostly it is a distraction, from what is at heart a soggy, bombastic play, with music by Sir Andrew Lloyd Webber (“Cats” “Evita”) who is adored by millions around the world, and sorry/not sorry, I am not one of them.

This is not to say you won’t have an enjoyable evening or see very good performances. Davis Thaxton is appropriately scary as Max von Mayerling the butler, played by Erich von Stroheim in the movie. Sydney Jones, subbing for Grace Hodgett Young, is lovely and believable as Betty Schaeffer, Joe’s secret love interest.

But casting Nicole Scherzinger of the Pussycat Dolls as Norma Desmond is a mystery. Gloria Swanson’s original characterization of ND, a washed-up silent film star in her 50-ish dotage, turned ND into an aging monster, which made William Holden’s revulsion to her credible. Scherzinger, a young-looking 44, is a hot MILF. What red-blooded hetero male of any age wouldn’t want her?

Nevertheless, ND has the audience wrapped around her buttons #iykyk. Her “As We Never Said Goodbye” is one of the high points of the show. But personally all the arm-waving and hair-tossing belong in a nightclub, not on Broadway. As NYT’s Jesse Green wrote: “you are aware at all times, as if this were Brecht, of the performance as a performance, not as a characterization.”

The costumes by Soutra Gilmour are not only ugly but era-inappropriate. Why is everyone dressed like it’s 2024 when the play is talking about the great age of the silents?

But perhaps I’m the outlier here. Andre Lloyd Webber has made millions doing what he does, and will probably make more from this production which manages to turn the anti-Hollywood cynicism of Billy Wilder’s movie into high camp. If that is your jam, then you’re ready for your closeup.

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