Published: May 8, 2007
There are lots of reasons why I had a great time at the infectiously dopey new musical, Legally Blonde, and the show's dogs are two of them. One adorable dog in a Broadway show is understandable. Two looks like carelessness. But not here—not in Legally Blonde, the show that takes no prisoners.Based on the hit 2001 movie, it's quite famously about Elle Woods, the blond sorority queen from Malibu who's—Omigod!—dumped by her socially ambitious boyfriend and follows him with her cute little dog dressed in matching pink outfits to Harvard Law School, where—Omigod!—she graduates as class valedictorian and learns that shopaholic blondes can have it all.
Legally Blonde's dogs are like the exuberant, good-natured show itself: a bit shameless and somehow exactly right. The ironically named Bruiser, a frisky Chihuahua, is Elle's lap dog. I think Bruiser is a Chihuahua. When it comes to dogs, there are times when I don't know my chi from my huahua. The second dog, Rufus, is definitely a bulldog. I used to have one. It ate all the furniture. The smiley Rufus makes a star's belated entrance in the show. True, he looks a little stoned. Or as its owner, Paulette, the brassy beautician, puts it happily when she's at last reunited with him, "I missed this face!"
A phlegmatic second banana, Rufus doesn't have a big scene after his surprise entrance, unless vaguely chasing a hand-puppet offstage in Act II counts. But Rufus isn't one to complain. He can take it or leave it.
Bruiser's moment comes during a parade into a courtroom for the murder trial of—Omigod!—Elle's best sorority friend from UCLA, who's become a risqué, rope-skipping fitness guru (secretly toned with liposuction), when the bewildered canine is raised in triumph along with the American flag.
People think it's easy being a dog in showbiz. But I remember the very regrettable Broadway debut of Riley, the hopeless wire terrier who played Asta in the ill-fated musical version of Nick and Nora (1991). I regret to say that Riley gave one of the worst performances I've ever witnessed from a dog.
Remember the high-energy of Sandy in Annie? Why, that pooch seized the stage. Sandy was the Ethel Merman of dogs. But all Riley's dozy Asta could do was peer into the wings as if he'd forgotten his lines or wanted to go home. Riley even yawned at one point—a cardinal sin onstage, though understandable from the audience's point of view. The eager understudy, Eve, should have taken over. Those are the breaks. My point is, Riley simply wasn't a pro. But let there be no doubts about Bruiser and Rufus.
They're as perfectly cast as everyone else in Legally Blonde. The boldest casting of all is the show's director, Jerry Mitchell. Mr. Mitchell is well-known as a leading Broadway choreographer (Hairspray, The Full Monty, Dirty Rotten Scoundrels, the revival of La Cage aux Folles). He's making his debut as a director with Legally Blonde, which he also choreographs. A disciple of the late Michael Bennett, Mr. Mitchell keeps the stage hot and even boiling by telling a story that's always in constant motion.
He can be raw and hyper: His dances for the show's UCLA Delta Nu Greek chorus are based on the none-too-subtle moves of video sluts, and his Act II opener, "Whipped Into Shape," is a vaudevillian tribute involving suggestive rope-skipping, if you please, that turns into a stamina test. But his big Act I opening number, "Omigod You Guys," is a synthesis of every element of an exciting musical. He boldly choreographs the set as well as the performers. The gifted Mr. Mitchell's achievement is that he successfully anchors an ambitiously nutty show that could have easily spun out of control.
After all, this is a musical that for no strictly sane reason launches into a delirious song-and-dance version of Riverdance—because Paulette (of the hairdressing salon "Hair Affair") has a thing for romantic Ireland and the sound of bagpipes:
Smell the grass as a rainstorm is endin'
People smile while I stroll past their farms
With a redheaded sailor named Brendan
And we dance without moving our arms.
Mr. Mitchell has also assembled an expert creative team—among them, scenic designer David Rockwell (Hairspray, The Rocky Horror Show), whose candy-colored sets are matched in wit by a golf scene with a pink golf ball. Why a golf scene, incidentally? Why not? The manic spirit of Legally Blonde makes it possible for the show to go wherever its manic spirit moves it.
The original book has been delightfully adapted—and even improved—by Heather Hach, who wrote the screenplay for the remake of Freaky Friday, which grossed a gazillion dollars. The music and lyrics are by the exceptional team of Laurence O'Keefe (who created one of my favorite quirky Off-Broadway musicals, Bat Boy) and his wife, Nell Benjamin. They met at Harvard, where they collaborated on the Hasty Pudding Show. One of the smartest numbers in Legally Blonde is sung by a venal professor of law at Harvard (played by the excellent Tony Award winner, Michael Rupert) who gives this useful advice to his students, the legal sharks of the future:
Look for the blood in the water.
Read your Thomas Hobbes:
Only spineless snobs
Will quarrel with the morally dubious jobs.
Laura Bell Bundy, who plays Elle, has been criticized by some killjoys for not being Reese Witherspoon or Kristin Chenoweth. Ms. Bundy is just swell (and anyone who can write in their Playbill bio that they're the "creator and co-designer of Schmancy Purses" is the girl for me). There's nothing fancy-schmancy about Ms. Bundy. Her impeccable performance is boundless in its energy and good humor, and she leads a terrific cast, including Christian Borle (of Spamalot) as Elle's newfound love interest, the soon to be restyled Emmet. The performer known as Orfeh—founder and lead singer of the platinum hit group Or-N-More—makes a hilarious Paulette. And the first-rate Kate Shindle—who happens to have been Miss America 1998—is the snooty Harvard yuppie Vivienne.
To be sure, Legally Blonde has a few forgivable flaws. It's loud and longs to please (and does). It's not an innovatory musical in the league of Spring Awakening; it's in the pop-culture tradition of Hairspray and the fairy tale Wicked.
The broad appeal of Legally Blonde is in its girl power and stirring moral: You, too, can be a blond bend-and-snap ditz and triumph at Harvard (and—Omigod!—get the right guy). All this and those dogged, scene-stealing troupers, Bruiser and Rufus.
(Source: The New York Observer | Arts & Culture | At the Theater | Delightful Doggie Duo Raising the Woof In Dopey, Delirious Legally Blonde)
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