Want to know what small-town America looks and feels like in the thick of summertime, circa 1940? The Glimmerglass Festival’s purest musical theater offering, The Music Man, is festive, frolicsome Americana, brimming with spectacular sets, clever staging, and a sensational ensemble showcasing Olympic-sized talent.
Though composer Meredith Willson’s music has a timelessness to it, his book has grown as corny as River City, Iowa, where the show is set. Unabashed by its provincialism, director and choreographer Marcia Milgrom Dodge embraced the American theater potboiler’s old-fashioned elements whole hog. Like a fourth of July parade, the show was wholesome spectacle all the way through to the rousing curtain call. At Glimmerglass, they do musicals the old-fashioned way—unamplified. Since they have a smaller house than many American opera houses and the acoustics to support the unconventional choice of no microphones, the production makes for happy theatergoers who can’t wait to clap in time to the music during bows.
The story revolves around a slick traveling salesman going by the name of Harold Hill, who jumps off the dining car in River City to make a mountain of moolah selling band instruments and uniforms to small-town suckers. Oh, and along the way, he falls for a smart spinster librarian with a cute little brother and a gimlet-eyed ma.
The late great Robert Preston portrayed the role of the fast-talking, wheeling-and-dealing Harold Hill with quintessential panache and swagger, almost blinding theatergoers to the wonderful bits and shtick all around him. Unfortunately, for any other actor besides Preston playing Hill, comparisons are inevitable.
Hometown-talent-made-good Dwayne Croft rose to the challenge of playing an iconic role in musical theater. Croft has a beautiful, classically trained baritone that he tamped down for this role, so he didn’t sound like Don Giovanni plays River City. He’s also a fine comedian with loads of stage presence, which one has to have to pull off some of the outfits he was decked out in. His wasn’t a spellbinding performance, but it was strong and sturdy. And I’m kind of glad he wasn’t more Preston-esque because so many other worthy talents around him could be fully appreciated in this version.
The opening scene on the train is a tour de force. The hilarious a cappella rhythmic patter and signature movements of all the salesmen riding the rails—one bounces, one shakes his rear end, one can’t keep his balance—set the stage for the entire show. It symbolizes the ingenuity of American musical theater through inspired staging rather than glittery technology.