Theater Review: Sarah, Plain and Tall

by Ed Townley of John Garcia's The Column

Sarah, Plain and Tall brings to a close what must surely be the most successful Dallas Theater Center season in many years. The world premiere production of a new musical provides a fitting bookend to the season opener, The Who's Tommy, where Tommy was big, loud, assertive and dazzling, and Sarah, Plain and Tall is intimate, quiet, charming and sweet. One can easily predict a long and successful future for the musical in regional, stock, children's and community theaters everywhere. Broadway? Not so likely.

This is a musical with a lot going for it, starting with its source material – an acclaimed and popular young adult novel by Patricia McLachlan, later adapted as a Hallmark television film that has become a classic. This musical adaptation – with book by Julia Jordan, lyrics by Nell Benjamin and music by Laurence O'Keefe – was originally produced in a one-act version, and I suspect it was more effective at that length. This two-act expansion feels padded – charmingly padded, very often, but a number of the songs have almost nothing to do with the minimalist plot, and some character quirks feel added at random, just to fill time.

The basic situation is established in the opening number, and there are no surprises between that and the final curtain. Sarah lives on the coast of Maine with her brother William; she's what would have been called a tomboy, happiest in overalls, fishing, boating and generally enjoying life. William, however, marries Estelle, an extremely affected, vaguely French and totally demanding woman (think Eva Gabor in "Green Acres") who finds Sarah's presence in her home to be unacceptable.

At the same time, in central Kansas , Jacob is a widower with two kids – Anna and Caleb – who is persuaded by his neighbor to advertise for a mail order bride. The witchy Estelle sees the ad, letters ensue, and quicker than you can sing the title song Sarah has accepted an invitation to spend a tryout month on Jacob's farm. None of this is remotely believable – both Jacob and Sarah are too strong and clearheaded to be manipulated like mindless puppets – but they're also interesting enough that you're willing to go along.

Well...Caleb is happy to have a stepmom, but the older Anna has stronger memories of her real mother, and is angry and resistant. Jacob was expecting a submissive wife-type woman and is bowled over by Sarah's assertiveness. Whatever do you think might happen? Will Sarah's goodness melt Anna's resistance? Will Jacob come to appreciate Sarah's strength as an equal partner? Will Caleb finally learn the lullaby his mother used to sing, which Anna has been forbidden to sing in the house? The answers will not have you on the edge of your seat.

The score is Americana light, with sea chanteys, lullabies, hymns and a touch of twang. It's pleasant, often clever, with some lovely harmonies and lyrics that zip by so fast they sometimes get lost in the instrumentation. Some of the songs – particularly a ludicrous and totally unnecessary second-act duet for William and Estelle (who have had nothing to do with anything since they packed Sarah off in the first minutes) seem to be trunk numbers rescued from some other show altogether.

The massive wooden set designed by Anna Louizos seems claustrophobic and cumbersome; actors are continually pushing barn door-sized panels open and closed with no rhyme or reason. Anne Kennedy's costumes are attractive and functional, although I had no idea Kansas farmers got quite so dressed up to have supper with the next-door neighbors. Joe Calarco's direction takes its biggest risk in interweaving scenes in Maine and Kansas so that, for example, characters from both locales sit at the same table, carrying on separate but overlapping conversations. It works in the opening number, but later becomes confusing and meaningless. The script makes much of the differences between Maine and Kansas ; but since they both unfold on the same wooden set, there is no sense of separation.

The cast of eight could scarcely be bettered. Colin Hanlon and Cristen Paige bring energy and a welcome touch of sass as the newlyweds next door; their number together, "Let's Never Do That" is great fun. Kate Loprest is a vivacious Estelle, even though her apparently ghostly appearances in the Kansas scenes don't work. Kenneth Boys dithers appropriately as the weak brother. Max Ary as Caleb and Kate Wetherhead as Anna carry a lot of the evening on their young shoulders, and are both genuine, funny, touching and talented.

Herndon Lackey takes some real risks as Jacob, and they pay off richly as the evening unfolds. At the outset there's nothing of the leading man about him; he seems a lot more Judd Fry than Curly. It's off-putting at first, but as Sarah's energy begins to warm and transform him the change is all the more touching because it has so far to go. His tentative, awkward scenes with Sarah are the real touchstones of the evening. And Becca Ayers is everything you would expect – and need – Sarah to be. She's tall, yes, but not remotely plain. She has a strong musical voice and an open, welcoming intelligence and presence that seem equally at home on the prairie and the shore. She is completely believable as a force of nature that melts resistance and helps love to grow.

All in all, as a woman behind me commented on her way out the door, "very nice." Sarah, Plain and Tall is sure to be a hit with Dallas Theater Center audiences, and a source of warmth and pleasure in many future productions. It's too light and delicate for the rigors of Broadway, but that's not such a bad thing. It's certainly a lovely way to close the Kalita Humphreys Theater as the DTC's full-time home.

Sarah, Plain and Tall runs through May 24. Purchase tickets online or by calling 214-522-8499.