Review: ‘The Most Happy Fella,’ Sliced, Diced and None Too Pleased

RED HOOK, N.Y. — It was useful to remember as I watched “Most Happy in Concert,” the bizarre and fascinating 75-minute cantata that just finished a run here on Saturday evening, that the neatly cut lawn at Montgomery Place, the grand Hudson River estate where the show was performed, does not much resemble the vineyards of Napa Valley. That’s where “The Most Happy Fella,” the 1956 Frank Loesser musical on which the concert was based, takes place.

But however I tried to convince myself that despite their enormous differences, the two works, like the two locales, might both be beautiful, my ear told me no. The original is a heart-lifting achievement; the concert merely sucks its blood.

To be fair, “Most Happy in Concert” is very much a work in progress, easy to react to but difficult to assess. Originally scheduled for a staged production as part of the Bard SummerScape series in 2020, following workshops going back to 2018, it was postponed by the pandemic and emerged into public view for this three-night stand in denatured form, fully orchestrated but without scenery, costumes or movement. Even with those provisos, and with a relatively high tolerance for tinkering with classic musicals, I felt that Daniel Fish, who conceived and directed the adaptation, had not yet made a convincing argument for what made the tinkering worth it.

Fish could be forgiven for heaving a been-there sigh right now. Much the same criticism was lobbed at his SummerScape production of “Oklahoma!” in 2015, even though it became a hit at St. Ann’s Warehouse in Brooklyn three years later and, after transferring to Broadway, won the 2019 Tony Award for best revival of a musical. That adaptation set the Rodgers and Hammerstein classic in a kind of community party room, with streamers and banjos and chili at intermission. You could hardly have missed — and many critics were enthralled by — the way this new light seemed to reveal the work’s bones like an X-ray delivering bad news.

“The Most Happy Fella” is a different animal. Though some consider it an opera, Loesser preferred to call it “a musical with a lot of music” — almost three glorious hours’ worth. Everything he could turn into song, he did, brilliantly absorbing the story of Tony, a Sicilian immigrant grape farmer, and Rosabella, the much younger bride he obtains through deception, into arias, toe-tappers, recitatives and chorales. The result is a long, difficult and, at this point, almost prohibitively costly show to mount; with its intricate echoes and leitmotifs it is also hard to cut. Still, Broadway’s Golden Age produced few more exhilarating works, and some of us will go anywhere to find it.

That seems to be what Fish did, too.

Working with his “Oklahoma!” collaborators Daniel Kluger and Nathan Koci, Fish must have realized that he could not preserve the integrity of the score or the wide-screen story in a small-scale production. His solution, which will displease purists, and plenty of impurists as well, was to do away with the dialogue altogether and put the music through a high-speed chipper.

Many great numbers were lost in the process; the climactic “My Heart Is So Full of You,” for instance, emerged as a few wisps of melody dispersing in the night air. The songs or song particles that survived this almost aleatory process were assigned to seven performers — all female or nonbinary and sitting glumly on stools — in kaleidoscopic shufflings that prevented the creation of any sustained characterization. Everyone played anyone, and thus no one.

If you didn’t know the plot, you would therefore be unable to discern it here. Melodies were handed over in mid-phrase, songs were sung out of order or sampled briefly before crashing into others. On the rare occasion when Fish allowed a number to be performed intact, it was, as he may have intended, a revelation, like the moon cracking through clouds. Yet even this seemed random. It made sense to let the ravishing soprano Mikaela Bennett sing all of “Somebody, Somewhere,” Rosabella’s aching introductory number, but in another extended solo, the belter Tina Fabrique made an R&B showstopper out of “Young People,” originally a minor minuet.

I don’t mind that the soundscape of Loesser’s Napa, with its tarantellas and Italianate arioso, was dumped in favor of arrangements and orchestrations for a 12-player ensemble that favored smoky bebop, sour jazz fusion and — was this sarcastic? — something you might have heard on an Andy Williams special. (To listen to the spectacular original orchestrations, by Don Walker, I need merely hit play on the original cast album.) And I enjoyed discovering new ideas inside many of the songs, even if the formerly celebratory, up-tempo “Abbondanza” now had all the vivacity of a funeral march.

But unlike Fish’s “Oklahoma!” — in which the dialogue and score were left intact — “Most Happy in Concert” works so hard to be new for newness’ sake that it feels like open season on musical comedy. In a developing work, that arrogance is understandable and maybe even necessary; I look forward to seeing “Most Happy” again. I hope that when I do, I’ll be able to discern what Fish is trying to develop it into.

It’s not as if the original needs “correcting” for dramaturgical or political reasons, like so many Golden Age musicals. And though it was nice to hear sopranos and altos sing a score that typically includes tenors, baritones and basses as well, it has to be said that few of the singers, who also included Jules Latimer, Erin Markey, April Matthis, Mallory Portnoy and Mary Testa, made musicality a priority; angst and anomie were the top notes. Their sound was sometimes, I assume deliberately, harsh and unbeautiful.

And yet the show’s emotional world is often harsh and unbeautiful too. Tony, for all his heartiness, has spent a lifetime believing he’s too homely and stupid to marry. Rosabella — which isn’t even her real name — thinks that as a poor woman she has no choice but to go with any man who might ask.

These feelings, Fish seems to posit, belong not just to them. Dissociating the story’s emotions from individual characters and even plot may be a way of showing that they exist universally, as a kind of magma boiling beneath us all.

Perhaps it’s best, then, to look at “Most Happy in Concert” as an abstract painting that creates meaning through a collision of forms. Which is not to say it has no theme. The pun in the evening’s title lets you know you are listening to the cries (sometimes gorgeous, sometimes ugly) of people who are “most happy” not when alone but “in concert”: who crave love but don’t know it, or are too afraid to ask.

Of course, that was the show’s theme in the first place.