Romantic Decadence at the Grand Hotel
By Albert Goodwyn, San Francisco Bay Times
Published: September 14, 2006
Welcome to a world of romantic decadence, compulsive knavery, and doomed optimism. From the beginning of Grand Hotel with the Doctor shooting himself up, to the bankrupt Baron trying to steal the affections (and jewels) of the aged ballerina, to the sad story of the dying clerk allowing himself one last fling at the world’s most expensive hotel, “the revolving door spins and spins.” Hillbarn Theatre’s current showing of this ensemble musical includes an elegant stage setting, live music, and a series of appealing characters who blithely sing and dance their way to catastrophe.
The simple and evocative stage design by Hunter B. Jameson screams “hotel lobby,” and not Days Inn. Most of the intertwined plots take place there, but it also serves as a backdrop for other venues. Mae Heagerty-Matos’ costumes are sartorially exquisite and perfectly evoke the period style.
From the bustling opening scene in a fabulous place to see and be seen, John Kirman’s fast-paced production moves through the stories of people brought together by wealth, whether real or pretended, business dealings, workaday duties, or just plain happenstance. Doctor Otternschlag, sung by Russ Bohard, welcomes all to the Grand Hotel while guests and employees join in chorus. Joe Duffy’s choreography keeps the scenes lively, and Kirman’s timing for new entrances is even and precise.
All the characters are very well individualized. The Countess (Beth Anne Wells) dances in ballroom style with her Gigolo (Richard Sherwin). During the play, her love-life deteriorates to their last dance, “Death/Bolero.” The very crooked and deceptive Baron, played with an air of light-hearted sophistication by David Martin, flirts with and abuses Flaemmchen, the typist (Erica Wyman), then tries to seduce the old Prima Ballerina (Bobbi Fagone) in her hotel suite, where she finds him fingering her jewelry. She sings goodbye to love and takes what she can get. The Baron gets his at the train station, and the bolero dance circles the red roses he dropped as his body is carried off.
Other plots entwine while the Doctor serves as a reliable narrator. Businessman Preysing (Steve Schwartz) sings of his crooked path while the Doctor waltzes alone. Retired, sickly Bookkeeper Kringelein, appealingly self-effacing as played by Ron Simonian, at first battles with the hotel staff over anti-Semitism, then sings how happy he is to be finally staying at the Grand Hotel. All their lives intersect in love and death. “And once again, those two sworn enemies come face to face, and join hands,” the Doctor advises.
The 22 songs are richly backed up by the chorus and accompanied by a small group of offstage musicians, led briskly by Greg Sudmeier. “There’s always music at the Grand Hotel.” The ensemble dances with spontaneous enthusiasm.
The 2-hour show moves along fluidly without a break. It’s a big show, ideally suited for a large theater, but the Hillbarn space is thoroughly adequate. The sense of grandeur and the flavor of old Berlin are consistently textured and a pleasure to look at. And it’s a big story to tell. This production could feel rushed at times, but the singing, acting, and dancing are all engrossing.
The plot is there, but it will not interfere with your enjoyment of Grand Hotel’s spectacle, unless of course you fixate on the anti-Semitism, the drug use, the sexual exploitation, the degeneracy, the compulsive criminality, etc. This was the grandest scene in a world at the height of materialistic excess. Enjoy it. Global depression begins the next year.