How to Succeed in Business
Without Really Trying

Al Hirschfeld Theatre
New York, NY
It’s a Golden Anniversary at the Al Hirschfeld Theatre for the revival of How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying, the musical with a snide edge.  The libretto by Abe Burrows , Jack Weinstock and Willie Gilbert was inspired by Shepherd Mead’s how-to book advising, “If you have education and intelligence and ability, so much the better.  But  remember, thousands have reached the top without any of these qualities.”  J. Pierrepont Finch, or “Ponty,” plans to be one of them.

Ponty, played by pint-sized Daniel Radcliffe, is a high-rise window-washer with zero business experience.  What he has is Mead’s handbook and plenty of ambition.  A Machiavellian imp, he finagles his way through an open window of opportunity.  With slight fibbing, nudging aside competitors, and buttering up the powers that be, he gets a job in the mailroom and starts up the ladder.  After one week, he is Chairman of the Board of World Wide Wickets.

Not that Ponty doesn’t run into some barriers.  As he scales the rungs, he meets challenges from company president J. B. Biggley’s (John Larroquette) spoiled, jealous nephew, Bud Frump, played by lanky Christopher J. Hanke, and assorted VPs who are well ahead of Finch in seniority.  Finch, however, consults his How to Succeed manual and, as he reaches each goal, he turns to the audience to draw them in with a chime, a spotlight and a smug grin.

Ponty looks innocent, all right, but he has his hard-hearted side.  He’s even willing enough to give up his girlfriend, secretary Rosemary, when marriage might interfere with his ambitions.  Luckily, Rosemary, played by Rose Hemingway with idealistic sweetness, declares that she will be “Happy to Keep His Dinner Warm,” a squeamish anthem for women today.  Remember, this takes place in the early 1960s.  The other company characters are strong, including office sexpot Hedy La Rue, played by Tammy Blanchard.  Hedy, the big boss’s mistress, does not need office skills, but she packs plenty of sex appeal and personal ambition inside her slinky dresses.  Ellen Harvey is formidable as Biggley’s secretary, Miss Jones, and Rob Bartlett is A-plus in two roles.  John Larroquette, a TV and off-Broadway veteran, is making his Broadway debut as a demanding boss with a hangdog expression and a guilty pleasure of knitting.

Frank Loesser’s first-class score deftly moves the storyline, skewering “The Company Way” with standout moments for its lead star.  When five-foot-five-inch tall Radcliffe pairs with six-foot-four-inch Larroquette in an energetically comic fight song, “Grand Old Ivy,” it is old-time, golden-era musical theater time again.  “Brotherhood of Man,” a toe-tapping, hand-clapping, pull-out-the–stops finale, lets Radcliffe let loose with surprising musical limberness.

Obviously, Radcliffe, while a trained singer and dancer, was chosen for the lead because of his enormous audience appeal in the Harry Potter films. He had enough fans in this audience to prove it.  He has good timing and rhythm and mostly dependable singing, delivering the one take-away hit from the show, “I Believe in You,” with determination.  Yet, although he is a cunning Ponty,  Radcliffe does not rule the stage like the musical's original Finch, Robert Morse, with his gap-toothed, dimpled devilish grin.  Radcliffe is fine, but hardly a charismatic star.

Director/choreographer Rob Ashford keeps it all quick, building toward the “Brotherhood of Man” climax.  The set by Derek McLane provides the boxy look of a large office with an “upstairs” ledge over one side of the stage, just large enough to hold Biggley and his desk.  Catherine Zuber’s bright 1960s dresses are on target, right up to the perky, pointy breasts and seamed stockings.

Shepherd Mead's poofing guidebook was published in 1952, led to the musical in 1961, then a film, and later 1995 revival.  It won a Pulitzer Prize and several Tony Awards.  It’s certainly entertaining, but considering Promises, Promises, TV’s Mad Men and off-Broadway’s Cactus Flower, maybe we’ve had enough of the 1960s office hi-jinx for now.

(Pictured: Daniel Radcliffe and Tammy Blanchard. Photo by Ari Mintz)

Elizabeth Ahlfors
Cabaret Scenes
March 25, 2011
www.cabaretscenes.org