Oklahoma
Reviewed by Holly Bartges
When Rodgers and Hammerstein’s Oklahoma opened on Broadway in 1943, it set the theatre
world on its ear. This was the first time, for a musical, songs were aided and abetted by a plot. Up
to that point, musicals were basically songs with a smattering of comedy. Unbelievable as it may seem,
Oklahoma won the Pulitzer Prize in 1944 for drama. Based on Lynn Rigg’s play Green Grow
The Lilacs, Oklahoma contains some of the most memorable well-loved songs ever to grace the
stage: “Oh, What A Beautiful Morning,” “I Can’t Say No,” “People Will
Say We’re In Love,” and of course, “Oklahoma.”
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| Amy Board as Ado Annie and Markus Waterman as Ali Hakim star in
the Country Dinner Playhouse production of Rodgers and Hammerstein‘s Oklahoma. |
Then why is it so difficult to produce?
nder the direction of Texas-based Joel Ferrell, Country Dinner’s production definitely has some
bright highlights with staging, singing and choreography created by Alann E. Worley.
The program states Marcus Waterman employs the character, Ali Hakim, the Persian peddler, who
definitely wants his cake and be able to eat it too as far as women are concerned. Just don’t ask
Hakim for a commitment. He doesn’t want one cake. He wants a piece of all of the cakes. Only one
slice at a time, thank you very much. There is no sign of Waterman. With dialect neatly under wraps,
Waterman has morphed himself with liquid comedic timing. When Hakim peddles his way onto the stage,
he commands full attention, even when it is just his eyebrows speaking.
With all of her blatant innocence, Ado Annie, the girl who notoriously can’t say no, flaunts
her skirts and her big eyes. Considering Oklahoma took place in the early 1900s instead of 2005,
her defiant, saucy flirtation had to move women’s liberation up a notch in 1943. Amy Board captures
Annie in every detail from the slightest gesture to the musical outburst of “I Can’t Say
No.” She’s a giggle. She’s fun. She’s Annie.
Shane Peterman plays Curly, the arrogant flashy cowboy competing for Laurey’s attention. Peterman
has a big voice, but doesn’t always use it to Curley’s advantage. Although he steps up to the
plate with “The Surrey With The Fringe On Top,” Peterman leaves one cringing with his baggy
pants. No self-respecting cowboy would ever be caught dead in baggy pants that could easily spoke horses
and cattle, get caught on spurs, or tangled in brush. That would be a cowboy waiting for an accident to
happen. Then there are the shoes. No cowboy boots with slanted heels? The rightful image becomes destroyed
for Curly.
There always seem to be the wanting to tone down the meanness of Jud Fry, a disenchanted farm hand living
in the smoke house with tenderness toward Laurey, played by Christine Paterson, There are definite moments
Peterson lets the shy, playful Laurey out to play, but there are other times Laurey hides behind
Peterson’s skirts, a common problem with Oklahoma. Jud shows his spice and spirit in Act II,
but Act I, he is a little too clean cut. Craig Lundquist definitely has the voice for Jud and gives a
numbing performance with his Poor Jud song along with Curly egging him on. The fight scene in Act II
between him and Curley is magnificently choreographed. Lundquist opens Jud’s cage door with abandonment.
Deborah Curtis gives a delightful entanglement of Aunt Eller, the feisty, scheming, hard working farm owner.
There are moments the feistiness bends under just being too nice, and the desired feistiness is lost under an
all too pretty smile.
John Arp brings Andrew Carnes to life as Ado Annie’s father. His voice booms with masterful control
over his rambunctious daughter. He brings power and strength to the story when power and strength is needed.
Arp knows how to turn on the eye-twinkling game enveloping Andrew’s gruff exterior.
Christopher Sergeeff takes on the role of Will Parker, Ado Annie’s lovesick cowboy who has difficulty
understanding that if you have $50.00, and you spend $50.00 on presents, you don’t have $50.00 anymore.
He stands out with his Kansas City song, always a crowd pleaser, and with the flirtatious “All ’Er
Nothin’” with Annie.
Except for the fog machine not working on press night, the dance sequence with Dream Laurey and Dream
Curley by Michelle Sergeeff and Bob Hoppe was beautifully executed.
The big numbers come through loud and clear with creative ingenuity. The Farmer and the Cowman and Oklahoma.
Worley matches the ability of the dancers to the steps. The fight is grandly choreographed especially
considering the size of the stage with everyone there. Everyone is in character and stays there.
In some of the lesser scenes, chorus members lose track of their characters with actors in costume waiting
for their lines. This is especially true when on the fringe of the action.
Although not a great production, Country Dinner Playhouse’s presentation is good and solid. The
music itself will sell it. Waterman, Arp, Board, and Lundquist are worth the price of the ticket alone.
Dancers/actors Robert Costigan and Steven Cogswell always demand attention for their professional expertise
in melding portraits of their characters into whatever they are doing.
Ferrell demonstrates his knowledge of the theatre in the round, and uses the stage and surrounding areas
well. To move the production from good to great, attention needs to be devoted to characterizations
particularly of the chorus. In spite of it all, Country Dinner’s Oklahoma is good. If it’s
any consolation, in the many times I have seen Oklahoma performed, I have yet to see a great one,
which makes me wonder why it is so difficult to produce.
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