Stage Review: 'A Man of No Importance' revels in its intimacy

Thursday, December 05, 2002 By Christopher Rawson, Post-Gazette Drama Critic

NEW YORK -- At the heart of the new ensemble musical drama by the team of Stephen Flaherty (music), Lynn Ahrens (lyrics) and Terrence McNally (book) is an expected paradox: Its hero, Alfie Byrne, the "Man of No Importance" of the title, turns out to have all the importance that the musical's and audience's affectionate understanding create.

As played by Roger Rees, that thoughtful, characteristically modest and intensely sympathetic English actor, Alfie soaks up our attention. But in a further, less expected paradox, he is not the sum of this small, thoughtful, sympathetic musical. A supporting ensemble of 14 plays nearly that many memorable other characters, and even minor figures without much specific gravity have telling moments.

The result is that Alfie gains in importance from sharing his story, since he is the agent through whom we enter this full world. On the surface, it has no apparent importance either, made up of shopkeepers, clerks and other modest souls caught up in the conformity of 1964 Dublin. But as composer Flaherty has said, most of the characters have their own secrets; this gives them a depth that is felt even if the musical doesn't have time to plumb some very far.

The major supporting characters are very fully realized, among them Robbie (Steven Pasquale), the handsome young man on whom Alfie's unknowing, innocent heart is set; Adele (Sally Murphy), the young woman with her own hidden pain; and Baldy (Ronn Carroll), the stolid stalwart who sweetly reveals a surprising heart. Only Alfie's sister, Lily, fails to realize the dimension she deserves, partly because Faith Prince is the one member of the ensemble who doesn't seem at home in this milieu.

Alfie is a Dublin bus conductor who lives with his sister but lives most fully as director of an amateur theater group at his church. He also reads and recites to the passengers on his bus, making of them a small transient commonwealth, much like this sweet, slice-of-life play.

The show opens with Alfie's farewell to St. Imelda's, then proceeds to flash back, so we are prepared for the conflict, which is over his plan to stage Oscar Wilde's fervid, poetic and still (in 1964 Dublin) scandalous drama, "Salome." The play is forbidden, and in the crisis, Alfie begins to face his own sexuality and the reactions of those around him. But when the musical returns to that farewell, it tacks on a coda that allows life to go forward.

Along the way, there's plenty of pleasant fun about amateur theatrics, including a song about the frustrations of collaboration that seems a commentary on the troubles Flaherty and Ahrens had with "Seussical." There's a lovely waltz, "Love Whom You Love," and a bit of John McCormack and a struggle with desire in a song of confession.

Flaherty provides 16 songs and a number of reprises, but there's no eruption of musical grandstanding. I can't wait for the CD, since even on first hearing you can tell there are many melodies and quiet turns to savor. It couldn't be further from the anthems of "Ragtime," not with just seven musicians, like a very good traditional Irish bar band.

McNally's book fits the working-class milieu well, as you'd expect from the author of "The Full Monty" and "Frankie and Johnny in the Clair de Lune."

Desire is the key. Lily wants Alfie to marry and join the world, but she has no sense of his true heart. Alfie knows that "in the theater, it's the heart we're after," but he has used art more to escape life than to encounter it. Choosing "Salome" is his unconscious way to force the issue. At the climax he dresses like his idol, Oscar Wilde (with whom he converses in fantasy), and sets out for a certain beating.

Just why is not entirely clear -- but Wilde's own disastrous choices weren't clear, either. Alfie remains a true innocent in a suspicious world, sort of like this unassuming musical among the behemoths of Broadway.