It's hard to imagine a Broadway show delivering a more dazzling combination of talent than Come Fly With Me (* * * out of four), the Frank Sinatra tribute that opened Thursday at the Marquis Theatre.
Conceived, choreographed and directed with characteristic dynamism by Twyla Tharp, this homage features the spine-tingling arrangements of Sinatra's best-loved recordings, zestfully revived by an expert live band. Tharp's dancers, too -- playing couples who grapple with that tender trap called love -- mix technical prowess with a visceral punch that can be as playful as it is poignant.
And of course, Come Fly With Me has Sinatra himself -- or his voice, at least. While Tharp used other singers to re-create Billy Joel and Bob Dylan tunes in 2002's Movin' Out and 2006's The Times They Are A-Changin', she knew better than to simulate the most distinctive pop voice of the 20th century. So Sinatra's vocals, taken from masters provided by his estate, are piped in over the orchestra.
But Ol' Blue Eyes' boundless expressivity actually makes him a tricky subject for this approach. In concert and in the studio, Sinatra was an instinctively interactive artist; he engaged the band and the listener, making us believe that songs were vital forms of communication rather than just vehicles for crooners. To hear that voice superimposed on music played more than a decade after his death, however faithfully to the original orchestrations, seems at odds with this whole sensibility.
Conceived, choreographed and directed with characteristic dynamism by Twyla Tharp, this homage features the spine-tingling arrangements of Sinatra's best-loved recordings, zestfully revived by an expert live band. Tharp's dancers, too -- playing couples who grapple with that tender trap called love -- mix technical prowess with a visceral punch that can be as playful as it is poignant.
And of course, Come Fly With Me has Sinatra himself -- or his voice, at least. While Tharp used other singers to re-create Billy Joel and Bob Dylan tunes in 2002's Movin' Out and 2006's The Times They Are A-Changin', she knew better than to simulate the most distinctive pop voice of the 20th century. So Sinatra's vocals, taken from masters provided by his estate, are piped in over the orchestra.
But Ol' Blue Eyes' boundless expressivity actually makes him a tricky subject for this approach. In concert and in the studio, Sinatra was an instinctively interactive artist; he engaged the band and the listener, making us believe that songs were vital forms of communication rather than just vehicles for crooners. To hear that voice superimposed on music played more than a decade after his death, however faithfully to the original orchestrations, seems at odds with this whole sensibility.
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