Riverside Theatre’s rollicking production of “Sister Act” is bound to entertain. Set in the late 1970s, there’s never a sedate moment, thanks to its high-energy singing, disco dancing, stage magic and glittering finale. The whole is punctuated by synchronized light shows (the work of scenic designer Peter Barbieri Jr. and lighting designer Jack Mehler) that take their vertigo-inducing cue in part from the flashing dance floor of “Saturday Night Fever.”
Based on the 1992 comedy film of the same name, “Sister Act” the musical premiered at the Pasadena Playhouse in Pasadena, California, in 2006. An original production opened in London’s West End in 2009; a 2011 revision on Broadway (the model for the current Riverside Production) ran for 561 performances. The show has since been seen in Europe, South America and Asia, and has been translated into German, Spanish and Japanese, among other languages.
By now the storyline of “Sister Act” is as familiar to theater-goers as “Cosi fan tutti” or “The Barber of Seville” is to habitués of the opera house.
Here goes, anyway: A spunky African-American lounge singer named Deloris Van Cartier runs afoul of her gangster lover when she inadvertently witnesses a murder. Fearing for her life, she runs to the police, who hide her in a convent until she can testify in court. At the convent Deloris’ wildly unorthodox behavior does not tip the sisters off to her true identity; according to her cover story, she is Sister Mary Clarence, a transfer from a “progressive convent.”
The real nuns soon follow her irrepressible example, bringing a newfound boisterousness to the cloister that shakes not only its discipline, but also its Mother Superior’s sense of purpose. Deloris transforms the nuns’ choir into a hip-shaking singing act that packs the pews and saves the convent from bankruptcy. In return, the nuns’ example of selflessness brings about devil-may-care Deloris’ transformation. Oh, and the bad guy gets vanquished, too.
The musical has the general idea and a few scenes in common with its cinematic forebear. Of course, dialog in the movie is replaced by songs in the play, written by longtime collaborators Alan Menken, the composer, and Glenn Slater, who wrote the lyrics. The script was written by Cheri and Bill Steinkellner.
Conspicuously missing from the musical is the intimidating figure of Vince LaRocca (played in the film by a grim Harvey Keitel), who is the reason lounge singer Deloris finds herself in a convent in the first place. Although you just know beforehand that Whoopi Goldberg as Deloris will not wind up dead at the end, the film has its moments of high anxiety: When will mob boss Vince catch on to Deloris’ hideout? What will happen then?
The musical is having none of that. Like Deloris’ remake of the convent choir into a Vegas-ready act, the theater version throws away all pretense of having a story to tell. If Mother Superior wanted to put butts in pews, Broadway wanted the same in its seats. At least Mother Superior did point out in Act Two that the church had a nobler mission to bear in mind. Not that anyone listened.
Broadway also seems to have thought a less villainous boyfriend might have broader appeal than Keitel’s Vince. It also made him black. Renamed Curtis Jackson in the musical and played here by Philip Michael Baskerville, Curtis is more suave than menacing; more fashion plate than Mafioso. I did not think for a moment that Curtis would actually hurt Deloris, although his solo number, “When I Find My Baby,” makes it perfectly clear that he wants to “waste that girl” and “make her meet her maker.”
His gang are comical bumblers who stand by as one of their number, Ernie (Billy D. Hart), is shot to death by Curtis. That leaves nephew TJ (Justin Keyes), Joey (Fran Prisco) and Pablo (Tony Castellanos) to aid their boss, however unhelpfully, in bringing Deloris to her doom. In their big number, “Lady in the Long Black Dress,” the clueless Lotharios imagine how they will wheedle the nuns into letting them in the front door, in more ways than one.
As the mover and shaker of events, Dan’yelle Williamson is perfectly cast as Deloris Van Cartier. She has a fine, big voice and more than enough wattage to keep the City of Philadelphia (the setting of the play) humming through all two-and-a-half hours of the show.
As police officer Eddie Souther, Kent Overshown is a mild-mannered desk sergeant who yearns to be Deloris’ knight in shining armor. He gets his wish – in his imagination, at least – in his Act One solo “I Could Be That Guy.” That number, which included an ensemble of dancers and some delightful quick-change magic, was an opening night favorite.
The play is full of one-liners, some more successful than others. A few were problematic on another level. One line tossed off in Act One by Deloris was in response to Officer Souther’s request that she disguise herself. “You mean I gotta go incognegro?” The predominantly white audience at Riverside on opening night roared with appreciation at this; I squirmed. Thinking about it the day after, I find the line unworthy of Deloris, who might not know what “postulant” means but wouldn’t stoop to a minstrel-show malapropism like that.
Deloris’ sister nuns, giggly optimist Mary Patrick (Melissa Joy Hart), choir director Mary Lazarus (Diane Findlay) and nun-in-training Mary Robert (Laura Giknis) are modeled after the characters in the movie. Mary Patrick is plump, her face contorted into an invariable rictus; Mary Lazarus is a cawing, middle-aged pessimist who looks like she was weaned on a pickle; and innocent Mary Roberts is so painfully shy that she seems to want to sink through the floor.
The trio and their sister nuns let “Sister Clarence” know exactly what she is in for in “It’s Good to Be a Nun.” Later on, Giknis’ lovely voice is allowed to shine in her solo, “The Life I Never Led.” That number was an oasis of heartfelt feeling in the glittery uproar of Act Two.
Mary Martello as the Mother Superior lends some gravity to the play; her solo “Haven’t Got a Prayer” comically reflects on the disruption around her. Ron Wisniski is Monsignor O’Hara, a lumbering bearer of the Good News. He wore the cope well.
Act Two pulls out all the stops, with each ensemble number attempting to outdo the last. Just when you think the costumes can’t get more over the top, or the singing and dancing more ecstatic, they do. It is a tribute to the cast that they can ramp up the excitement without quite exhausting the material – or the audience.
Costumes for this visual jolt of adrenaline are by New York-based designer Gail Boldoni. Director Richard Stafford doubled as choreographer, and ensemble member Kristyn Pope was the dance captain.
Riverside Theatre co-produced this presentation of “Sister Act” with Philadelphia’s Walnut Street Theatre, where the show will travel in late May for a two-month run. At Riverside, it plays through May 1.
