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Metropolis' 'Damn Yankees' major league hit

Arlington Heights Post

By Catey Sullivan

September 22, 2008

Predictably, the theatrical bandwagon is freighted with politically-minded plays in the waning days before the final November countdown. But there's an equally timely topic that most theaters overlooked when they were planning their fall seasons: Baseball. The weekend the Cubs magic number dwindled to 0, the Metropolis Performing Arts Centre opened a crackerjack staging of "Damn Yankees." Except for "Brigadoon" (which tells the story of a magical event that occurs every century and sets the locals to dancing in the street), there isn't a more timely musical in the canon.

This is the biggest show Metropolis has ever attempted. The cast, the sets, the on-stage band, the visibly expansive costume budget -- everything about "Damn Yankees" is big and bold. Directed by Chris LoDuca and anchored by David Kovac as a delectably bad, impeccably dressed Prince of Darkness, "Damn Yankees" is a winning effort. It is not, you should forgive the obvious metaphor, completely error-free: The book (by George Abbott and the aptly named Douglass Wallop) is seriously dated in a few crucial aspects, some of the supporting players aren't as sharp as they might be and muddy sound design means that the band often overpowers the vocals. But the fact that these don't amount to deal-breakers only illustrates just how good the production is on the whole. If (knock on wood) the gods and/or ghosts of goats conspire to make the Cubs implode in the coming weeks (knock on wood), heartsick fans would do well to head over to the Campbell Street box office. "Damn Yankees" will put a smile on the despondent.

Things start haltingly, with actors reciting lines rather than effectively selling them. But "Damn Yankees" moves into high gear with the appearance of the Devil in the living room of aging, frustrated Washington Senators superfan Joe Boyd and his wife, Meg. Offering Joe the chance to become 22 again and the greatest ball player that ever lived, Kovac radiates the slick, damn near irresistible charm you'd expect from a musical comedy version of Satan. Turning flaming matches into blood-red poppies, and releasing small infernos from the pages of books, this Devil is a wicked delight. And he's matched in charisma by Jennifer Knox's Lola, a purring femme fatale who has struck her own Faustian bargain. Knox dances up a slinky storm as Lola, making Delilah and Salome look like wallflowers by comparison. Lola's one drawback: An inexplicably frumpy shag wig that makes Florence Henderson's Brady Bunch do look positively ravishing by comparison.

Fortunately, choreographer Kristen Gurbach Jacobson's work in Lola's seductive showstoppers ("What Lola Wants", "Limbo") make the dubious choice in coiffure a forgettable issue. Jacobson further shines with a line of high- stepping, tobacco spitting major leaguers ("You Gotta Have Heart"). And her incorporation of baseball bats into a kick line is a triumph.

The strikes (sorry) in "Damn Yankees" come partially from a few over eager ensemble members who confuse bad accents with good acting. But the biggest stumbling block is the book. Without giving away the store, we'll just say it's a tad ludicrously unbelievable that a wife (even a 1955 wife) would welcome without question the return of a husband who had disappeared for weeks and suddenly shows up insisting that she never ask where he's been. In a similar vein, when Meg laments in her opening number that hubby Joe never takes her anywhere, one wonders what unseen impairment precludes her from leaving the house without him. Heck, she's got friends -- they show up in the chorus repeatedly.

But you can't blame Metropolis for a creaky book. What they've done with "Damn Yankees" is darn good. Play ball.


Damn Yankees runs through Nov. 2 at the Metropolis Performing Arts Centre, 111 Campbell St., Arlington Heights. $34-$42. (847) 577-2121

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