A true story that gripped the nation for two weeks in 1925 supplies the basis for Floyd Collins, Adam Guettel and Tina Landau's ambitious and much-admired folk musical.
Its off-Broadway premiere in 1996 established composer-lyricist Guettel (the grandson of Richard Rodgers) among a handful of bright young writers touted as the future of the serious American musical. Top theater pros such as Stephen Sondheim and John Guare have been among the show's most vocal admirers.
Masquerade Theatre is presenting the Houston premiere of Floyd Collins, its rendition is raw and uneven in many respects, yet sturdy in the all-important musical values, and thus, rewarding overall.
A tireless spelunker, Floyd Collins was searching beneath Barren County, Kentucky (yes, that's where it really happened) for his slice of the American Dream: a spectacular cavern that would bring fame and fortune to himself and his family. He felt he had found such a cave and was scrambling back to daylight through a narrow tunnel when a falling rock caught one foot and, proving impossible to dislodge, trapped him.
Alternating with Floyd's ordeal, the show depicts the conflicts of Floyd's family and neighbors as they strive to find some means of rescuing him, and the arrival of newsmen, gawkers and merchants peddling wares -- the crowd eventually growing to 20,000.
As the Ballad of Floyd Collins notes, Floyd "went lookin' for his fortune under the ground/Sure enough, his fortune is what he found." He became the center of the first modern media circus, the first real-life tragedy exploited (via newspaper and radio) as it unfolded.
Much of the time, Floyd is not totally alone. Homer, Floyd's brother, wends his way down to buoy Floyd's spirits with memories of their youth. Slight-of-build reporter "Skeets" Miller can get close enough for a series of face-to-face interviews. Yet no one can free him.
Act 2 takes things from bad to worse. A collapse in the tunnel cuts Floyd off completely, while much-debated efforts to drill a shaft to him prove futile. Above ground, the family despairs. Below, Floyd is left to contemplate fate and eternity.
Guettel and librettist Landau uphold the ambition and sincerity of the project's concept. Their aim is a sort of ballad opera melding authentic folk flavor with the more progressive style of theater composing -- Sondheim-, rather than pop-, influenced.
Floyd Collins is not perfect. There are some forced or obvious moments, numbers that do not land as intended, including brother Homer's Git Comfortable. One wishes Guettel would release his melodic lines to soar beyond the engulfing melancholia just a bit more often; whenever he does, the effect is exhilarating.
Yet the authors tell the story affectingly and the score has moments of haunting beauty in Lucky, Daybreak and Through the Mountain, all as plaintive as a patch of threadbare calico. Best of all are two lengthy solos for Floyd: The Call, as he wonders at his discovery of the cavern (cleverly playing on the yodeling "echoes"), and his lofty final aria How Glory Goes. Here Guettel achieves something akin to his grandfather's famous Soliloquy from Carousel.
Director Phillip Duggins has mounted a resourceful response to the show's unique challenges, certainly conveying the intensity of Floyd's plight, if somewhat overplaying the country bumpkin comedy in the depiction of the relatives and neighbors (who are meant, mostly, to reflect a noble simplicity).
Michael J. Ross' convincing acting and powerful singing of the title role carry the production. There is an eagerness in his exploration, pluck in the early stages of his entrapment, later despair and terror. He does well with the challenging solos, but needs to rein in his surging emotions in How Glory Goes so as not to obscure the lyrics.
The rest of the cast is uneven in acting and dialect, but most sing well. As Nellie (Floyd's sister), Allison Sumrall overdoes the comic element of beaming simplicity, but compensates by singing beautifully. Ilich Guariola lends edge and another strong voice as impatient brother Homer. John Chandler and Stephanie Bradow, as Floyd's father and stepmother, are limited in acting scope, but sing capably. Kory Kilgore's affable Skeets moves from opportunist to resident conscience.
The costumes, credited to Bradow, have a makeshift look. Amy Ross' setting, though rough-hewn, serviceably provides the different levels, tunnels and a central platform on which the immobilized hero rests. But then, Floyd Collins likely would be just as well served by being presented as an oratorio or a radio performance; this show's importance lies in how it sounds, not in how it looks.
Floyd Collins
When: 8 p.m. Thursdays-Saturdays, 3 p.m. Sundays, through Oct. 19
Where: Masquerade Theatre, 1537 North Shepherd
Tickets: 713-861-7045
