Theater review
ONCE UPON A MATTRESS
Two hours and 15 minutes with one intermission. At the Hudson Theatre, 141 W 44th St.
In the fairy-tale send-up “Once Upon a Mattress,” Prince Dauntless the Drab finally meets the woman he’s been waiting his whole life for — Winnifred the Woebegone.
There is a similar feeling of fate in the new Broadway revival of the bouncy 1959 comedy that opened Monday night at the Hudson Theatre.
A show and a star have aligned. Mary Rodgers’ musical has found Sutton Foster.
Of course, Winnifred, uncouth and unwashed, is far from the picture of a princess. But it’s hard to imagine a more perfect fit for the role than Foster, whose 26-year stage résumé reads like a road map to “Mattress.”
In the raggedy royal, we can see shades of Janet “I don’t wanna show off!” Van de Graaff of “The Drowsy Chaperone,” accidental ogre Fiona of “Shrek the Musical” and even her turn in the recent “Sweeney Todd.” Mrs. Lovett probably has some critters nesting in her hair, too.
What a winningly funny mashup it is.
The production, directed in haste by Lear deBessonet, is not without its flaws. Personally, I’m tired of lazily staged, barebones Encores! concerts being lugged to Broadway like a surprisingly nice couch somebody found on the curb. Still, Foster is such a smash that you forgive most of the peripheral problems.
Think of “Mattress” as the foremother of princess-behaving-badly stories; those mold-breaking damsels who cause distress with their unapologetic individuality.
There would likely be no “Bad Cinderella” were it not for “Once Upon a Mattress” … which is a quote I doubt I’ll spot on the marquee.
The show, with a sharp new book by “Gilmore Girls” creator Amy Sherman-Palladino, is a spin on the children’s story “The Princess and the Pea.” It’s set in a kingdom whose citizenry is fed up with doofy Dauntless’ (Michael Urie) endless struggle to select a bride, because, until he does, no other subjects can get married.
Urie, who, having just starred in “Monty Python’s Spamalot,” has schlepped from castle to castle, is hilarious and instantly endearing as an heir with fewer brain cells than a hairbrush.
Enter — through the murky moat, covered in mud and grass — Princess Winnifred. Dauntless is immediately smitten, while his evil mother Queen Aggravain (Ana Gasteyer) would prefer to smite her.
As the monarch, I expected Gasteyer, so memorable on “Saturday Night Live,” to get more laughs. She nails being nasty, but comes short of being love-to-hate.
Eventually, Aggravain puts Fred to the marriage test: Is the slob a dainty enough lady that a tiny pea placed beneath 20 mattresses would prevent her from sleeping?
The palace is occupied by many other zanies whose subplots are more forgettable. “Mattress” was, after all, originally a star vehicle for comedic powerhouse Carol Burnett.
Pompous Sir Harry (Will Chase) is in love with Lady Larken, played by Nikki Renée Daniels with a resplendent soprano and an ear for a punch line.
And Brooks Ashmanskas’ Wizard can only manage Party City magic tricks, while Daniel Breaker’s narrating Jester is silly until he’s unexpectedly haunted.
The best part of the musical, though, are Winnifred’s fish-out-water antics. Fabulous Foster turns grape-eating into an Olympic sport and does a keg stand while in song. And, in an oddball quirk, she gives frantic Winnifred restless leg syndrome, preferring Russian squat kicks to handshakes.
The actress’ knockout “Shy” and “Happily Ever After” bring her powerful belt back after its sabbatical during “The Music Man” and “Sweeney.”
I only wish the staging around her were better.
Yet another production that began in City Center’s Encores! program arrives on Broadway with a mostly empty suitcase: a few pillars and awkward steps as a set, and the orchestra taking up half the stage.
DeBessonet’s “Mattress” is not a thoughtful, conceptual reduction — it’s just the formula Encores! almost always employs to showcase an old score. That’s fine for 55th Street, but it’s much too slim and straightforward for a night out on Broadway.
There aren’t any stylish visuals to transport the audience or bolster the humor, and the cast barely has room enough to dance the jerky “Spanish Panic.”
But a genuine star like Foster is exceedingly rare. As long as she’s playing Winnifred, nobody’s going home woebegone.
