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The audience starts applauding as soon as they hear the opening notes of Dont Rain on My Parade.
They know what theyre here for.
And yet, once she actually starts to sing, its somehow better than expected.
Lea Michele has finally made it intoFunny Girl, and damn it: Here.
But you dont need me to tell you that Lea Michele can sing.
This is less a star vehicle than gladiatorial combat.
She makes it through with blood on the sand.
All that despite or, really, because Funny Girlitself is a dud.
(Harvey Fierstein rejiggered Isobel Leonarts book, though I wonder whether its jiggerable enough.)
In Micheles case, this works to her advantage.
Its like in Shakespeare, where the weather clears up when the right king is on the throne.
Its like shes hoping her Sketch Comedy 101 teacher will give her a gold star.
Theres an inherent cruelty to the humor ofFunny Girl.
Each of Fannys successes pulls her further from her husband.
Michele gamely runs herself into each sword, accepting the humiliation that comes with the dream role.
Even if you believe the worst about her, it elicits an odd pang of sympathy.
Perhaps buoyed by that enthusiasm, the cast around Michele feels stronger too.
If its the former, it worked.)
We know shes the main attraction.
Why are we away from her?
A lot of the costuming makes the ballyhooed Follies look cheap.
Yes, she can.
But also, its unbelievable that she can.
By coincidence or maybe not thats the honest nut at the core ofFunny Girlitself.
Claim youve got talent and theyll make you double down on your bet again and again.
Its fame as high-stakes gambling.
In line for the bathroom at intermission of a Saturday matinee, I saw the wager in action.
You owe me 20 bucks, a young woman was saying to her friend.
