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Rigby soars in final ‘Peter Pan’
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
THEATER REVIEW: “Peter Pan.” Through Sunday.
J.M. Barrie’s Peter Pan is “the boy who wouldn’t grow up,” and so it seems is Cathy Rigby. After more than 26,000 performances in the musical’s title role, the former Olympic gymnast still has the sinewy arms, chopped-off hair and cocky demeanor to play the Lost Boys’ ringleader.
The “Peter Pan” at the Fox Theatre through Sunday is the 53-year-old Rigby’s final tour. But even after 14 years as the diminutive swashbuckler who steals away with the Darling children and turns Captain Hook into a crocodile’s lunch, Rigby remains a sparkling performer with the vocal musculature to match her athletic chops.
So skeptics, beware.
Like Mary Martin, who originated the part on Broadway in 1954, Rigby is a Peter Pan for the ages. No wonder Wendy Darling (Elisa Sagardia) is so smitten and Captain Hook (Howard McGillin) so discombobulated. Rigby’s Peter is the pint-size ninja from Neverland who whips the bad guys with fairy dust and gets the girl.
The opening scene, set in the Darlings’ London nursery, plays like Noel Coward for the bedtime-story set. Those Darling boys (Gavin Leatherwood as John and Shawn Moriah Sullivan as Michael) are mighty cute, bouncing around in their pj’s with their mini-Brit accents and shaggy dog (Ryan Mason). Nana, we love you! Doubling as Mr. Darling, McGillin makes a delightfully dysfunctional dad, or “cowardly custard,” as one of his lads labels him.
Thanks to designers John Iacovelli (sets), Shigeru Yaji (costumes) and Tom Ruzika (lighting), this production makes tasty eye candy for all ages. Freudian role-playing aside, it’s a wholesome family event and welcome summer outing.
But I’ll swear: As soon as we get to Neverland, all those pirates, Lost Boys and Indian warriors start to look the same to me. “Peter Pan” has a lovely score by Moose Charlap and Jule Styne, but after “Neverland” and “I’m Flying,” most of the songs are filler.
Can’t we get everybody rescued and ferry the Darlings back to England in a pat two hours and skip some of the inert singing and dancing?
If it’s getting past my bedtime, I can only imagine how it feels for the tired-sleepy-thirsty-hungry-squirmy short guys sitting behind all the tall people. Two intermissions? Come on.
Banish me to Nana’s doghouse if you must. But while Rigby soars, a good deal of this dated material just snores.
Signed, the Critic Who Wouldn’t Grow Up.
THE VERDICT: Soars and snores.
THE 411: 8 p.m. today-Saturday. 2 p.m. Saturday-Sunday. 7:30 p.m. Sunday. $20-$59. Theater of the Stars, Fox Theatre, 660 Peachtree St. N.E., Atlanta. 404-817-8700, www.foxtheatre.org.
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