If musicals are to be believed, everybody has a dream. All it takes is getting out there and putting on a show. The history of Funny Girl is steeped in this tradition, whether it be the premise centering around performer Fanny Brice, or the career-launching show it spawned starring Barbra Streisand. No matter what element one looks at, it’s easy to see this as the story of perseverance and overcoming life’s many obstacles. Despite all this, the relatable nature hasn’t garnered it more than a few radio hits and not much of a legacy. With the recent revival, Funny Girl has been taken on tour and inspiring new generations to get on stage and dance like nobody’s watching.
As the second national tour, a lot of scrutiny is placed on getting things right. If the recent stop at The Segerstrom Theater is anything to go off of, it’s a show that overcomes its dated premise with a cast that effortlessly puts on a show full of toe tapping numbers and sizzling spectacle. What it lacks in compelling drama, it more than makes up for with a cast that master the stage.
A lot of those reasons must be credited to the lead. The marketing has made sure to point out the star-making turn of Katerina McCrimmon, though it’s not enough to prepare one for experiencing the magic first hand. As Fanny Brice, she immediately brings an over the top charisma that weaves between the quiet misery of a performer lost in conflict and the exuberant force of belting out show tunes. It’s the type of performance that feels destined for legend. For a character that is notoriously hard to create something greater than flimsy caricature, McCrimmon finds an essence that is quintessential theater. Nowhere is that clearer than the showstopper “Don’t Rain on My Parade” where she sings at dizzying speed before singing full-chested. The effort is clearly on display and what McCrimmon has here is a calling card. Even if the show fails to resonate, she’ll always be seen as the saving grace.
The script, meanwhile, is maybe a bit too messy. Even with rewrites and updates, the story can’t help but be trapped in the sexual politics of the musical’s original release. Act I is vastly superior to Act II because it’s the palpable story. Fanny Brice’s story is endearing because she’s the equivalent of an unattractive friend who also can’t dance. McCrimmon brings a lot of humor to the vaudeville-level performances as she attempts to hold her own against the “professional” back-up dancers. It’s the type of satire that is delicious while reflecting her divide from conventional Broadway politics. Everything feels snappy, managing to convey a sense of agency for Fanny Brice that is inspiring.
It helps that her rise to fame is perfectly matched by her mother (Melissa Manchester) playing card games with her friends. It serves as a perfect scene change plot device that also keeps everything moving. The show feels inherently Jewish, especially in how it mixes the joy of theater with the melancholy of life’s many pitfalls. By balancing Fanny’s ongoing problems with her mother’s comedic bits, there is nuance that reflects decades of a career. They may not be executed the most obviously, but there’s still enough to make the thankless task avoid gimmickry.
Act II is where things begin to fall apart. Whereas Act I is full of comedy, Act II slowly shifts towards intimate drama that finds her victim to a loveless marriage. It’s a complicated story of a performer and the gambling addict she loves. Even if it’s true to story, it doesn’t make for entertaining drama, especially as it sidelines any sense of progression on Fanny’s behalf for someone who feels painfully conventional. Funny Girl starts as the tale of an innovator and finds something far too conventional underneath.
Which is a shame because McCrimmon knows how to compensate. Every scene finds her delivering something provocative and fresh. For a script that doesn’t always offer her the most profound material, she manages to wring out every emotion and carries the story through a lot of turgid plotlines. The audience is convinced that Fanny is a survivor because of how well she gives her an interiority that speaks volumes in solitude.
The supporting cast also deserves credit for making the most of Funny Girl’s limited appeal. Act I especially serves as a chance to see a variety show alongside the plot-moving numbers. Nowhere is that clearer than in a tap dancing number that keeps escalating until the entire room is cheering him on. Elsewhere, McCrimmon finds ways to make the hacky Ziegfeld-style routines feel immersive. Her handling of quips and asides makes the audience feel transported to another time. It’s easy to understand the appeal of Fanny Brice. When she’s on stage, she is a million bucks.
It's a shame that Funny Girl isn’t capable of landing the quieter moments with the same excellence. As drama and comedy butt heads more in Act II, it becomes harder to understand the unifying intention of the show. Where it starts as this compelling outsider narrative, it loses sight of any theatrical language to convey Fanny’s disconnect from her environment. Instead, it becomes something far more recognizable. The melodrama has its moments, but this is mostly a story several drafts from a better execution.
With that said, McCrimmon still delivers from the opening minute to curtain call. Every moment she steps on, the audience is drawn to her, curious to see what happens next. For a story about how stars are born in the least likely of places, it only feels right to find a diamond in the rough shining across America. For what Funny Girl lacks in being the most essential show, it more than makes up for right now with a performer that demands to be seen. It’s a tough role to pull off, and McCrimmon knocks it out of the park. It’s one that will linger in the back of the audience’s mind as years gone on. Hopefully like Brice and Streisand before, McCrimmon’s career is going to only be going upward from here. If the cheers in the room are anything to go off of, it’s only a matter of time.
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