[NEohioPAL]My Way review

[Matthew Putman]

I just read Ms. Howey review of “My Way”, the musical currently playing at
Weathervane, and thought that I should write a letter to Scene Magazine as
an angry anonymous theatre goer. My particular disgust at the type of review
in this weeks magazine is unique enough though that I will risk sounding
biased and admit that I do have both a personal connection with the piece
itself and with director Martin Cespedes who is a long time friend and
collaborator. In fact Martin in his director’s note mentions that Sinatra’s
music meant more to me than anyone he knows. When Martin first told me that
he would be directing a musical that included 50 Sinatra songs, and included
some terrific Sinatra lore, I was a bit worried. Worried that a Sinatra
impersonation was perhaps the least interesting thing I could see.  I have
always hated television movies about Sinatra. I generally can’t stand to
hear someone sing his music, especially when they try to sound like Frank.
Somehow impersonations always make me feel distanced from the real man, like
the true voice is inhuman. So, friendship, love for the music and all, I
worried that this most talented director, and the 20th centuries best music
would be nothing more than a nice but false evening at a community theatre.
By the second song however I was transported. I found that I was watching
one of the more honest presentations I have seen. Rather than trying to sing
like Sinatra, these four performers were themselves, human and warm. They
were dressing the part, dancing the steps, and drinking the drinks that
Frank would have. They were living, for those two hours, a beautiful life
that so many of us dreamed was possible when we saw Frank in a movie, or
heard him sing with a band. It was watching My Way that I learned something
about myself. Those singers never tried to be Frank, but instead realized
that paying tribute as themselves was more important. After all isn’t that
what Frank Sinatra was all about? He spoke, dressed and drank the way he
thought life should be lived, not the way it actually was. Ms. Howey
unfortunately has fallen into the most dangerous of critical traps,
cynicism. It is an ugly trait that reveals itself in some of the shallowest
of observers, who see merely the most superficial flaws, like the physical
traits of the performers. She has apparently taken the obvious approach to
comparing each cast member to Sinatra himself. I can’t help but to think
that if she were reviewing a 1930’s Major Bowes talent contest she would
comment about a sickly skinny Italian kid from Hoboken. She would remark
that it would have been a better evening to have seen a Crosby clone.
Fortunately for the rest of the audience they would have noticed a young and
most talented Frank Sinatra. I feel the same relief for the audiences at
Weathervane. They will enjoy and appreciate a most talented group of four
performers, paying tribute to Sinatra and reminding all of us what
entertainment and self discovery is all about.

Matthew Putman