So many despicable men are flagrantly running amok these days that to watch mob antics onstage may feel perversely redundant. Despite the wealth of popular affection for “Guys and Dolls” (my own very much included), the misogyny shot through the 1950 gangster rom-com is as tacky and stale as an old pinstripe suit — starting with a title that literally casts women as inanimate playthings.
Before you yank me off with a cane, the revival at Shakespeare Theatre Company is roundly a delight: catnip for fans of Frank Loesser’s sterling score — which includes near-perfect songs like “If I Were a Bell” and “Sue Me” — and the sort of crowd-pleasing throwback that makes for uncomplicated holiday fun. Just maybe ignore my example and try not to think too hard.
The cleverly understated staging from Francesca Zambello (artistic director of Washington National Opera) effectively compensates for the musical’s retro underpinnings. Rather than glamorize the gritty streets of New York as so many others have done (including an acclaimed run at the Kennedy Center in 2022), the production is set in a thrift shop (designed by Walt Spangler), where it appears everyone is playing a bit of dress-up. The gamblers’ shabby-sharp getups (designed by Constance Hoffman) look as if they’ve been yanked from its hodgepodge racks.
If men run this town, and eventually even its sewers, the storefront where the action unfolds is squarely the turf of Sarah Brown, leader of a presumably hopeless mission bent on reforming the gleeful sinners of Times Square. (The dynamic lighting by Amith A. Chandrashaker helps map out the story’s various locales.) As played by an assured and subtly radiant Julie Benko, Sarah seems like the only one around here with her feet on the ground. Rather than the typical picture of prim restraint, she merely seems principled and pragmatic.
Miss Adelaide, a squeaky-voiced headliner of dime-store cabaret, is far less so. And Hayley Podschun is absolutely reason alone to buy a ticket: She’s giving the sort of enchanting comedic performance that makes everything around her vanish. And the trick she pulls off is the key to this entire enterprise, taking what could easily seem like a cartoonish character caught in a far-fetched plot and animating her with glittering vulnerability. (The script by Jo Swerling and Abe Burrows is based on short fiction by Damon Runyon.) Her Miss Adelaide is fizzy and daft as ever, but also achingly human and eager for her chance at happiness.
If only poor Sarah and Miss Adelaide could meet some worthy fellas.
The male leads face an uphill climb to seem deserving, and fall somewhere short of the summit. (When everyone tied the knot, I sighed, pondering the inevitability of divorce.) Rob Colletti lends the kingpin Nathan Detroit, desperate to land a spot for his roving craps game, a witty and almost simpering humility that’s enough to at least entertain his attachment to Adelaide. (She still deserves better.) And as the fly-by-night cad Sky Masterson, Jacob Dickey is pleasantly charming but rarely more: Sarah’s head-over-heels tumble for him comes as an abrupt surprise. (The “Baby It’s Cold Outside” tenor of Sky’s relentless courtship doesn’t help. Did I mention she’s the object of a bet? And that he tricks her into getting drunk?)
There is no shortage of charisma among the supporting cast, including Calvin McCullough and Kyle Taylor Parker, who jest and shimmy their way through the title number; Holly Twyford as Sarah’s flummoxed then impressed boss; and Parker again, making a sly and rollicking feast of “Sit Down, You’re Rocking the Boat.” The ensemble does nimble work with Joshua Bergasse’s polished and playful choreography, and the onstage band, tucked just beyond the shop’s soaring windows, does lovely justice to Loesser’s score.
Old-fashioned as the show’s gender conventions are — call a lawyer and sue me for sounding off, I’m still a fan! — Zambello’s treatment makes another studied nod to the present. This world of high-rollers and big dreamers isn’t a moneyed one: Most everyone appears to be just getting by, so the stakes to win a jackpot, at dice and in love, are appealingly heightened. Rooting for have-nots, regardless how mismatched their marriages may be, is a holiday tradition most people can get behind.
Guys and Dolls, through Jan. 8 at Shakespeare Theatre Company’s Harman Hall in Washington. About 2 hours and 30 minutes with an intermission. shakespearetheatre.org.
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