Why a Major Revival of Modest ‘Mattress’?

To its credit, the revival of “Once Upon a Mattress”--which opened at the Broadhurst Theatre Thursday night with Sarah Jessica Parker in the role that launched Carol Burnett--is not straining to be more than it is. Unfortunately, it also is never more than it seems to be.

This really is nothing but a cheerful, doggedly simple, meticulously produced kiddie show, a fractured fairy tale about the princess and the pea in which overqualified talents sell underwhelming jokes and pleasant songs for a few hours at grown-up prices. Parker is a sweetheart and a trouper, the rest of the cast is perky and game, John Lee Beatty’s lollipop-colored naif-medieval sets are pop-up-book perfect and Jane Greenwood’s costumes are often a hoot.

Since the 1959 musical has been directed by Gerald Gutierrez, however, we can be forgiven an expectation that, somehow, somewhere, someone knew something about the modest show that justified this major reconsideration. After all, Gutierrez is the man behind the recent discovery of such lost treasures as “The Heiress,” “A Delicate Balance” and “Most Happy Fella.” Although “Once Upon a Mattress” had a long run on Broadway and off, was produced twice for TV and is a staple of community theaters around the country, it has not had a major revival in New York for 37 years.

Alas, there was a reason. Mary Rodgers, daughter of Richard and a formidable administrative presence in the theater world today, wrote jaunty and well-crafted but basically unpretentious songs for this, her first, produced score. The show she created with lyricist Marshall Barer and authors Barer, Jay Thompson and Dean Fuller began life as a 45-minute sketch in the Poconos, then was expanded for the George Abbott production in New York.

But the musical comedy still feels like an extended variety sketch, one Burnett might have gone on to do on her TV show. At one time, the Oedipal jokes about the prince (a sweet David Aaron Baker) and his mom, the queen, (a scene-stealing Mary Lou Rosato) may have seemed racy.

Perhaps the very idea of a mute, skirt-chasing little king (Heath Lamberts) once was a titillation. Maybe the thought of an entire kingdom waiting hornily for the prince to find a bride was slightly scandalous. Certainly none less than critic Brooks Atkinson found the title tasteless.

Then again, if we read the early reviews right, the reason for the hit was Burnett, who, we suspect, played the role of Winnifred, the swamp princess, with a major dose of out-there clowning. Parker, who began her career as “Annie” and has returned frequently from movieland to the theater, is sneakily adorable as the spunky Winnifred--nicknamed Fred--but, somehow, the role is not the vehicle it must have once been.

As anyone who saw her play the starring dog in “Sylvia” knows, Parker has a terrific gift for physical comedy. She has the face of a lamb, limbs like pick-up sticks and hair like golden seaweed. Still, when her Fred climbs the 20 mattresses and flops around trying to get comfortable with the offending pea--allegedly her big moment--even she can’t make this stuff fly.

It’s delightful to see Rosato -- like Gutierrez, an Acting Company alumnus--get to show a bit of all she can do as Queen Aggravain, the imperious royal motormouth with a son fixation. Lewis Cleale and Jane Krakowski have just enough edge as the secondary lovers. And the queen’s confidant, Merton (Tom Alan Robbins), follows her around in a monk’s robe that, thanks to Greenwood, looks hilariously like a plush toy vision of death.

For the record, Rodgers has added a new song, “Goodnight, Sweet Princess,” for the prince to sing after he helps her cram for her princess test. Choreographer Liza Gennaro has made an amusing mock-dream ballet, but the big “Spanish Panic” dance number is, for all the punched-up variety, still monotonous.

All involved work very hard at being unassuming and, to their credit, they mostly keep it from seeming like work. But as the queen says to the jester, unfortunately, it’s “just . . . not . . . funny.”