Bravely Breaking the Rules

There’s a lovely, glancing moment in “James Joyce’s The Dead,” making its West Coast premiere at the Ahmanson Theatre, in which Sally Ann Howes and Marni Nixon--the music-teaching Morkan sisters of Dublin--perform for their delighted party guests a music hall-style song, “Naughty Girls.”

It’s utterly out of character for the Morkans, which is part of its charm. And Howes and Nixon bring their own musical-theater histories to the routine. There they are: the former Truly Scrumptious (Howes’ role in “Chitty Chitty Bang Bang”) and Sister Sophia, the “Sound of Music” nun able to climb every high note. Each 70 years young, and wonderful.

The ensuing revels are cut short by Aunt Julia’s shortness of breath, one of many intimations of mortality haunting Joyce’s pellucid short story, published as part of “Dubliners” in 1914. Joyce captured those crystalline moments of joy not so much undercut by the past as made more meaningful by it.

“The Dead” makes daringly few concessions to either new-style musical-theater bombast (it would be crazy for this story), or even old-style musical storytelling techniques. This is a musical set largely in a drawing room, wherein the party guests perform songs for one another. Only a handful of numbers in “The Dead” score exist as story-songs, in which characters sing about other characters, rather than simply to them.

In tune with Joyce’s reflective heartache, if not always to his rhythmic beauty, director/librettist/co-lyricist Richard Nelson’s show is precisely what Gabriel Conroy (Stephen Bogardus) calls his aunts’ annual gathering: A respite from “the bustle and rush of our everyday routine,” that routine being the likes of “Martin Guerre” and “The Scarlet Pimpernel.”

When “The Dead” closed earlier this year on Broadway, even before Tony Award nominations came out, industry observers said it was too low-key, too tasteful, too whatever to find a popular audience. True, probably. But it had its admirers. When a revival of “Finian’s Rainbow” dropped out of the current Ahmanson schedule, a remounting of “The Dead” took its place.

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Narrated by Conroy (Bogardus, in the role originated in New York by Christopher Walken), Nelson’s book ushers us into the Morkans’ drawing room. The intermission-less 100 minutes unroll in four sections: The parlor entertaining among Morkan family and friends; the after-dinner toasts and revels; a scene set in Aunt Julia’s bedroom (Nelson adds his own narrative particulars here); and a hotel room sequence, in which Gabriel’s wife, Gretta (Prince), reveals why a lament sung earlier in the evening affected her so deeply.

Nelson’s nonmusical stage works, high among them “Two Shakespearean Actors,” are unhurried, spacious affairs. His book for “The Dead,” which won him the Tony, doesn’t play like a musical libretto; consciously, it’s more like a play with the songs interspersed. Nelson’s direction, especially in the first half, has no interest in pizazz. It goes all the way into naturalism, with much milling about and unforced stolen glances.

Composer Shaun Davey’s score, with its patriotic odes (“Parnell’s Plight”), five-part harmony (“Queen of Our Hearts”) and regional tributes (“Killarney’s Lakes”) works well in these confines. In large part Davey and Nelson adapted their lyrics from existing Irish poetry, and from Joyce.

For all this, “The Dead” is not a show of wide dynamic range, musically or emotionally. Sometimes you wish for more, even with this exceptional cast--though I found myself wishing for a lot less from Stephen Spinella, the designated comic relief as wastrel drunk Freddy.

Nixon, Howes and Donna Lynne Champlin (as the Morkan niece) really do seem like a lived-in family. Bogardus lacks a certain gravity, but he’s an effective and open presence, as is Prince. Alice Ripley, lately of the Siamese twin musicale “Side Show,” carries a touch of mischief in her eye, as well as a wonderful, full-bodied voice, as Miss Molly.

Even with such sterling players it’s a bit jarring when “The Dead” amps up its emotional expression, as in the rousing “Wake the Dead” or the lament for a long-lost love, “Michael Furey.” It feels like a different show at these junctures. A lot of audiences need those bigger moments, just as a lot of audiences will take to Spinella’s highly stylized, scene-grabbing antics. A lot of folks probably will wonder if the makers of “The Dead” were nuts to even try an honest musical-theater take on Joyce’s story.

It is a small and wondrous thing on the page. It is too small, certainly, for the Ahmanson. But as directed by Nelson, as designed in subtly rich tones by David Jenkins (sets), Jane Greenwood (costumes) and, most eloquently, Jennifer Tipton (lighting), it is also a work of stubborn integrity and high, careful, honorable craft.

Just don’t sit in the balcony if you can help it.

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* “James Joyce’s The Dead,” Ahmanson Theatre, Performing Arts Center of Los Angeles County, 135 N. Grand Ave., downtown. Tuesdays-Fridays, 8 p.m.; Saturdays, 2 and 8 p.m.; Sundays, 2 p.m. Also: July 30, Aug. 6, 13 and 27, 7:30 p.m.; Aug. 10, 17 and 31, 2 p.m. No performance Aug. 12 at 8 p.m. Ends Sept. 3. $25-$70. (213) 628-2772. Running time: 1 hour, 50 minutes.

Stephen Bogardus: Gabriel Conroy

Faith Prince: Gretta Conroy

Sally Ann Howes: Aunt Julia

Marni Nixon: Aunt Kate

Alice Ripley: Molly Ivors

Stephen Spinella: Freddy

Donna Lynne Champlin: Mary Jane

Angela Christian: Lily

Shay Duffin: Mr. Browne

John Kelly: Bartell D’Arcy

Russell Arden Koplin: Rita

Patricia Kilgarriff: Mrs. Malins

Brandon Sean Wardell: Michael

Book and direction by Richard Nelson. Music by Shaun Davey. Lyrics conceived and adapted by Nelson and Davey. Musical director Charles Prince. Choreographer Sean Curran. Scenic design by David Jenkins. Costumes by Jane Greenwood. Lighting by Jennifer Tipton. Sound by Scott Lehrer. Production stage manager Matthew Silver.