They knew what they had, and they stuck to it, from the fragile red rose ensconced in the glass dome to note-by-note renditions of the original songs that made the film score big with children and adults.

Knowing that both were "ever just the same," the Pittsburgh Civic Light Opera opened its 60th summer season in grand style Tuesday evening with its premiere of "Beauty and the Beast."

It was what little girls in fancy dresses and lacy anklets had watched on video, only better, and what the moms and grandmothers who brought them to the Benedum Center hoped it would be: magic.

The magic was most obvious in the stage rendition of "Be Our Guest." Animation allowed plates to spin and spoons to dance at amazing angles, but it couldn't give them life.

The dancers in the ensemble pumped the show-stopping number with an energy that only comes in live theater.

Likewise, the simplicity of Belle and the Beast dancing to the movie's award-winning theme song was the stuff of little girls' fairytales.

Such moments are the reason why theater will be a constant no matter what technology brings.

The actors also gave the characters nuances that animation can't. As Belle, Mandy Bruno - Marina Cooper on the soap opera "Guiding Light"- exuded a petite fragility, overridden by her strong, well-trained voice.

Brad Little's Beast wasn't as physically imposing as the animated character, but his voice bellowed.

Little was particularly adept at exposing the character's emerging sensitivity while wearing a mask that had to be cumbersome and hot. Perhaps that comes from his years starring as the Phantom in Andrew Lloyd Webber's "Phantom of the Opera."

Ron Wisniski's portrayal of Lumiere was outstanding. His comedic timing was impeccable, and he was able to be funny for the youngsters in the audience and suggestive to the older crowd. He and Jeff Howell, the show's tightly wound Cogsworth were in perfect tandem.

Sound difficulties in the first act might be a reason why Brian Noonan wasn't able to give nasty, narcissistic Gaston the over-the-top gusto it needed. Noonan brought a Jim Carrey swagger and muscle man vigor to the role, but his voice at times was impotent.

Jeff Skowron's antics as Lefou overcame any shortcomings when the two were on stage.

Disney did tinker a bit by adding several songs to Broadway show, the most memorable being "If I Can't Love Her," a ballad performed by the Beast.

The strong love story and the music give the performers what they need to make "Beauty and the Beast" good. They exceed that expectation to give this production a show that's a standout tale in the 60 years of the CLO's time.

The show runs through June 18.

Perhaps I'm softening (I never was very hard), but it would take a far more fastidious taste than mine to resist the energy and good cheer of Pittsburgh CLO's version of "Disney's Beauty and the Beast" which opened its 60th anniversary season Tuesday at the Benedum.

The basic story has an enduring, primal appeal, of course, which not even the most cynical of lowest-common-denominators could cutesy away. But what I most enjoy is the heart of the CLO show, embodied in winning performances that shine with fresh discovery.

I certainly didn't feel that when I first saw "Beauty" on Broadway, where I found it a slick machine, more like (an easy comparison) a theme park ride than a living musical comedy. But when the national tour reached Pittsburgh, I already knew the show's limitations, so my low expectations set me up to have a better time than I expected.

The third time I saw "Beauty" was last year at Chartiers Valley High School, a nice, lively version where the enthusiasm of the student performers melted the artificiality of the Disney product. On Broadway, a well-drilled professional phalanx of wheeling cutlery and crockery can seem a cynical rip-off of Busby Berkeley, all noise and flash without intrinsic style. But a gang of high school kids doing the same thing has a gee-whiz appeal you can't resist.

Miraculously, in spite of the CLO's undoubted professional skills, much of that same innocence adheres to its version. For this, I assume we have mainly to thank director Glenn Casale, who has somehow nurtured a sense of joy. You could even call it heart.

Not in the early village scenes, however -- these are just inescapably plastic, a sort of styrofoam diorama advancing the silly proposition that the lovely Belle (aka Beauty) is considered an oddball because she likes to read and giving us a robust taste of the comically swaggering villain, the self-worshipping Gaston. It doesn't help that the initial miking was so bad, an apparently inevitable consequence of the CLO's notoriously brief rehearsal process.

Anyway, "Beauty" doesn't really get going until we meet the quirky inhabitants of the Beast's castle and Beauty meets her fated Beast.

The heart that I speak of is found mainly in the youthful, spunky presence of Mandy Bruno, playing Belle, and throughout the Beast's half-dozen chief servants who are sliding irresistibly toward object-hood.

Witness the chiefest of these, Ron Wisniski, playing Lumiere, the effusive major domo who has slid half-way into candelabra-hood. Wisniski has played Lumiere many hundreds of times, mainly in that national tour. It would have been easy for him to mail in a polished performance. Maybe this being his hometown prevents that; maybe Casale helped; maybe it's his own professionalism; but whatever, Wisniski is clearly having fun with the role, taking Lumiere's dilemma seriously but also savoring his many opportunities to preen and philosophize, shamelessly exuding a self-satisfied savoir-faire.

Another local favorite, Jeff Howell, finds the fussbudget humor in Cogsworth, the butler sliding into clock-hood, Joy Franz unleashes a lovely warm voice and plenty of feeling as Mrs. Potts, the housekeeper, especially in the lilting title song, and she is winningly partnered by Colin McLaughlin as her son, Chip.

Christine Zavakos is a charmingly eccentric and curvaceous Babette, the feather-duster, and Ellen Harvey has a Carol Burnett-spoofing-grand-opera way with Madame de la Grande Bouche (the wardrobe).

Poor Brad Little is encased for most of the show in a Beast costume which (like that on Broadway) makes him look more like a bewildered bullock than a fearful fable. (Whoever enchanted him didn't have much imagination.)

But as the Beast discovers his own sweet center, Little makes us feel it, too, and the image of him with Belle is very winning. The Beast is just another Bad Boy Rebel (think the young Marlon Brando or James Dean) who needs a good woman to domesticate him into happiness.

As the bombastic Gaston with a sadistic streak, Brian Noonan works harder than anyone -- well, except Jeff Skowron, playing his punching bag, Lefou, a sidekick in the Stooges mold. Ray MeMattis is sweet as Bell's bemused father, but that's a another role that is more convenience than character.

In the ensemble you also find that youthful joy which helps counteract the Disney plastic sheen. Among them, Anne Horak, Alessa Neeck and Mara Newberry stand out as Gaston's comic fan club, and Neil Haskel is a somersaulting dervish as the Carpet.

The ensemble figures most famously in the big "Be Our Guest" production number, but with fewer dancers than on Broadway (or at Chartiers), that assault by crockery manages to be pretty spectacular while not overwhelming the story.

That's true of the CLO show overall. Even with 32 people on stage, "Beauty" never feels like a soul-less juggernaut, but a tale of standing up to malignant fate.

It's pretty child-friendly, too -- age minimum 5, I'd say.

The opening of the Pittsburgh Symphony Pops series last night at Heinz Hall was one of those musical bouquets that only Marvin Hamlisch can arrange and still come out smelling like a rose. "The Music of Lerner and Loewe" love fest was a program so hot off the presses that only the shows were listed -- and a stellar collection they were in "Brigadoon," "Camelot," "Gigi" and "My Fair Lady."

Lerner and Loewe are among the top in instantly recognizable Broadway partnerships along with Rodgers and Hammerstein (or Hart) and George and Ira Gershwin. Maybe it's that elegant ribbon of phrasing in Loewe's music that winds around Lerner's tasteful lyrics. But it's quite possible that these songs have never sounded so charming and so stylish as in the expert hands of the Pops musicians.

Hamlisch was the conductor, chief cook and bottle washer (nifty piano solos and serviceable dance partner), cheerleader (the financial plight of the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra) and unabashed admirer of Lerner and Loewe and Broadway in general.

But he left the major portion of the singing to a trio of experienced singers. West Virginia's J. Mark McVey soared through songs like "If Ever I Would Leave You," while the casually handsome Brad Little charmingly wound his way through "Gigi," leaving Teri Hansen to be a staunchly pert Eliza Doolittle.

In addition, "Mr. Pittsburgh" Jeff Howell provided a colorful turn in "I'm Getting Married in the Morning" and 10-year-old Rocky Paterra proved to be a scene-stealer in "Thank Heaven for Little Girls." And a contingent from the Mendelssohn Choir provided a stirring choral accompaniment to selections like "The Night They Invented Champagne" from "Gigi," where the members took to the Heinz Hall aisles.

Although pound for pound few could rival the success of Lerner and Loewe, a number of songs were repeated in some fashion through the evening, particularly the crown jewel of the collection, "My Fair Lady." The Pops orchestra arrangement was so substantial and so stirring that Hansen, Little and McVey found themselves playing second fiddle with what amounted to reprises of songs like "On the Street Where You Live" and "I Could Have Danced All Night."

Still, given the lush melodies and off-the-cuff patter, it was all a "Loverly" evening for Broadway (and Hamlisch) fans.

Jane Vranish is a free-lance music reviewer.

Some of the 20th century’s best tunes were written for Broadway, a treasure trove into which Marvin Hamlisch and the Pittsburgh Symphony Pops dipped for their first program of the season.

The weekend concerts feature singers, chorus, and actors in favorites from "Brigadoon," "Camelot," "Gigi" and "My Fair Lady" — all written by lyricist Alan Jay Lerner and composer Frederick Loewe.

Although Hamlisch offered some of his humorous ad-libs, he also read excepts from Lerner’s memoirs that provided an inside glimpse into the creativity of the team.

Soprano Teri Hansen, tenor J. Mark McVey and baritone Brad Little performed hits such as "Almost Like Being in Love," "If Ever I Would Leave You, and "I Could Have Danced All Night" with a little bit of acting at the front of the stage, even playfully involving Hamlisch. The singers were heavily amplified.

"Thank Heaven for Little Girls," a hit for grandfatherly Maurice Chevalier in "Gigi," received a charming twist when sung quite well by a little boy, Rocky Paterra. It was a delightful performance during which six girls came out to pay attention to him. The tomboy led him offstage.

Members of the Mendelssohn Choir added their power to the evening, and left the stage to sing in the aisles downstairs in "The Night They Invented Champagne."

Hamlisch opened the second half at the piano, playing a medley with symphony bassist Jeffrey Grubbs on bass and percussionist Andrew Reamer on drums. The medley included an instrumental rendering of "On a Clear Day You Can See Forever," which has lyrics by Lerner and music by Burton Lane. Other notable orchestral solos included concertmaster Mark Huggins and English horn player Harold Smoliar on piano.

The Thursday night concert also featured 24-year old Gretchen Bernatz from Ellwood City playing trumpet with the orchestra for a few numbers.

This concert will be repeated at 8 p.m. today and 7:30 p.m. Sunday at Heinz Hall. Details: (412) 392-4900 or www.Pittsburghsymphony.org.

Amid the ominous, multilayered passion that is the stage production of "Phantom of the Opera," the phantom's startling appearances each trigger a carefully crafted dramatic explosion. It is not terribly unlike what happens when Brad Little turns up at a sporting event.

Little, who plays the Phantom and whose sweet velvet baritone is the emotional foundation of the touring company's production at the Benedum through Sept. 18, is, in his free time, the Phantom of ballparks and arenas and of honored golf courses nationwide. A self-confessed sports nut, he's turned up at moments of great drama on a very different kind of stage.

"I saw Mark McGwire tie Roger Maris' record, and I saw him hit his 69th and 70th," Little was saying at Three Rivers Stadium the other night. "I was at the Connecticut-Duke championship [basketball] game; I saw a game in the NBA Finals; I saw David Duval win the BellSouth Classic at the TPC Sugarloaf course.

"And I was at Cinergy Field in Cincinnati the night Pete Rose Jr. made his major league debut. It was the first time Pete Rose had been back in the stadium [after his 1989 gambling banishment]. I've been so lucky."

A tedious nondescript snoozer between the Pirates and Diamondbacks with less than 12,000 witnesses won't likely burn itself into the Phantom's memory, but Little at least put a Pittsburgh notch on his national anthem registry with a rendition that was both robust and fittingly haunting.

"I like the song, even though it is difficult," said Little, whose singing has generally delighted critics all along this tour and whose stage credits include extensive Broadway experience. "You can more than just sing it. You can think about what Key was seeing as he wrote it. One of the neatest things I've had said to me was when I sang it at (Chicago's) Comiskey Park. Someone said, 'You know, I've heard that song so many times, but I never understood what it meant until tonight.' "

Just about everyone in Three Rivers, including the people who are there every night, understood what kind of anthem the Phantom delivered.

"That was something," said longtime batting practice pitcher Ken Saybel. "That's the best one I've ever heard."

Some of us who go back even further certainly compared it favorably with the 1979 Charlie Daniels version ("Baa the dohn's errly lat"). I mean real, real favorably.

Little enjoyed the pregame atmosphere, high-fiving with Derek Dye, a.k.a. the Parrot, who worked in Cincinnati when the touring company was there. The Phantom even met Tommy the Vendor, a.k.a. TC, and we'd have asked the Phantom how that felt except that TC talked right over our introduction and quite possibly favored the Phantom with some partial WNBA playoff scores.

What we did get Little to consider though, was how his love for baseball and for acting sometimes feed on the same elements of drama.

"The sad thing," he said, "is that I always lose at the end, every night, every game. I never get the girl. At least these guys go out with a chance to win. I've told some players, 'Don't talk to me about a losing streak.'"

If that sounds remotely envious, even tongue-in-cheek envious, his larger point went right to the difficulty of what he does, of what everybody connected to the Phantom production does every night.

"The drama with baseball is all in the act and react," Little said. "I wish on the stage we had the opportunity to react, to be surprised at the direction the ball is coming from. The difference is, we know where it's coming from, but we have to pretend not to know. We have to imagine that we don't know.

"I talk with (Chicago White Sox broadcaster) Ed Farmer, and he tells me sometimes that he's on the road and he misses his family, but I tell him, 'Hey, at least you have an off-season. I have no off-season.' "

Little, who is married to actress Barbara McCulloh, has been touring in Phantom for two-and-a-half years and joined the touring company direct from the play's Broadway run. Though he's absorbed international acclaim for his performance as Jesus in "Jesus Christ Superstar" and his portrayal of Tony in West Side Story, Little has said he could probably make a career out of playing the Phantom. He said his body will tell him when to let it go, much the way an athlete has to decide when it's over for him or her.

Though the happy coincidences of the tour have allowed the native Californian to glory in his sports nut status, it's made him neglect his beloved Dodgers.

"I've got to bury my head when I think about the Dodgers this year," he said. "All that money spent and doing so poorly. I thought it would be between the Dodgers and the Diamondbacks in the West. Fortunately, I'm also a fan of (Diamondbacks manager) Buck Showalter. I always thought he'd take a team to the top."

Little guessed that McGwire's record-tying homer is the most dramatic moment he's seen, at least the most dramatic moment that he didn't create.

"It was amazing," he said, watching Brian Giles homer for the Pirates. "I don't even know if it's legal, but I made a videotape of it. I was sitting in the outfield with the camera and started following the ball, and then there are all these heads bumping into the frame, it's a great video, the camera getting knocked all over the place. I remember going to a bar right down the street from the stadium, and have never seen so much fun and bedlam in a place."

Explosive, no doubt. But the Phantom's come to expect nothing less.

It's the grandeur of it all -- the opulence, the effect that a crashing chandelier and brooding, dark romance have on an expectant crowd.
 
 

Baritone Brad Little, a Broadway veteran, on how he approaches playing the Phantom: "I don't think he's a real nice guy. He goes out and kills people. But there's a degree of debonairness to him, too." (Joan Marcus photo)
 

Andrew Lloyd Webber's "The Phantom of the Opera" comes with familiar songs and a familiar story line, but even the show's cast and presenters say it's the spectacle that draws the crowds. It's like riding a roller coaster for the 20th time -- you know exactly what's about to happen, but you still love it when it does.

So where does a mere actor fit into an extravaganza that is mostly about special effects? How can one performer alter the course of the ride without derailing the show?

"You would think a show like this is very cookie-cutter, but it doesn't have to be," says Brad Little, the third national touring company's returning Phantom.

Over the phone from Salt Lake City, where he's just rejoined the tour on the stop before Pittsburgh, his voice crackles and breaks, sometimes vanishing altogether. Little blames the bad connection on a faulty cellular phone. But there's something almost sinister about the way his baritone is digitally altered, the way its volume towers to a crescendo, plummets to a whisper and cuts out completely whenever the questioning becomes too personal. It's as if it really is the Phantom on the line, toying with me, teasing, setting me up for ... what?

For now the voice is pleasant and candid, polite and occasionally funny despite the distortion. Little is back behind the mask after a three-month leave from the role he's had for 2 1/2 years with the touring company. He's played Raoul in "Phantom's" endless Broadway run, Jesus in "Superstar," Tony in "West Side Story" and supporting characters in dozens of regional musicals. But Little says he and the Phantom fit together quite literally like a hand in a glove.

"I actually like to think there's a sexual appeal and yet a mystique and danger with him," says the intermittent voice, hesitant and distant, like Bruce Wayne discussing his alter ego. "I don't think he's a real nice guy. He goes out and kills people. But there's a degree of debonairness to him, too."

Debonair probably wasn't what Gaston Leroux had in mind when he penned the original "Le Fantome de L'Opera," based on rumors of a ghost haunting the Paris Opera. It certainly wasn't what Lon Chaney was going for in the creepy 1925 film. Lloyd Webber gave his Phantom an underlying sexuality that has been played differently by everyone who's had the role.

"He can be played very sympathetic," whispers the voice. "He can be pitiful. He can also be played very mean and nasty," the sound suddenly booming through the phone. "I want all of those aspects in what I do."

Little, with his reverberating baritone, was an unusual choice for a role written for a tenor. He uses it, he says, to add to the mystique.

"It makes me seem more of a father figure," he says. "Deeper. Darker. More grounded. My voice is very heavy, although I use some light moments for effect. I say 'You try my patience,' at the end of Act 2, and I go to a very low, guttural sound. You know, how your father would say, 'I'm very disappointed,' rather than yell, 'What are you doing?' When your father doesn't scream, that's when you know you're in trouble. Christine," he pauses, "is in trouble."

There's an awkward hesitation on the line -- the actor suddenly aware that he's slipped into character, or perhaps the Phantom realizing that he's given up too much. I say nothing, letting him sweat, curious as to which direction he'll go.

"I don't want the people to necessarily know what I'm going to do next," he says, finally. "I'm very fortunate to find that our artistic team prefers a bit of spontaneity. The only reason they would put me in a certain place is just for the lighting and visuals, not because some other actor did it that way before."

This Phantom's spontaneity has stretched the boundaries for Rebecca Pitcher, the former Pittsburgh Opera Center student who plays Christine. She understudied for the role on Broadway and joined the tour in Utah upon Little's return.

"He's very assertive, a very attractive Phantom," she says on a crisp, unhaunted telephone line. "He plays it very much in control -- loving at one moment, really scary the next. It's very exciting, because I never know what he's going to do. At one point he's supposed to drag me down to the stage, but sometimes he picks me up and puts me where he wants me."

Playing against an unpredictable Phantom, her reactions become very real, she says, changing the character of her Christine.

"I've found that [I play her] a lot stronger," she says. "In one scene, we call it the 'final lair,' he brings Christine out and throws her to the ground. I used to sing it more sadly. Now, I've gotten to the point where she's not sad, she's pretty [ticked] off. She stands up to him."

The technical effects in "Phantom" are staggering and a bit dangerous, adding an additional thrill to their improvisations. Stand in the wrong place at the wrong time and an actor could easily become Ground Zero for a moving chair, pyrotechnic blast or flying candelabra. In one show in Orlando, Fla., the chandelier didn't fall on cue, cheating the crowd of the show's greatest illusion. After the final curtain, says Little, he returned to the stage, explained the mishap, pointed and appeared to make it finally fall.

"The applause was endless," he says, the phone line echoing again as if for effect. "It's such a high-tech show, and I'd say something goes wrong with the show every day. So we're improvising to cover for mistakes, too."

After a brief interlude in which Little compliments the supporting cast and crew, he turns introspective one more time, that booming baritone nearly hushed.

"I find moments of lostness in this role," he says, slowly. "Moments where I can get lost in the piece. And that's all I can ask as an actor."

Who would have thought the old spook had so much emotional life left to give?

That's "The Phantom of the Opera," I mean, not Pittsburgh -- although the old town had a pretty madcap air herself Friday night. With the sweet sad tremolo of "Phantom" still vibrating behind my eyes, I exited the Benedum at a brisk trot, elbowing my way through streets awash with hordes drawn by Regatta, concerts, Mark McGwire and even a Barbie convention! Inside, electronic mysterioso; outside, fireworks pounding overhead; together, surrealism squared.

And yet I reached my desk still tasting that gulp of sadness. I can't remember feeling it before, and I'm a veteran of seven "Phantom" viewings, enough to put me beyond innocence, if not with the aficionados.

But I haven't seen it since six years ago when it last played the Benedum, so I was fresh. There's something to be said for knowing in advance about the mind-numbing allure of the staging and the silliness of much of the story. So prepared, I was readier to relax into the soft center where Christine and Phantom, Beauty and her Beast, dance their odd duet of seduction, repulsion and redemption.

The emotional force of this edition of "Phantom" owes a lot to the particular chemistry of Brad Little and Rebecca Pitcher, the Phantom and his Christine. It's Pitcher's spunkiness I like, an intriguing tilt to her torso and a handful of grit rescue her from dreamy vagueness.

Little's big contribution is a rich voice, willing to dive deep to stir fibers Christine doesn't know she has, and a fine balance of still menace and explosive vigor.

Andrew Lloyd Webber's lush music still has to cover up a lot of nonsense in story and lyrics. Charles Hart and the other writers only wave vaguely at rich themes in the raw material: the enigma of Christine's father, the buried story of the Phantom's past, the mystery of Mme. Giry. But give the book credit: Though it sentimentalizes the Beauty and Beast motif, letting Beauty transfigure Beast rather than the reverse, any tweaking of such familiar stuff is welcome.

Jennine Jones is a youthful Mme. Giry, too. I used to think the Phantom's mistake was to choose the wrong young soprano -- he might have fared better with Meg Giry, I thought. Here, her mother might be his best bet.

The rest of the supporting cast is just as solid -- Raoul, the managers, Carlotta, Piangi, all.

Doubtless there are many who will visit "Phantom" for the first time during this seven-week stay. They will discover that besides Lloyd Webber and director Hal Prince, the true heroine is designer Maria Björnson. "Phantom" is very much about its miles of gorgeous drapery. But to tell true, the flying swags of the opening flashback aren't here as well lit and featured as I remember

And let's face it: The once-famous chandelier has settled into dumpy middle age, with only a silly sashay, hardly a scary plummet.

But not to complain: It's still a visual feast. And there are the several parodies of opera and ballet to enjoy, all the funnier set in the sacred haunt of such arts, the Benedum.

How good was it? Well, believe it or not, Pittsburgh didn't race for the exits. It actually stayed to enjoy the curtain call.
 

---

...Articles and Reviews