Until then, the musical, a facile, satirical stage treatment of a far better movie, bounces from one insincere interlude to the next, doling out bits of exposition without establishing any compelling rationale to feel for its characters. It’s the definition of superficial — a tale of fraud, embodied by unconvincing people in an ersatz framework. There’s nothing to hold onto or care about, except getting on with the next production number.
Director Molly Smith, choreographer Parker Esse and set designer Alexander Dodge attempt to plaster over the deficiencies of “Catch Me If You Can” — which had an undistinguished Broadway run over a few months of 2011 — with a garish, Vegas-style glitz. The floor of Arena Stage’s in-the-round Fichandler Stage is lacquered bright red, the set pieces of the show’s interiors rising on an elevator in the center. An electrified canopy pulsates like a billboard on the Strip, and the chorus materializes in costumes by Alejo Vietti that are color blocked to resemble the geometric paintings of Piet Mondrian.
It looks as if a pretty penny’s been spent to raise up “Catch Me If You Can.” But as with the story itself of Frank Abagnale Jr., the teenage forger who lies his way into responsible professions and unsuspecting lives, the show drives an audience member to ask: To what end? Why should we be interested in watching Frank — in the guise of talented but too-suave and too-sophisticated Christian Thompson — undertake these amazingly easy deceptions?
For the movie, Spielberg and screenwriter Jeff Nathanson solved the problem, in their depiction of the complex relationship between Leonardo DiCaprio’s desperately needy Frank Jr. and pompous sad sack Frank Sr., played by an ideally seedy Christopher Walken. The son’s misguided desire both to please and surpass the father provided a satisfying hook for our sympathies, and DiCaprio’s magnetic performance, evoking in equal measure vulnerability and bravado, sealed the bargain.
Smith has embraced the more cynical and distancing approach of songwriters Marc Shaiman and Scott Wittman and book writer Terrence McNally. That is, the world is a gullible circus, dragged down by poseurs who appropriate the false values of show business. In hackneyed fashion, the musical turns Frank Jr. into the smarmy emcee of a ’60s TV variety show — imagine a kind of “This Is My Life” with a beaming dance ensemble. He guides us through the episodes of Frank’s elaborate ruses, as airline pilot, doctor and lawyer, shooting us frequent reminders via McNally’s meta-theatrical conceit that this is all a farce and we’re all in on the joke.
Life as an unending novelty act was handled so much more felicitously by John Kander and Fred Ebb in “Chicago.” Here, Shaiman and Wittman — who used the tools of pastiche so marvelously in “Hairspray” — conjure mid-century lounge singers and the stylings of superstars of the era such as Frank Sinatra and Sammy Davis Jr. Still, the rhythms of Frank’s rise and fall (based on a true story) aren’t accommodated well by the conventions of a classic musical. The sadness and loneliness at the core of Frank Jr.’s crimes do not come through poignantly; the only sensation you experience in the arch, overproduced numbers is one of hollowness.
You can feel, though, the extreme exertions of the cast. Jeff McCarthy and Stephanie Pope Lofgren play Frank Jr.'s estranged parents, and you wish they both had been given sharper moments. The script offers them too little help in conveying the characters’ affections and regrets. In the show’s other key role, that of Frank Jr.'s FBI pursuer, Carl Hanratty, Nehal Joshi is an assertive presence, but there is only so much one can do with an essentially one-note gumshoe character.
It is tantamount to a necessity in musical theater that an audience relates to some aspirational aspect of a central figure. Singing one’s feelings is a suspension of normalcy, and a song is a vehicle for planting a listener more potently in a character’s psyche. That kind of epiphany doesn’t occur in “Catch Me If You Can” until the arrival in Act 2 of Brenda, who through Podschun’s invigorating efforts adds a desperately needed note of tenderness to otherwise cold proceedings.
Her appearance comes too late to save the show. But it does give a spectator something to sing about.
Catch Me If You Can, music by Marc Shaiman, lyrics by Scott Wittman and Shaiman; book by Terrence McNally. Directed by Molly Smith. choreography, Parker Esse; music direction, Laura Bergquist; sets, Alexander Dodge; costumes, Alejo Vietti; lighting, Nicole Pearce; sound, Daniel Erdberg. With Alexandra Frohlinger, Rhett Guter, Kristin Yancy. About 2 hours 30 minutes. Through April 17 at Arena Stage, 1101 Sixth St. SW. 202-488-3300. arenastage.org.
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Review | 'Catch Me If You Can' fizzled on Broadway. A new Arena Stage production loses altitude in much the same way. - The Washington Post
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