By Jeff Nelson
Knockin’ ‘Em Dead, a musical version of the life of gangster Al Capon, is the latest in a string of mediocre productions to come from the American Renegade Theatre. Director David Cox and his partners in crime have gone in way over their heads this time, however, and produced something truly awful. If the American Renegade is trying to establish itself as the worst theatre in the NoHo Arts District, this show will most certainly help them secure that reputation. Discriminating theatregoers vill stay as far away from this disaster as possible.
The failure of Knockin’ ‘Em Dead is particularly disappointing considering the position the American Renegade wishes to occupy in the Arts District. David Cox is often cited as the “visionary” of North Hollywood, and it is true that many positive developments in the area are a result of his hard work and dedication to the Arts District idea. However, Mr. Cox must realize that in order for there to be an “Arts District,” one of the necessary components is art. The audiences in this district have high standards for what they see and demand more, much more, than this show delivers. Mr. Cox’s failure is that he does not exact from his company the level of excellence that the NoHo audience desires.
The main problem with Knockin’ ‘Em Dead is its abominable script, written, along with the music and lyrics, by Mike Reynolds. Completely lacking in conflict, character development, or credible situations, it consists mainly of a rapid-fire series of sketches that catalogue the main events of Al Capone’s life in chronological order, like a timeline in an encyclopedia. Often these expository scenes are less than a minute long, or performed off-stage, or in blackout, leaving one to wonder why they were even included in the first place. And never once does Reynolds ask the serious questions about the meaning of Capone’s life, or what the canonization of such a ruthless killer in the iconography of the American mind says about those who venerate him. In fact, Knockin “Em Dead treats Capone as a kind of misunderstood and lovable cartoon figure from the past —- a character that should not be taken any more seriously than the Charleston, flagpole sitters, or bathtub gin. For all that, this trivialization of Capone’s life, and Reynolds reluctance (or inability) to explore honestly the contradictions and complexities of his subject, actuallv have the odd and unintended effect of exposing the lie of Capone’s status as anti-hero. Even through a dense haze of treacly nostalgia and cloying sentimentality, Capone emerges as a reprehensible figure —– a self-centered killer and no Disney-esque production number or dimly lit dream ballet can cover the ugly nakedness of this fact. In fact, one leaves Knockin’ Em Dead asking why anyone would even want to try.
As for the acting, singing, and dancing in the show, well, let’s just say that the cast is large. But even that characteristic is a liability when the entire company crowds together on a set that barely leaves room to raise an eyebrow, much less dance. As Al Capone, Josh Cruze gamely hacks his way through this mess, but he is hopelessly lost, and ends up in much the same place as he began. Cheryl Cameron, as Capone’s bland and long-suffering wife Mae, is bland and long-suffering. The various gangsters, molls, flower sellers, FBI men, detectives, reporters, and prison officials that populate this production are treated as little more than scenery, mannequins who stare into space or gesticulate silently among themselves until they are required to actually do something, like sing, dance, or deliver lines like, “Hey, everybody! Did You hear that Al’s coming back to town?” About the only bright spot in this sea of mediocrity was Shandi Sinnamon as Ann Torio, who manages to sparkle, even when singing such numbers as “Best and Dearest of Husbands,” a pre-feminist anthem, or the utterly forgettable (I know this because I’ve already forgotten it) “Knockin’ ‘Em Dead.”
Which brings us to the music. According to the press release, “each significant event in the story is marked by a musical number exemplifying the time period. These numbers include a minuet, an operatic aria and a criminal trial performed in the style of Gilbert and Sullivan. As the plot progresses chronologically, the music tends more to the styles of later composers such as Jerome Kern and Duke Ellington, with a final nod to Rogers (sic) and Hammerstein in the epilogue.” The fact that the minuet, opera, and Gilbert and Sullivan do not exemplify the time period covered in this show reveal just how carelessly every aspect of this production has been treated. And nothing I heard approached the level of Kern, Ellington, or Rodgers and Hammerstein. In the end, one can only shake one’s head and wonder. Who saw merit’ in this monstrosity? Who picked this script? Who thought this was a good idea? Who?