Camelot

All right, so it isn't as good as My Fair Lady. But a musical doesn't have to match My Fair Lady to be good, and Lerner and Loewe's latest effort, Camelot, is a fortuitous combination of wonderful music, snazzy sets, and fine performances that is sure to be a hit in its own right.

There are some flaws, to be sure. Even though the show has been pared considerably, it is still too long. Perhaps Lerner and Loewe will not admit that an overdose of goodness can be almost as numbing as a large amount of badness, but the theatregoer begins to realize it towards the end of the two-hour first act and again in the middle of the second. Too many of the songs, especially in the first act, sound the same; often, when the orchestra plays an introduction, you can't be sure whether a new song or a reprise is forthcoming. And I found Roddy McDowall as Mordred incredibly sickening, even granted that he is playing Mordred.

But the virtues of this show well outweigh its faults. The costumes, designed by Tony Duquette and Adrian, and Oliver Smith's sets combine with lighting by Feder and choreography by Hanya Holm to produce several extremely effective scenes. In a way, it's a case of something being so far Out that it's In: often, one is repelled by large amounts of money spent on garish costuming and lavish sets, but producers Lerner, Loewe, and Moss Hart have obviously spent so much money, and spent it so well, that the result is a pleasure to the eye.

Lerner's book, based on the novel The Once and Future King by T. H. White, renders the Arthurian legend in humorous, gentle, and somewhat modern style. It traces the history of Camelot from its formation to its breakup on account of Guinevere's attraction for Lancelot, with just the right proportions of boisterousness and pathos.

The music would be the best Boston would hear this season, were it not for the fact that My Fair Lady itself is coming later. Memorable songs abound: "Follow Me," sung by Nimue to a failing Merlyn; "C'est Moi," trumpeted by a self-confident Lancelot; and the gloomy "Guinevere," rendered by the ensemble, dressed in subdued, monkish robes and standing in near-darkness.

Guinevere (Julie Andrews) and the ensemble have a fine time with "The Lusty Month of May," and Miss Andrews and the knights Dinadan, Sagramore, and Lionel do perfect justice to "Then You May Take Me to the Fair," another lively song. Guinevere and Arthur (Richard Burton) perform "What Do Simple Folk Do?", a cleverly conceived lament for the pleasures of the common people, with an expert comic touch.

Lancelot (Robert Goulet) sings the poignant and beautiful "If Ever I Would Leave You" to Guinevere with powerful feeling, but the best song of the show, in two separate renditions, matches both the mournful sadness of this number and the vivacity of "The Lusty Month of May." This is the title song, "Camelot," and when Arthur sings it to Guinevere in the play's first scene, it holds all the promise and joy of the new city in its melody and lyrics.

When "Camelot" is sung again, it is at the end of the play, and the miracle of Camelot, the city of the Round Table, is no more. A desolate Arthur meets a small boy who is imbued with all the good and none of the bad that came of the noble experiment, and who wants to fight for Arthur in the conflict that will dissolve Camelot once and for all. "Camelot" becomes a moving wish for what might have been and a statement of hope for mankind, as Arthur charges the boy to go back home and spread the true spirit of Camelot, which will live on despite what has happened. When Arthur sadly describes the "one shining moment in the history of the world," Camelot is more than just a show put on in a theatre in Boston. Arthur closes with the thought that, in the ocean of mankind that surrounds us, "some of the drops still sparkle," and, for a moment at least, you can almost believe it.

The cast, with the exception of Mr. McDowall, is excellent. M'el Dowd, as Morgan Le Fey, is appropriately unusual, and Mr. Goulet makes a handsome and robust Lancelot. Julie Andrews still has that "delicate air," but in this production she is overshadowed by smashing performances from Robert Coote and Mr. Burton, Mr. Coote, who will be remembered as Pickering in My Fair Lady, is a riot as Pellinore, with his blustery Britishness and total incompetence in any given situation. Mr. Burton's dramatic talents are already widely recognized, and he enhances that reputation as a perfect Arthur in Camelot. It is his hitherto unrecognized singing ability, however, that is so surprising, and that stamps his performance as something well out of the ordinary.