Her First Roman

By the time Her First Roman makes Broadway, all that is Bernard Shaw's will likely have been exorcised and the show no worse off for it. As is, this musicalized Caesar and Cleopatra is on so un-Shavian a wavelength that the original dialogue (nowhere close to the 80 per cent once required of Shaw's adapters) serves as Champagne to a gasoline engine. Songwriter-book writer Ervin Drake has made no try at the worshipful style of My Fair Lady: instead his idea is to set a romance in ancient Egypt and happily let it go at that. With the connivance of director Michael Benthall and designer Michael Annals, both of whom have their eyes in socket, Her First Roman is a snappy realization of this not awfully far-flung ambition.

Like most shows on the first leg of the road, this one carries excess baggage. Several of Drake's songs--"Just for Today," "In Vino Veritas," "Let Me Lead the Way," "The Things We Think We Are," and "The Parable of the Monkey"--have nothing going for them and should be ditched on that count. The first is corny, the second ludicrous, the third irrelevant, the fourth bad, and the fifth incomprehensible. By way of compensation, I'd suggest that if ever a name deserved to light a lyric, "Ftatateeta" does; that Caesar and Rufio might voice their contradictory opinions of vengeance and clemency in song; and that Caesar might urge Cleopatra to be a proper queen likewise. As long as Drake doesn't appear overly concerned about the incongruity of Shavian speeches and standard musical comedy numbers, he has lots of opportunities open to him.

To his credit, there are several first-rate tunes and some pretty fair lyrics in Her First Roman. I like a number called "Rome" for both elements, especially the following lyric: "Rome: I long to be at her side, a groom with his day-old bride, trading my dusty sandals for a home." And "Many Young Men From Now" has the added virtue of relevance, not only to the show but to the original play and to Cleopatra as Shaw conceived her. Drake would do well, however, to drop such hack-work as (from a song called "The Wrong Man"): "The world will call it wrong, but I must disagree: The wrong man's the right man for me." True, Her First Roman is in many ways a rather traditional musical, but it lifts free of cliche often enough for one to wish the break could be complete.

If even in its embryonic state this show seems better than average, it has to be because of Annal's magnificent sets, the best since Sean Kenny's for Oliver. Without much bulk, they suggest variety and expanse; without (I suspect) too much money, they suggest a show budgeted well over half a million dollars. The only unfortunate touches are a cartoon-blue ocean background in the lighthouse scene and a sickly dash of pink in the finale.

Benthall, the director, has made fine use of the surroundings provided him, and can be criticized only for not yet having coaxed any really sparkling performances from his excellent cast. Richard Kiley as Caesar and Bruce MacKay as Rufio are the best of a dry, consistent lot; the most notable object of disappointment is Leslie Uggams, who failed to convince me she can sing. Claudia McNeil, sadly, has little to do.

No amount of work will turn Her First Roman into a great musical. The entire conception is way too slapdash for that sort of miracle. But with doctoring short of major surgery, there's reason to hope for a solid show on a grand and comforting scale.