“The Beat of a Wandering Heart—The Songs of Marty Silvestri and Joel Higgins”
A revue is a curious inhabitant in the world of cabaret, often existing in a limbo between theatre and cabaret which at its best can benefit from the advantages of both, but can also suffer from the limitations. When it works, a revue can reimagine and showcase the musical and narrative strengths of the material in new and intriguing ways, jettisoning the original narrative and character drive of the songs for a new and captivating story; when it doesn’t, it can leave the lyrics and characters adrift in a newly created world in which they don’t comfortably settle. One of the most successful forms of revue is one in which the songs work for themselves, creating their own mini-stories which, with thoughtful and clever curating and placement, can weave a throughline that the audience can perceive (sometimes sub-consciously) without the need of a literal staging of those connections in the production. Legendary shows, like Ain’t Misbehavin’, Side by Side by Sondheim, and Starting Here, Starting Now are classic examples of this approach.
What those shows have in common, aside from exquisite staging and fine performances, is a wealth and diversity of great songs. Here is where creator, arranger and director Mark Nadler meets his first obstacle in the new show, The Beat of a Wandering Heart—The Songs of Marty Silvestri and Joel Higgins, that opened recently at The Laurie Beechman Theatre. Too often the material is not up to filling its four or five minutes in the spotlight with a distinct and involving story all its own. This is especially noted when saddled with the dual function of furthering an overall plot that is cobbled together with an, at times, problematical regurgitation of relationship and character moments that belong early in the last century. One can almost feel the cobwebs forming in the corners of the room at the treatment of the characters (especially the women) as cardboard cut-outs rather than flesh and blood humans.
This is too bad because in another setting the songs might have presented strengths that are suffocated here under the bluntness of the narrative. The cast, all talented and worthy of attention, does its best under the circumstances led by the brilliant Christine Andreas, who has long been a master of fusing the intimacy and subtlety of cabaret with the electricity and power of Broadway. She can build and burn and thrill with legit chops while never overwhelming or breaking down her character and story development. She gets the best songs—and she should. “Is This the Way It Feels to Love” is a contemplation of an extra-marital fling that is arbitrarily thrown in to spice up the plot (because in the show she is a woman scorned) but Andreas universalizes the questioning and yearning so that it becomes something much more. She soars with “Archie the Crow,,” a ”Meadowlark” wannabe that she lifts to heights I would not have imagined possible. In the extended, and at times confusing final round of songs she caps her performance with a beguiling “Too Bad for You, Too Bad for Me.”
My one suggestion to the rest of the cast (and any singers in the audience) is to watch her, listen to her, learn from her. Each of the other cast members has a moment or two to shine but too often they are trapped in the plot and perform at an intensity that is too big for the room and tiring after a song or two.
George Dvorsky has a rich, impressive sound that is sadly undercut by busy, “quirky” business meant to give character to songs that don’t provide it naturally. His moment comes with a seductive, guitar-led, “island” song called “La Serenissima” in which his easy charm and pulsing romantic sound hypnotize the room.
Casey Borghesi, in the younger woman role, is saddled with four or five songs (from various Silvestri shows) that give her the same moment to visit over and over—and that moment is big and brassy and loud which, admittedly, she does well. One or two of them would have been enough, especially since each of them is filtered through the dated misogyny I mentioned earlier.
The fourth cast member is James Harkness, also listed as choreographer. He is a good singer and a fine dancer but his work in this confined space with this non-dancer cast is awkward and at times cringeworthy. He is assigned the “young, seductive swain” part and he fills the bill but his numbers, other than his exciting evocation of New Orleans street-life in “Storyville/ Step Right Up,” offer him less to do than his talent deserves. I would like to see him in a full-fledged Broadway musical.
With a fine quartet including pianist/conductor Harry Collins, guitarist Paul Livant, bassist Benny Lipson, and drummer Ray Marchica and a cast of four singers there is precious little room to spare on stage. Director Nadler never finds a proper solution to this problem and the entrances and exits (especially those through the house) remain awkward and ill-conceived throughout. His arrangements for the band fare much better but the adherence to a single “plot” proves too restrictive to give the songs, no matter their quality, a fair showing.
With all this talent on hand, and 50 years of show scores by Silvestri and Higgins, it is disappointing that it drifts so far astray. If the songs were curated, and the show structured well enough to present and preserve the life and story in each one, and if it had been left to the audience to provide the connective narrative from the clues in the song choices and song order, the singers would have had a freer rein to create the excitement and investment of the audience that is somehow lacking in The Beat of a Wandering Heart—The Songs of Marty Silvestri and Joel Higgins.
###
Presented at The Laurie Beechman Theatre, 407 W. 42nd St., NYC, Nov. 11-15, 2025.
*Photo on BistroAwards.com homepage of Christine Andreas by Cliff Lipson.
About the Author
Gerry Geddes, critic for BistroAwards.com, is an award-winning director, writer, teacher, performer, lyricist, and a contributor to the podcast Troubadours and Raconteurs. He conceived and directed the acclaimed musical revues Monday in the Dark with George (Bistro and MAC Award winner), Put on Your Saturday Suit—Words & Music by Jimmy Webb, and Gerry Geddes & Company (in its five-year residency at Pangea). He has directed singers André De Shields, Darius de Haas, Helen Baldassare, and Lisa Viggiano. He has been active in the cabaret world for over five decades and has produced numerous CDs; his lyrics have been performed and recorded here and in Europe. Gerry’s workshop, The Art of Vocal Performance, is regularly offered to singers of all levels. His memoir of life in NYC, Didn’t I Ever Tell You This?, was recently published and is available at barnesandnoble.com. He is currently at work on his first novel.