Review: 'Bullets Over Broadway' falls short

Is there some unwritten rule that if a Broadway musical has enough clever choreography, snappy tunes, and human traffic onstage you can get away with confoundedly stupid writing? Or "stooo-ped" in the gangster parlance of Bullets Over Broadway, the touring musical that arrived Tuesday for a run through Sunday at the Academy of Music.

Though Woody Allen is the show's credited writer, I refuse to believe that he authored the many lame fat jokes or that the original director/choreographer, Susan Stroman (whose work is recreated here by Jeff Whiting), approved the beyond-strident line readings that garble words and subvert any sense of wit.

The basic idea is excellent: As successful as Allen's backstage comedy was on film, it asks for musicalization in its story of an idealistic young playwright who, in 1929 New York, agrees to have his play financed by a gangster trying to make his trashy girlfriend a star.

We also have a pretentious alcoholic leading lady, an eccentric second-banana actress, a leading man who can't stop eating, and a gangster bodyguard who starts rewriting the play for the better. You're reminded of Comden and Green's screwball humor - which is based on legitimate human needs. These jokes are rooted in superficial behavioral impulses.

The score is assembled rather than composed. Songs from that general period - "Runnin' Wild," "I'm Sitting on Top of the World" - are conscripted into service, though even with modified lyrics they often seem tangential to plot and characters. The Act II grand finale, "Yes, We Have No Bananas," is nearly illogical.

Every Broadway musical walks a line between art and commerce, though this show tends to weave, lurch, and stumble, its lack of storytelling priorities leaving it with a compromised compass. Familiar tropes from Guys and Dolls, Chicago, and The Owl and the Pussycat - plus the blond in the yellow dress from Stroman's Contact - only remind you what you're missing.

The cast manages to be charming, with Michael Williams as the playwright, Emma Stratton as his leading lady, Jeff Brooks as his gangster ghost writer, and Bradley Allan Zarr as his corpulent leading man. But as the gangster moll/starlet, Jemma Jane goes for bombast so often you can't wait for the plot to dispose of her.

Though Stroman's choreography isn't always from her top drawer, it's still a redeeming factor. Near the end of Act I, there's a gangster ensemble with silhouette-ish lighting and dancers, arms stuffed in pockets, creating attractively abstract stage pictures. And when the Act II train attendants collapse in a heap, it's a well-shaped one. Is that enough consolation? Well, if you already have tickets . . .

dstearns@phillynews.com

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Bullets Over Broadway

Through Nov. 1 at the Academy of Music, Broad and Locust Streets.

Tickets: $20-$110.

Information:  215-731-3333 or www.kimmelcenter.org/broadwayEndText