When would a timeless children’s tale be entirely unsuitable for children’s theater? When it was 1942’s beloved and somewhat surreal novel, The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupery. Published after France’s liberation during World War II, French Aristocrat Transformed into a military pilot’s story has always been a mysterious, adult-oriented dream scene, in which a shaggy-haired young prince travels through space, landing on different planets (including Earth) and quietly broaching themes As delicate as love and as rough as our loss of humanity and the natural resources of the Earth.
“The Little Prince” is a beautiful and accurate story. But now try to imagine your baby sitting through it in gentle calm.
Enter Anne Turney. Directed and choreographed by Tourney – a pioneering pioneer best known for Cirque du Soleil’s acrobatic adventures, world theater and dance – and starring a horrifying international cast, Broadway’s “The Little Prince” was surely intended to open up the power of its wonderful dialogue to include children of all ages.
But not so fast. Tournié’s “Little Prince” had the same French international flair that it gave to “event” productions such as “Franco Dragone: Le Rêve” in Las Vegas and “The House of Dancing Water” in Macau.
That means a high pitched electro-acoustic soundtrack inspired by the tango choreography of Astor Piazzola and icy experimental Fuzak Laurie Anderson. (Chris Morrone, as Prince’s narrator, has the cadence of her voice similar to that of Anderson.)
This means that The Little Prince’s interplanetary journeys are unraveled by elegant video presentations without being too streamlined, allowing characters like The Lamplighter (Marcin Janiak) to soar into the endless night sky or gracefully across desert shores.
This means aircraft painters roam the air, motion artists circulate along the stage and multinational dancers undulating as one.
All this continues as he tells the autobiographical and allegorical story of a man who fell to the ground (Saint-Exupéry stranded in the desert after his plane crash), a precocious boy who dreamed of flying and looked forward to all things good (Saint-Exupéry) as a child, although some presumably the character could be Christ), and sexy musician, Rose (thought to be inspired by Saint-Exupéry’s wife).
Whether I’m an adult or a kid (and during my Saturday preview, Broadway was full of kids), much of this amorphous action is messy, confusing, and slow in the first act. It is strange, for example, that the prince, who is nothing more than a child’s slip in the book, is depicted by a muscular man and a child (Lionel Zalashas) with golden locks. For all his talents for balancing the ball and proper looks of awe and astonishment, he comes across as Harpo Marx.
While Aviator (Aurélien Bednarek) and the Rose (fabulous Laurisse Sulty) are closer to the original tale’s poignant view of its time (and to what Saint-Exupéry’s vision of space and the future looks like), other characters come and go very quickly to appreciate their goals, especially when they are Ineffectively adapted to present-day environments. There’s the selfie shot, the smiling Vine man (Anthony Cesar) the Joker, the hyper-irritable, base-colored businessman (Adrien Picot) and the big-haired drunk (Mary Minogue), all of which make for a messy story when combined with the narrator’s slowly rolling hair, leg, and magnet Fridge. (The narrator Moron is also the songwriter and co-director.)
Besides all of that, the aerial dance sequences in the first half of “The Little Prince” are sadly boring — pretty sure, but boring too. When a recording artist like Pink can create full concert tours based on her mathematical use of aerial acrobatics, it’s an art form that must develop their game.
However, for all the blurring, pseudo-newness, erratic clamor, and ill-manneredness of the first half of The Little Prince, the second half is brilliant, paced better, and sticks to tradition without giving up its dream-like qualities forward. It never appears as a combination of influences.
With much less atmospheric action than the first half, the few moments in Chapter Two that use elevators are special, spectral, and spooky — there’s even one death-defying piece that comes after the curtain call, like a Marvel post-credits scene. The actors and actresses seem a lot freer in the second half as well, using a more classically inspired type of dance (with a bit of Twyla Tharp-style choreography) in their portrayal of snake (Cerellata Ray) or fox (Dylan Barron).
In either case, their movements are focused and elegantly refined, and the second act dance in which the male actors dress in their female outfits is particularly effective and innovative. Even composer Terry Track’s score was less gossipy, more mellow and really mature with contemporary music clips in league with what’s happening on stage.
For all the craziness and gossip of the first half, the quieter second half of “The Little Prince” is more radical, experimental, adventurous, and truly engaging—for kids and adults alike.
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