Blackhurst’s Rose is ferocious heart of ‘Gypsy’

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Klea Blackhust is Mama Rose in "Gypsy" at Drury Lane.

Updated: January 31, 2012 9:39PM

Everything is, indeed, coming up roses for the Drury Lane Oak Brook production of “Gypsy,” thanks in no small part to a galvanizing performance by Klea Blackhurst.

The all-American story of a mother in relentless search of the American Dream and the daughter she pushes into the strip-tease business has a tragic-comic clarity in director William Osetek’s staging. It also has a tour-de-force performance from Blackhurst, who inhabits the role of the ultimate stage mother with a ferocity and a luminosity that sweeps the audience along in her wake. It’s a performance to make you believe that the title character in the Arthur Laurents/Jules Styne/Stephen Sondheim musical isn’t the ugly duckling-turned-mega-vixen Louise, but Rose herself.

That “Gypsy” is based on a true story — the memoirs of Gypsy Rose Lee, nee Rose Louise Hovick — makes a fascinating slice of showbiz history as well as an entertaining romp of a musical.

Osetek plays up the “musical fable” elements of Laurents’ book, giving the audience a set (excellent work by designer Martin Andrew) that mixes elements of cartooning and water color painting with realism. Scrolling title cards — in a font that calls to mind silent movies — clue everyone in to the time/place/overarching theme of each scene. It’s a delightful, retro touch that nicely evokes the show’s vaudeville-to-burlesque time frame.

Vaudeville, unfortunately for Madame Rose, was dying about the time she was trying to launch her young daughters onto the Orpheum Circuit. Baby June (who grew up to be actress June Havoc) is the dubious star of a hilariously awful act at the onset of “Gypsy,” a Shirley Temple-wannabe in a dreadful wig, garish costumes and choreography so cheesy it’s inspired.

Of course kids don’t stay kids for long, despite Rose’s insistence that nobody in the act is allowed to be older than 10. In real life, the act fell apart when June eloped at 14 (maybe 13; she and Louise were never told how old they actually were) with one of her teenage chorus boys.

Undaunted, Rose put an extremely reluctant Louise in the star spot. The gawky teenager blossomed only after she started playing burlesque houses. Shedding her clothes, a star was born.

But “Gypsy” isn’t about stripping so much as it is about dreams that never die, even if they do curdle into bitterness after decades of fruitless pursuit. Propelled by the driven temperament of a star and the nerve of Attila the Hun, Rose simply wouldn’t give up. Not even if it meant pushing her children into stripping for $1 a week at a flea bag burlesque house in Outernowhere, Kansas. Dubious parenting aside, her role was a thankless one. As Louise’s star ascended, Rose found herself ignored on the periphery, treated as a classless embarrassment while her daughter took French lessons and lived in five-star hotels.

That’s the dynamic that sets the stage for Rose’s Turn, one of the best 11 o’clock showstoppers in the history of musical theater. The song is a tornado of emotion, a nervous breakdown in music as Rose questions just why she’s spent the past 20 years striving in show biz. And while it’s unique to her situation, it’s also painfully universal. Anyone who has ever broken their back and/or their heart only to see someone else reap the rewards will relate.

Blackhurst may be the indomitable backbone of Gypsy, but she’s bolstered by an excellent supporting cast. Andrea Prestinario’s Louise makes a believable transition from awkward ugly duckling to vivacious high society swan. And as Herbie, Rose’s through-thick-and-through-thin partner (that is, until she prods Louise into disrobing), David Kortemeier is an understated bulwark of strength and loyalty.

With choreography by Tammy Mader, the trio of strippers in “You Gotta Get a Gimmick” succeed in bringing down the house, particularly the Amazonian bump-it-with-a-trumpet strutting of Cheryl Sylvester Avery as Miss Mazeppa. With Susan Lubeck as the refined Tessie Tura and Francis Asher as the electrifying Electra, it’s a novelty number to stop the show.

But make no mistake. With a belt like Merman and a presence to match, Blackhurst is the driving force in this “Gypsy.”