Review: 'Amélie' is an amiable, whimsical romp that shines when in song
If you’re into whimsy, the musical “Amélie” has it dialed up to 11. Based on the five-time Oscar-nominated 2001 movie of the same name, “Amélie” features a singing garden gnome, a tragic goldfish, a song about figs named Figaro, a piano festooned with floral wallpaper and Amélie herself, a manic pixie dream girl with a heart of gold.
In Kokandy Productions’ Chicago premiere of the musical running through Sept. 28, “Amélie” is an amiable romp that’s at its best when in song. Fortunately, this is most of the time. Directed and choreographed by Derek Van Barham, it also has a saccharine, Pollyanna-ish feel that the movie somehow avoided. The plot is ripped from the pages of the Girl Scout manual: Do good, but don’t show off about it.
But when the music takes hold (score by Daniel Messé, lyrics by Messé and Nathan Tysen), the cloying sweetness of the Montmartre-set romance is tempered by an ensemble that spins sonic gold from a Pixy Stix plot. With music direction by Anna Wegener and T.J. Anderson, “Amélie” is as buoyant and uplifting as a balloon bouquet. Moreover, Kokandy’s staging is anchored by an extraordinary performance by Aurora Penepacker as Amélie.
The plot (inspired by an original story by Jean-Pierre Jeunet and Guillaume Laurant) follows that of the movie. Our quirky, doe-eyed heroine Amélie has a sad, traumatic childhood. Her father, Raphael, (Kelan M. Smith) is distant. She’s not allowed to play with other children, and is homeschooled by her mother (Rachel Carreras), who uses dubious geometry to indoctrinate Amélie with the idea that everybody is always and forever basically alone. Amélie learns to live in her fantastical imagination and while she eventually leaves home, her isolated childhood has rendered her incapable of actually getting close with anyone.
A set of quirky, serendipitous circumstances (plus a major meet cute) lead Amelie to love and her raison d'être: Finding ways to anonymously make other people happy.
As “Amélie,” unspools, the cast doubles as a band: Almost everyone on stage plays their own musical instruments — cello, piano, slide trombone, mandolin, ukulele, accordion, flute, clarinet, violin and various forms of percussion — among them. The music travels a gamut of emotion, from the upbeat energy of a Disneyland band to the lamentations of the broken-hearted.
The alluring score begins with Lucas Burr (who plays a blind beggar, among others) pulling the audience in with a gorgeously haunting accordion solo, a prelude that’s at once yearning, wistful and hopeful. When Penepacker enters with “The Flight of the Blue Fly,” her magnificent vocals and sunny charisma light up the stage.
Among the many musical highlights: The duet “Post Mortem,” featuring Amélie and restaurant regular Hipolito (Todd Aulwurm) is an exquisitely eccentric ballad of a sad cafe. As love interest and photo-booth frequenter Nino, Joe Giovannetti brings down the proverbial house with “When the Booth Goes Bright,” an anthem that celebrates art in all its weird and wonderful forms. Nino’s vulnerability and awkwardness, meanwhile, are utterly relatable.
“Amélie” also includes a cameo by Sir Elton John (Aulwurm again) serenading Amélie with a banger that’s part “Candle in the Wind,” part “Rocket Man,” and in Aulwurm’s ridiculously flashy performance, wholly its own.
Barham’s choreography reflects the show’s aesthetic. At one point, the cast becomes a human carousel spinning in graceful circles. In the pleading “Stay,” (an intensely aching duet between Amélie and Nino), the choreo hinges on a massive door that puts both characters in a liminal space they are desperate and terrified to leave.
Costume designer Rachel Sypniewski has outfitted Amélie in poppy-red, the vivid color standing out like a beacon against neutrals that the rest of the cast sports. G. “Max” Maxin IV’s set makes a fitting backdrop, the piano’s floral embellishment showing up on the pillars that have long defined the Chopin Theatre’s basement space.
“Amélie” remains bright even as it delves into sorrow. It’s a concoction that goes down like cotton candy. What gives it substance is Kokandy’s triple-threat ensemble of actor/singer/musicians, led by Penepacker turning in a performance of high-voltage star power.