Life's Clown

By T.E.Kalem

STOP THE WORLD--I WANT TO GET OFF

Book, Music and Lyrics by Leslie Bricusse and Anthony Newley

That whiny, petulant exemplar of aching self-pity, Littlechap (Everyman writ exceeding small) is back on Broadway after 16 years of blissful absence. This time the wind-up toy clown is played by Sammy Davis Jr. As thimbleful-deep in wisdom as it is mountain-high in pretentiousness, this musical means to imply that he is life's clown, as aren't we all.

Davis gives the role everything he has, which is both too much and not enough. Like Liza Minnelli, who was in rapt attendance on opening night, Davis is a claque person: his fans bestow upon him an adoring worship that outstrips the sum of his actual gifts. He is a passable dancer (though he does not dance in this show), his voice is only as strong as the mic it is hooked to, and an orphan out of Annie could match his acting. Like Minnelli, Davis projects the image of an overage child parched for affection, aggressively demanding approval, and working onstage with a grueling intensity. Not "no sweat" but all sweat.

Both Davis and Minnelli are personality pushers who market their mannerisms like commodities. If you think they are repeating themselves, they are. When was the last time they were caught doing anything remotely fresh? Their fans wouldn't stand for it. They come not to watch a show or to see the gods and goddesses of the tabloids deign to immerse themselves in specific roles. Such play-goers attend the theater only to bathe in the effulgence of celebrityhood.

That is the only discernible appeal of Littlechap, who himself wants desperately to participate in the gaudy rituals of fame.

Littlechap is a pip-squeak who dreams of being a Pooh-Bah. Starting as "a coffee-colored coffee vendor," he manages to marry the boss's daughter (Marian Mercer), and with the quickest of strides reaches the top as a national and international business tycoon. Along the way he accumulates a bevy of English, Russian and German mistresses, all played with great comic zest by the selfsame Mercer. There is less sin than smirk in these accent-prone escapades.

Shedding almost all its English allusions, the show is thoroughly Amer- icanized and pervasively vulgar. Littlechap shoots for the presidency and makes it, the first Black ever to do so. Running for office on a ticket of doublespeak, Davis capitalizes on his command of antic mimicry. Donning shades, he struts his way toward the black vote. He woos the hispanics with hip-swiveling tangomania.

Finally, he seduces his Jewish constituency by clapping on a Tevye hat and fiddling on the roof of his mouth. Felled by a heartattack, or possibly a stroke, Davis ends the evening singing that potent crowd- pleaser, What Kind of Fool Am I?, the song that probably contributed as much to the initial success of Stop the World as The Impossible Dream did to Man of La Mancha. Fool, Gonna Build a Mountain and Once in a Lifetime are the consolation prizes of an extremely tedious evening. The audience seems almost to come into the theater humming them. T.E.Kalem

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