Monday, April 4, 2022

LEARNING FROM LA CAGE: SELLING YOUR PROTAGONIST

This week I'm watching footage of the original Broadway production of the musical version of LA CAGE AUX FOLLES. And I'm finding it super interesting from a story point of view, so here we are. 

So after the opening with Les Cagelles, we're introduced to our main relationship of the piece, Georges and Albin. And then Albin gets a scene by himself. 

The show has the normal story goals for a moment like this: we want to introduce the dynamics of the relationship and lay out their roles within it. And having already met Georges and liking him both for running La Cage and for the knowing, playful way he interacted with us, we now need the moment that makes us love Albin. 

On the surface, neither of these goals seems particularly difficult. But in the context of the times, asking an audience of probably tourists to come and identify with a queer couple, one of whom is a drag queen, poses unique challenges. 

And how do book writer Harvey Fierstein, composer Jerry Herman and our Albin, George Hearn do it? 

First, they make the scene between the men completely familiar to straight couples. Albin cooked something special but Georges didn't come home for lunch. And he seems a little bored with Albin, which makes Albin worry about their marriage in his own over the top way. 

Honestly, it could have been lifted from I LOVE LUCY or THE DICK VAN DYKE SHOW, that's how familiar the scene is. It's a conflict every couple goes through. And just like that, the couple becomes something normal. Familiarity can often win an audience over.

And at the same time the scene still serves the scene's story goals quite well--this is a couple where Georges is the stereotypical working husband and Albin the stay at home wife. They clearly love each other but still, there is some loss or uncertainty. 

Then we get Albin alone, and the challenge is much the same--how to help the audience make an emotional and lasting connection with a drag queen. And where in the last scene the technique was familiarity, here the writing moves are intimacy and feats.  For four minutes we sit with Albin as he puts on his makeup. And as he puts himself together he speaks (sings) directly to us about what all of this means to him, the way it makes him feel about himself to dress as a woman. 

It's an absolutely genius move. In a way it answers the questions people in the audience might be having, but without feeling that way. What really sells us is utter vulnerability of the character in that scene.  He sits before us literally undressed and shares about his life. There's just no substitute for that kind of intimacy in selling an audience on a character. 

The other thing that really grabs an audience is a feat. We love a character that makes a big choice, even if it's a bad one, or who attempts something bold, even if they fail. As Albin's number starts there's no real sense of that happening here. He's just putting on a little mascara as he prepares to perform. But slowly over the course of what is just 4 minutes, without being flashy about at it, Albin completely transforms into Zaza.

I've watched a number of different versions of the scene now from other productions and I can't find anyone that is able to pull it off like Hearn does. Either they're already halfway done when they start, they go too big too fast, telegraphing where the song is headed, or they're too feminine at the beginning.

Hearn takes his time, keeps it low-key even as the song picks up so as not to draw attention to what he's slowly accomplishing here and give the whole thing away. And he starts as far away from where he's going to end up visually as possible, which is another great storytelling technique. Your protagonist is going to end up a fabulously dressed woman? Great: so at the beginning let's have him look and sound as male as possible.

When Albin stands up, fully Zaza now and throws his arms out the crowd goes absolutely wild. And with reason. He's done this incredible thing without us even really knowing he was doing it, and also--and this is so key to the feat of it all--he never leaves the stage. In fact he doesn't even leave his seat. The dress he's going to put on is unbeknownst to us already around his legs.  

Truly, there is no way you can walk away from that scene not loving Albin. He's shared too much and dazzled too well.