My inner monologue during ‘Manilow on Broadway’

NEW YORK — Ticket in hand, and only a few minutes until curtain, I ascend the staircases at the St. James Theatre in midtown Manhattan to catch a weeknight performance of Manilow on Broadway, the mega-star’s concert event that plays through March 3. It’s cliche to mention that a large majority of the crowd are women, many of them giddy at the chance to see the big man behind such hits as “Mandy” and “Copacabana.” I enter and become one of the “Fanilows.”

It’s a packed crowd, although I’m told the balcony is closed, so I’m ushered into a wonderful mezzanine seat with ample leg space and a couple of rows between me and the dedicated spectators. I’m given a glow-stick (uh-oh, it’s going to be one of those nights) and a Playbill, two items that seem oddly in competition with each other for my attention. After breaking the glow-stick and seeing its neon green glow, I discreetly shove it into my jacket pocket, a little uneasy and nervous.

This is my first Manilow concert. I must stick out like a sore thumb.

The lights go out at approximately 7:10 p.m. The screams begin to emanate as a Vegas-ized medley of Manilow’s songs blast through the theater. Spotlights shimmy back and forth, and memories of Donny and Marie Osmond’s Christmas show on Broadway begin to surface. This is it: I’ve left the commercialization of New York theater and entered the uber-commercialization of Sin City. This isn’t the St. James anymore; it’s the Bellagio or Caesars Palace.

The red curtain ascends, and Manilow stands in silhouette, backed by his band and two supporting vocalists. He soaks in the moment, like a pro, like someone who knows this stance well.

For the next 80 minutes, this chart-topper winds his way through an impressive catalog of songs. From “Could It Be Magic” to “Can’t Smile Without You” to “Brooklyn Blues,” the man with the microphone attempts to earn every dollar from every ticket purchased in the house. It’s an exhausting feat, but one he somehow achieves.

I find myself transitioning from resistance to acceptance to full-on enjoyment.

What is my knee doing? Is it really tapping along to “Bandstand Boogie,” a catchy tribute to Dick Clark’s show? What is my head doing? Am I slowly swaying back and forth to the rhythms of “Weekend in New England”? That can’t be me standing up during the cover of Frankie Valli’s “Can’t Take My Eyes Off You”.

That Frank Sinatra was right: This kid’s going to make it.

Manilow is far from perfect. His voice struggles to reach the same heights it did in the 1970s. But there’s no denying that the man is an entertainer, through and through. His jokes are simple and funny. His personal anecdotes are short and appropriate. His energy is upbeat. The show seems built around his presence, much more than his voice. That’s a smart move. Are we really expecting him to hit the high registers? Does it matter that his backing vocalists take over sometimes?

The highlights are the softer songs when Manilow sits on the edge of the stage, offering hand kisses to the crowd. His love songs would seem cliche and weepy in less-skilfull hands. When Manilow sings them, they seem just about right.

The hits keep coming, one right after the other. There is not an iota of self-indulgence on the stage, no time to test out new material or venture too far away from the recognizable catalog. This one is for the fans.

When “Copacabana” and “I Write the Songs” finally emanate from the St. James Theatre, there’s not an unconverted spectator left in the audience. My neon glow stick may be dimming, but it’s definitely no longer tucked away in my jacket pocket.

By John Soltes / Publisher / John@HollywoodSoapbox.com

• Manilow on Broadway

• Starring Barry Manilow

• Currently playing the St. James Theatre at 246 W. 44th St. in New York City. Click here for more information.

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