Joanne Halev
Sailing On
Birdland, NYC, November 19, 2024
Reviewed by Alix Cohen
This is a show, we were told, in which Joanne Halev “looks back, looks forward, and sails on; it’s about love, sex, and babies, not necessarily in that order.” After having only sketched a self-introduction during her marvelous debut some time ago, tonight she rectified that. (Taking stock is not unusual in times of turmoil.) Halev was sincere; she displayed her stage experience and polish, but didn’t show off. Her chronicle was true, and her performance was authentic.
A few lines from “Sixteen Going on Seventeen” (Richard Rodgers/Oscar Hammerstein), including “You wait little girl,” segued into the sophisticated “Love” (Hugh Martin/Ralph Blane) with a penetrating vocal that might have given a teenager pause.
Halev spoke with deep affection and in a perfect local accent, about her early years in Maine. “My earliest memories are of the sea. Not only was I bawn in Maine, but I’m also a Jewish girl which meant no lobsta.” “Beyond the Sea” emerged in a musically fresh arrangement written by MD/pianist Alex Rybeck that enhanced the song. Halev was wistful, not pop-bouncy. Later, she bookended the show with “La Mer” in its original French (Charles Trenet/Albert Lasry).
A series of naïve, unconsummated relationships plagued her in high school and her early college years. Halev moved to New York City, and “from a very That Girl apartment” (the Marlo Thomas TV series) she experienced single life in the 1970s. The scenario she presented was familiar and sympathetic. “Nobody’s Heart Belongs to Me” (Rodgers/Lorenz Hart) and “Live Alone and Like It” (Stephen Sondheim) personified a devil-may-care attitude with a dash of casual irony. Ray Kilday’s bass added sass.
Of course, there is no free lunch. Francesca Blumenthal’s terrific “Lies of Handsome Men” described romantic disillusionment. “Sometimes I feel like ‘A Ship in a Bottle’” (Amanda McBroom) followed, fine grained and discouraged. “I’ll take my chances,” she sang as if to herself, “On the wind and the sea.”
“And then suddenly there was this man…” began a description of Halev’s husband-to-be. I suspect “Too Late Now” (Burton Lane/Alan Jay Lerner) was meant to signify kismet, but its she delivered the in more sad than hopeful way; the lilting waltz version was lovely. An anecdote that involved her grandmother led to a song about Halev’s first child and to another about a family reunion which that evoked her realization that she was “Becoming My Mother” (Brian Lasser). That one was skillfully acted (directed by Sara Louise Lazarus) as if she were facing a mirror with consternation.
Halev introduced Dilly Keane’s “Out of Practice” as an example of material written by women she admires, but that didn’t keep it from fitting the show’s theme given that it implied the singer had left her husband and was awkwardly dating. In fact she has not done that, and because the show was presented as being her own story, I found this disconcerting. In itself the song was entirely believable. The arrangement featured short phrases; the character navigated, and Halev exhibited aplomb and wit throughout.
The aria da capo, “La Mer” prefaced “Sailing On” (Alan Menken/Dean Pitchford). Rybeck’s lush piano swept us up. It wouldn’t have surprised me if Halev had risen from the stage and drifted off like a kite. “I go sailing in my dreams,” she sang. Deep sigh. An encore of Irving Berlin’s “I Got the Sun in the Mornin’ (and the Moon at Night)” capped the evening with grace and gratitude. One caveat: The show was occasionally bogged down with exposition.
