There’s something undeniably magnetic about the way Tony Yazbeck and Ben Jacoby inhabit the world of City of Angels. Watching their rehearsal of 'You’re Nothing Without Me' feels less like a technical run-through and more like a conversation between two souls who’ve spent decades dissecting the same emotional terrain. It’s a reminder that theater isn’t just about spectacle—it’s about the alchemy of human connection, and these two performers are clearly cooking up something special. What makes this particularly fascinating is how their dynamic might reshape the audience’s experience of a show that’s been around since 1989. Sure, the score is timeless, but the way it’s interpreted now? That’s where the magic lies.
Let’s talk about the cast. Jacoby as Stine and Yazbeck as Stone aren’t just names on a program—they’re vessels for the story’s duality. Stine, the crime novelist, and Stone, his hardboiled protagonist, are two sides of the same coin, and the way Jacoby and Yazbeck navigate their roles could either deepen or fracture that tension. Personally, I think Yazbeck’s background in On the Town (where he brought a certain buoyancy to his characters) might give him an edge in balancing Stone’s noir cynicism with a touch of vulnerability. It’s a tightrope walk, and I’d bet he’s relishing every step. Meanwhile, Jacoby’s history with roles that demand emotional nuance (like his Tony-nominated turn in Gypsy) suggests he’ll bring a rawness to Stine that might surprise even the most seasoned theatergoers.
But here’s what many people don’t realize: City of Angels isn’t just a nostalgic trip to 1940s Hollywood. It’s a mirror held up to our own fractured relationships. The musical’s central theme—that love and art are inextricably linked—is as relevant today as it was in 1989. What this really suggests is that the show’s creators, Larry Gelbart, Cy Coleman, and David Zippel, were ahead of their time. They understood that obsession, whether with a person or a story, is a double-edged sword. And in an era where social media has turned self-expression into a performance, that message feels eerily prescient. The fact that this revival is happening in a small Maine theater, not on Broadway, adds another layer. It’s a statement: great art doesn’t need a megaphone to resonate.
Now, let’s dissect the production team. Hunter Foster, the director, is known for his ability to strip away the glitz and focus on the emotional core. If you take a step back and think about it, this is a risky move for a show that’s been staged countless times. But Foster’s approach—what I’ve seen in his past work—leans into the intimacy of the material. The cast list itself is a masterclass in contrast: Stephen DeRosa as Buddy Fiddler/Irwin S. Irving brings a comedic levity that could clash with the noir tone, but that’s exactly what makes it work. The juxtaposition of humor and darkness is the heartbeat of City of Angels, and I suspect Foster is banking on that tension to keep the audience hooked.
And then there’s the creative team. Jennifer Rias’ choreography? A detail I find especially interesting. The show’s original staging was steeped in film noir aesthetics, but Rias might be reimagining it through a modern lens. Imagine a dance sequence that nods to classic Hollywood but incorporates contemporary movement—it’s a gamble, but one that could redefine the show for a new generation. Similarly, the scenic design by Nate Bertone could either replicate the 1940s studio backlots or take a more abstract approach. Either way, it’s a choice that speaks volumes about the production’s ambition. This isn’t just about nostalgia; it’s about reinvention.
What raises a deeper question is why this revival matters now. The theater world is saturated with remakes and revivals, but City of Angels has a unique DNA. It’s a musical that’s both a love letter to Hollywood and a critique of it. In an age where streaming platforms have made storytelling more fragmented than ever, the show’s insistence on a linear, character-driven narrative feels almost radical. It’s a throwback, but also a challenge to audiences to sit with a story that doesn’t hand them answers. And that, I think, is what makes it enduring. The fact that it’s being staged in Ogunquit—a town synonymous with summer vacations and coastal charm—adds a surreal quality. It’s like bringing a noir thriller to a beachside town. The contrast is jarring, but that’s the point, isn’t it? Art thrives in dissonance.
As for the future, this production could be a launching pad for some of these performers. Danielle Wade, fresh off Mean Girls, has the vocal range and charisma to make Donna/Oolie unforgettable. Alysha Umphress, who’s already proven her versatility in On the Town, might be the wildcard here. Her ability to switch between Gabby and Bobbi could either elevate the show or become a liability. But that’s the beauty of live theater—it’s all about risk. And if this revival succeeds, it might spark a renewed interest in Gelbart, Coleman, and Zippel’s work. After all, the original cast included James Naughton and Randy Graff, both of whom are now legends. Could this production birth new legends? I wouldn’t bet against it.
In the end, City of Angels is more than a musical—it’s a meditation on the futility and necessity of creation. The line 'You’re nothing without me' isn’t just about love; it’s about dependency, about the need to be seen. As we watch Yazbeck and Jacoby rehearse, it’s impossible not to wonder: are they performing for the audience, or for each other? The answer, I think, is both. And that’s the kind of ambiguity that keeps theater alive. Whether this revival becomes a footnote or a milestone depends on how well the cast and crew navigate that tension. But one thing is certain: they’re not just resurrecting a show—they’re redefining it.
