Two Minutes' Traffic: Nine at the Kennedy Center

 Nine is such a funny puzzle box of a musical. In the production at the Kennedy Center, it's sleekly produced, directed with flair, cast with a score of talented performers, but all the efforts to adjust for some of its flaws seem to merely highlight them. Nine is the story of Guido Contini (Steven Pasquele) a film director in desperate search of, well, many things, and the women who surround them. Acting as both director and choreographer, Andy Blankenbuehler tries his hardest to bring more depth to the female characters, but it's a hard task when the show itself positions the all-female ensemble as part of the orchestra, part of the background, even part of the furniture. 

There are many standout performances, from Elizabeth Stanley as Luisa Contini to Carolee Carmello, who beautifully demonstrates why she's such a charismatic, easy hand in the spotlight in the "Folies Bergère" musical number. The costumes by Alejo Vietti are distinct and help to lend nuance and character to the ensemble, all while operating in an almost-entirely black palette. 

But the story presented by Arthur Kopit's book and Maury Yeston's score is Guido's, and while the cast strives to show the richness and nuance of other human beings around him, it only matters through his eyes and his perspective. Women are given glorious, show-stopping numbers, but there's a distinct sense of "I have to sing and dance about this because it's literally my only chance to try and make you understand I am as distinct and real a person as you are, Guido, wait, nope, I'm still talking, why aren't you listening and getting it?" There's a chance for Guido to evolve by the end of the show, but it's still framed within the context of his own self perception and indulgence, and the staging's apparent conclusion that this means he's now ready for an improved relationship seems hasty, at best. It's still Guido's world, after all.

All of this, of course, is the text of the show itself, and any director who wants to try and right the balance simply has an uphill climb. Blankenbuehler, however, makes such a fascinating misstep in his production that winds up underscoring the entire problem he's attempting to adjust.  The onstage orchestra that's a glorious feature of the Broadway Center Stage series at the Kennedy Center is set without an onstage conductor for 85% of the evening. Lily Ling, as musical director, occasionally is allowed onstage to conduct from a dramatic podium that's part of the overall set, but otherwise is placed offstage (I assume there is some sort of setup using the closed-circuit system that more frequently allows onstage cast members to see an offstage conductor that the orchestra is able to see this time). Instead of an actual musical director to lead them, Blankenbuehler has members of the ensemble "conduct" the music frequently. They look beautiful! They aren't conducting. The orchestra isn't actually watching and responding to the lovely way they move their arms in time to the music, because that's not what leading an orchestra is. It reads as an attempt to give the women power--look, if they can lead the orchestra, they can be the storytellers outside of Guido!--but its utter hollowness in aping and usurping an actual role and function makes any gesture towards agency ring false. 

It's a beautiful production that fights against itself, and despite the clever moves and wonderful talents, the puzzle box isn't cracked this time.