Volse Triste

Do I Hear a Waltz?, a musical adap tation of of Arthur Laurents' 1952 play, The The Time of the Cuckoo, is a victim of jets and jet-set moral obsolescence. It is not old enough to be nostalgic and not new enough to ring true. It asks playgoers to believe that a thirtyish Madison Avenue copywriter (Elizabeth Allen) is making her first gaga-eyed trip to Venice. And it compounds disbelief by imagining this girl to be psychologically numb-struck and emotionally unhinged upon discovering that her Italian vacation lover (Sergio Franchi) is married. She cries when the curtain goes up, and she cries when the curtain goes down, and there is plenty to be sad about in between.

The score is at war with itself. Stephen Sondheim's lyrics are brain-dry and sometimes brain-shy; Richard Rodgers' music is moon-washed, and sometimes soggier than the Grand Canal. The choreography is either a slight or an oversight. In Waltz, company loves misery. The unhappy lovers consort with tour-frazzled Babbitts and an expatriate couple whose marriage is sinking considerably faster than Venice.

Girl copywriters had better bank the price of admission, save up plane fare, and go see Angkor Wat.

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