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The revival of the 1978 musical The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas couldn’t be starting its fifty-city US tour at a more appropriate time. That’s because, as Gary Sandy remarked in an interview Tuesday morning on FM88s Break a Leg show, The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas is basically about hypocrisy. And hypocrisy is something we’ve seen quite a lot of since George W. Python’s Flying Circus moved its troupe of knaves, mountebanks, fanatics and fakes into our nation’s capital. Just in time, this show’s raunchy and pointed satire on public sanctimony arrives to remind us that those who make the biggest show of their morality are the least likely to have any.
The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas tells the mostly true story of The Chicken Ranch, a squeaky-clean brothel that flourished just outside of La Grange, Texas from 1844 until 1973, when it was shut down by the Governor following a week-long expose by a publicity-hungry Houston TV newsdroid. Names have been changed to protect the guilty, but the script by Larry L. King and Peter Masterson sticks pretty close to the facts, even going so far as to include some of the real Chicken Ranch house rules in the number “A Li’l Bitty Pissant Country Place”. It also gives us appealing and believable characters, a solid story, and moments of genuine sadness amongst the raunchy humor. Carol Hall’s music and lyrics carry the strong book along nicely with a memorable blend of Broadway and Western swing influences. Fans of the show will notice some minor changes from the 1978 original, including a new song for Miss Mona, but otherwise this is the same hit that last played here over twenty years ago.
The cast for this revival is strong, talented and energetic. As easygoing Sheriff Ed Earl Dodd, Gary Sandy is big, earthy, and totally convincing. Who would imagine that this is the same actor who gave us such a believably neurotic Mortimer Brewster in Arsenic and Old Lace several years ago? The guy’s got range. There’s also nice work by Ed Dixon in multiple roles, including the cagey Texas Governor who does “The Sidestep” (and very nimbly, too) when confronted with uncomfortable questions. There’s a touching performance from Roxie Lucas as Doatsy Mae, the waitress who has always wanted to - but never could - be less respectable. And let’s not forget Rob Donohoe, whose broadly comic “Watchdog” Melvin P. Thorpe is the ultimate TV phony.
This brings us to Ann-Margret’s performance as Miss Mona, who runs the Chicken Ranch, and here I’ve got a problem. About a month ago, Ann-Margret fell and broke her left wrist badly enough to require pins and a cast. The pins came out just one day before opening night, which means that she was almost certainly dealing with a substantial amount of pain and/or painkillers. So while it’s true that her performance was barely there and her delivery was marked short, breathy phrases regardless of the meaning of the text, I can hardly fault her for it.
What this means is that if you go to see The Best Little Whorehouse is Texas - and, given its many strong points, you really should, unless you’re a small child or John Ashcroft - be prepared to cut Ann-Margret some slack. She’s working under conditions that would convince many other actors - myself included - to throw in the towel and turn everything over to the understudy. That kind of old-fashioned showbiz Chutzpah deserves our support.
The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas plays the Fox through this Sunday. Call 314-534-1111 for ticket information.
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