BACK
STAGE WEST
October
30, 1997
Tune
Boy
Composer/lyricist
Laurence O'Keefe makes the strangest things sing.
by
Rob Kendt
Laurence
O'Keefe was an actor until a few weeks before his graduation from Harvard in
1991, when he reported for a musical theatre audition to which the accompanist
had failed to show. An accomplished musician himself, he was asked to sit
in--and had his eyes opened to the audition process.
As
he saw his peers parade through a few bars at a time, O'Keefe realized, as he
recalled in a recent interview, "The other side of the table is the damn
place to be." And he was further nudged by the casting people that day,
who told him, "You did fine with the audition, but if you can do something
else well, do it."
Since
then O'Keefe has been doing something else altogether, and extremely well:
crafting sparklingly witty and apt musical comedy songs and scores, both on
demand and at his own initiative. A student at the Berklee School of Music and
a graduate of USC's School of Music, O'Keefe is perhaps best known to Los
Angeles audiences as the composer/lyricist for a number of Actors' Gang
extravaganzas, including The Imaginary Invalid and Euphoria. O'Keefe also served as
over-achieving musical director on one of this year's Ovation nominees for best
musical, the Colony Studio Theatre's Putting It Together, as well as on the
Colony's ambitious City of Angels.
Next
up for O'Keefe is a new Gang-related show, Keythe Farley and Brian Flemming's
long-incubating Bat Boy: The Musical, which opens this weekend in a "test
run" at the Actors' Gang's small second stage. Based on the infamous
tabloid monster created/discovered by the outrageous supermarket-aisle staple The
Weekly World News, Farley and Flemming's show developed over years, as the pair
spun several songs and show concepts out of their fascination with the News' fanciful stories of a
bug-eating hybrid of bat and human child reportedly found in a Florida cave.
After
several drafts of a script, Farley and Flemming realized that they had a good
story that deserved a real musical theatre treatment.
"We
considered the story we'd developed so good, we didn't want to do it with our
music," said Flemming. "We said, 'This story is better than our
music.' "
So
Bat Boy hung in the dark for a while until Farley and Flemming saw Euphoria, Tracy Young and the
Actors' Gang's magical mystery tour of drugs through history, for which O'Keefe
composed a rousing anthem about hemp, a panoramic Charleston about Prohibition,
jaunty ditties about alcoholism, trippy acid romps, and an amazingly heartfelt
last-act torch song. (He won an L.A. Weekly award for his score and is
nominated for an Ovation award for the show's sound design.)
"We
were blown away," said Flemming. In O'Keefe--who learned the art of
musical theatre largely by osmosis, study, and a few runs writing and performing
in Harvard's notorious drag revue, the Hasty Pudding Theatricals--they'd found
a showtune savant with an almost frightening command of the musical theatre
medium.
Just
Steal
In
a recent interview at a Beverly Hills apartment where he does a lot of his work
on an antique console piano, O'Keefe held court on the state of his art,
restlessly pacing to make a point, sitting at the piano to demonstrate another
or to show off some brilliant new songs from Bat Boy.
"The
Hasty Pudding Theatricals is a 150-year-old drag show, and in 150 years they've
distilled the essential building blocks of musical theatre--of theatre,
really," O'Keefe explained. "There are always 16 male actors; 10 or
11 songs per show; no more than three in the second act, or it gets too long,
and the last number is a torch song--then a kick line, of course. There's a
reason for that structure. It's not just the 'way it works,' it's the way it
is.
"This
knowledge was handed to me on a plate, so there's no guesswork. There's this
assembly line that does not at all take out originality--it just gets the
structure out of the way so you can make your art. So many artists today don't
have that, and they learn through trial and error."
The
motto of the parodic, endlessly recycling Hasty Pudding shows, O'Keefe said, is
"just steal," and that extends not only to snatches of melody but to
harmonies and structures, as well. He demonstrated by playing a song he wrote
for a Hasty Pudding show with a wandering motivic melody that suggested "Someone
Is Waiting," while the bass was subtly vamping the bridge of "Every
Day a Little Death."
Clearly,
this songsmith knows his Sondheim.
"I
love Sondheim's structure, his thinking, the way he works," said O'Keefe.
Indeed, O'Keefe's thinking about the medium is remarkably akin to that of
Sondheim, who has often explained that writing for musical theatre is primarily
a craft with a set of practical tools which can be learned, studied, dissected.
The art is what you do with them.
For
instance, O'Keefe compared his lyrics for one song, and the way they use
repetition in different contexts, to "modular Swedish furniture." And
he showed how Sondheim uses a burst of five syllables, leading up to a downbeat
on the fifth, to mimic human speech, and how Ashman and Menken appropriated the
trick for the entire song "Beauty and the Beast."
"Really,
there's a process, there's a skill," said O'Keefe. "So many people
distrust it, and say, 'Oh, it's a musical.' They don't take it seriously."
World
Making
Obviously,
the quality of O'Keefe's seriousness has to be put in context: an apple tree
singing "Eat me" or a penis singing to its owner as he trips on LSD (Euphoria), or the musical scene
in Bat Boy in which a veterinarian's wife instructs a bug-eating freak in
the fine points of geography, are not meant to be taken straight--just
delivered that way.
"If
the underlying material is ridiculous or weird, and you trust the material and
write a straight-faced song, it will come out weird," said O'Keefe.
"You write logically from what these people are thinking what they would
sing."
That's
at least in part why he relishes working with the serious theatrical pranksters
of the Gang, whose high-energy lunacy is always rooted in character and
conflict, which he values more than mellifluous voices and showbiz dazzle.
"It
can be so infuriating to give a song to a trained musical theatre singer and
only get a vocal line, and just hope that some time before the show opens
you'll hear the words in there," he lamented. "With the Gang, no
matter what actors I give a song to, they always get the phrasing right from
the start; they're people who understand character and have the right
priorities."
Bat
Boy
came to O'Keefe with a similar pedigree: "This is a project where the
characters are there--Keythe and Brian have done the work."
Now
O'Keefe's task is to make his work dovetail with the authors' to create
something more than simply a text.
"Musical
theatre audiences no longer accept that people just open their mouths and sing;
you have to create a world where that can happen, with rules that comfort the
audience," he said. "Look at Sweeney Todd, or Sunday in the
Park With George, or City of Angels. We hope to create our own world where you
accept that this boy is a bat who sings."
O'Keefe
has made stranger things sing before. At his best, his songs are indeed worlds
unto themselves.