Hungry actors impersonating cartoons. Joyous junior princesses (some actually children) floating in from the parking lot. A smell of Disney in the air. All this leads us to suspect that, in a fit of capitalist inspiration, Lakewood City Council has converted Beck Center into a theme park. Alas, that worthy idea has been nixed. But nevertheless, the industrious theater is giving us the next best thing with a return engagement of last year's nearly terrific staging of Disney's Beauty and the Beast.

For those seeking refuge from Scrooge, Santa and dancing nutcrackers — and all other forms of yuletide intimidation — it's an answered prayer. Here, redemption means a prince, rendered hairy for bad manners, turned into sensitive pop star by the love of a liberated maiden. It's a work far more inspired by Harlequin romances than the fairy tales of Perrault or Cocteau's intellectual surrealism. It demonstrates the old adage that each generation creates its own mythology — in this era, by turning its heroines into doyennes of liberation who teach beasts how to be sensitive.

Adapted from Disney's smash animated film, the piece attempts the precarious transformation from cartoon to flesh-and-blood Broadway musical. And, indeed, it works just enough to keep audiences merrily content, if not quite euphoric. With its millions of dollars worth of savvy, Disney has come up with a hook for every contingent. There's the snap-crackle-pop slapstick and wordplay for the kiddies, and plenty of swoony romance for adolescent females. For the John Waters bathhouse set, there's a hunky villain engaging in homoerotic antics with his besmitten henchmen, and for grannies, there are Jeanette and Nelson vocal pyrotechnics. To complete the transformation, the song quotient has been expanded 50 percent with numbers that charmingly aspire to imitate everything from Rodgers-and-Hammerstein waltzes to Sondheimian odes to self-awareness.

On Broadway and on tour, Beauty and the Beast played with the synchronized sophistication of an ice show and spectacle that Disney usually reserves for its Caribbean cruises. At Beck, it's played with a lot less budget, but a lot more humanity. Director Fred Sternfeld once again moves his actors like a traffic cop, but they have been cast with such perspicacity that you're happy to greet them at every intersection. However, if the occasion has one true savior, it's choreographer Martin Cespedes. All his dances come with idiosyncratic bursts of energy that not only beautify each cast member, but take the evening to that level of glorious professionalism that demonstrates why musical theater can be the equivalent of pure bliss.

Cespedes plays on beloved musical archetypes. Thus we see Josh Noble in a lustily-danced barroom brawl as the deliciously grinning, too-pretty villain. As the Beast, Dan Folino exudes a glorious comic neuroticism, wagging his tail like a Pekingese and snarling like Dustin Hoffman imitating the Cowardly Lion. Beautifully complementing Folino with her diminutive gentility is Natalie Green as heroine Belle. Blazing with humorous fire is Larry Nehring's string bean of a candlestick while, rattling with delightful porcelain intensity, Tracee Patterson makes a comely teapot. Fulfilling director Sternfeld's notorious insistence on complete back-story development of even minor characters, we also have thoroughly convincing dancing utensils, aroused villagers and swooning maidens.
Likely reaching its peak in its second time around, this production might be just the live lure to entice the kiddies away from their video games.

"Beauty and the Beast" @ Beck Center, 12/1. "Beauty and the Beast," or "10 + 666" as I like to call it, at the Beck Center in Lakewood is one of those shows that, in our ironic age, is widely disparaged by the kind of people who don’t go to musicals. Pay them no mind. The show is expertly constructed, and the songs move the plot right along brightly and catchily. There is nothing to dislike unless you’re so soaked in the postmodern brine that even just making sense is offensive to you, much less having a beginning, a middle, and a happy ending. It’s marvelously well-produced by Fred Sternfeld directing, Larry Goodpaster directing the music, and Martin Cespedes’s sinuous staging in the middle of Ben Needham’s scenic designs. The whole thing rolls inevitably across the proscenium and does that old theater magic.

This is the Beck Center’s second year with this show as its Christmas production, and Dan Folino and Natalie Green have returned as the Beast and as Belle. Is Folino’s wild physicality of last year a little less scary? Does Green have just a little trouble missing the warmth of Bill Kelly’s characterization of Belle’s father, Maurice? Perhaps Folino’s portrayal has been deliberately muted because he was just too frightening last year. Maybe Bob Abelman will find that playing Belle’s father as a whack-job instead of as a passionate visionary is what makes his scenes stutter a little. But it doesn’t matter because a well-constructed vehicle like this takes a lot more than that to send it off the road.

The servants in the Castle, Douglas Collier as Cogsworth, Larry Nehring as Lumiere, Kristin Netzband as Babette, Beth Cubbison as Madame de la Grande Bouche, and Tracee Patterson as Mrs Potts combine extraordinarily well. Collier’s comic timing in particular is marvelous. When Belle winds Cogsworth around her little finger to get him to let her have dinner after all, Collier is particularly good at making the audience wait just that millisecond longer for his line that makes it that much funnier.

Josh Noble purposefully overplays Gaston’s cartoon character with a swash and a buckle and a cheesy grin. He’s a lot of fun to watch – I’m sure it’s hard to see how much work goes into making a character look that easy. No one Gastons like Noble. And the Silly Girls this year, Kathleen Culler, Sara Carnes, and Katie Carr, struck just the right communal note of abandoned infatuation.

Adam Kapis as Monsieur D’Arque does very well again this year – he does with stillness what Folino does with movement: create a sense of menace. Folino has the harder job since he’s slightly built, but he moves threateningly around the stage and takes up the space with athletic agility. Kapis’s D’Arque is dark indeed by moving very little.

Finally, Zac Hudak as Lefou tumbles around the stage as Gaston’s fall guy with rubbery balance in the classic Bill Irwin sort of way, competing for Gaston’s attention with Belle, and failing. One of the interesting undercurrents in this production is how Hudak plays the relationship between Gaston and Lefou (though in a Disney production it is naturally pretty far under), but with those high spots of rouge that redden Lefou’s face, and with his body language both around Gaston and when Belle entreats him to help her find her father, Hudak does an excellent job of playing a man in love.

Everyone is obviously having a great time on stage, and the audience is wholly in their hands. A production like this is huge fun, a memorable evening of laughter and song and a few tears, if you’ve a mind to. Oh, just go see it. You’ll be glad you did, even if you want to think you’re a hard old ironist.

Disney’s “Beauty and the Beast” runs through the end of December at the Beck Center for the Arts, 17801 Detroit Avenue, Lakewood. For tickets, call 521-2540. Visit the Beck Center at http://www.beckcenter.org.

In my opinion, there is nothing like live theater. When done well, it transforms you onto the stage and into the story. It evokes emotion. It makes your heart beat faster and makes you forget work, home and obligations. The cast at the Beck did all of the above. When my five year old daughter leaned over with tears in her eyes after the Beast took Belle's father, I have to admit that I, too, had tears. And I am sure I laughed at least as much as the kids, but glancing over and watching their mouths hang open and hearing their belly laughs were priceless.

The singing was phenomenal and they added in new lines to spruce it up this year. For example, when the sexy dancing plates were on stage, Lumiere whispers "What happens in the kitchen, stays in the kitchen". It is impossible to single out one favorite performer - every cast member performed superbly and with humor. The bonus occurred after the show as the characters shook hands and gave hugs to the children. This heartwarming and gracious gesture meant everything to the audience.

I first patronized the Beck Center when my oldest son was 5, 11 years ago. He was so enthralled with their theater it bit him like a bug and he has been in middle school plays, The Near West Theater, and now a Lakewood High play. I urge all parents to take their children to live theater as soon as they are able to sit through a performance. We are blessed to have the Beck Center as well as the Lakewood Civic Auditorium, both assets to Lakewood. Be sure to put this activity on your family’s list!

Starting this week and for the next few weeks I will be unable to offer reviews of local area theatre. No, there’s nothing wrong. On the contrary. I am performing in the encore production of Disney’s “Beauty and the Beast” at the Beck Center for the Arts in Lakewood. During the December-long run of the show, Friday and Saturday nights are otherwise occupied.

What will appear in this column will be a series of backstage commentaries about the intricacies of putting on this huge, professional ensemble musical. This theatrical travelogue of sorts will provide a rare, full access peek behind closed stage doors and reveal the incredible energy and coordination that goes into a seemingly effortless production of this magnitude. Yes, this column goes investigative. Herb Hammer will continue to cover the beat so no show will be left behind.

Articles written in the first-person can be awfully self-aggrandizing, but I plan on being nothing more than a fly on the proscenium arch. Besides, the role I play in this show is far from leading and, in the spirit of full disclosure, I’m also doubling as a dancing piece of enchanted cutlery. It doesn’t get more humbling than that.

What makes the production of this show particularly unique and worthy of examination is that much of this huge cast is returning from last year, including most of the principal players—the Beast, Belle, Gaston, Lumiere, Cogsworth and Lefou. They all come with muscle-memory intact and, from day-one, are intimately familiar with the precise staging, elaborate choreography and complicated harmonies. They come with a collective history, earned through the investment of weeks of arduously learning and mastering this material and sharing its performance in front of sold-out audiences. They come with battle scars, in-jokes, and fully formed relationships. The new cast members are absolutely clueless and already behind.

Rehearsals began several weeks ago with musical director Larry Goodpaster teaching the songs and choreographer Martín Céspedes going over the dance steps for the ensemble. Both unknowingly instruct through a secret, short-hand language grounded in last year’s experiences—the “Courtney vocal transition” and “the part when the lights fade and the orchestra fills”—and, seeing many heads nodding in recognition, proceed at breakneck speed. The rookies are all qualified and talented performers and, with intense concentration and cryptic notes quickly written in margins of lyrics, manage to pick up the material without missing a beat.

It does not take long before an interesting thing starts to happen. A kind of creative convergence takes place. As if by intuition, veterans begin coaching newbies to help refine movements, timing and pronunciation. Stories are retold and, this time, explained. Performance experiences are shared. Comparisons are made between those no longer with the cast and the folks that have come aboard, and newfound strengths are recognized. The company begins to merge into a communal and collegial whole.

Sensing this, director Fred Sternfeld makes an informed decision that changes the direction of future rehearsals. He realizes that an encore production does not mean an identical production. At his disposal is a troupe of experienced players ready for a challenge and a capable core of eager newcomers. He begins to tweak things. Plans are put into place to upgrade special effects, costuming and props. The unique skills of new performers and the wherewithal of the returning cast are worked into the production, resulting in different interpretations of dialogue, modifications in staging, and new choreography. All of a sudden, everyone is learning new material and fond reminiscences of what transpired a year ago become less relevant and surface less frequently. New memories are being made and a new production is in the works. Next week: Zen and The Art of Dancing Dinnerware.

This is the second in a short series of backstage commentaries about the encore production of Disney’s “Beauty and the Beast” at the Beck Center for the Arts and focuses on actor preparation.

Famous actors like Marlon Brando are known for embracing a particular approach to acting that allowed them to generate incredible realism and truth in their performances. The Stanislavsky System, for example, requires actors to do extensive research into their fictional character's personal background. Casts of “Julius Caesar” that buy into this system live in togas to experience life as their characters. What experiences can an actor tap into when playing an enchanted tea pot?

The Strasberg Method, popular in the 1950s, emphasizes sense and emotional memory so that the actor can actually relive real moments during a performance. What recollections can help a performer play a singing salad fork?

The Meisner Technique focuses on a series of increasingly complex exercises aimed at breaking an actor away from a planned performance and toward spontaneity. One exercise is called "Repetition" in which two actors face each other and repeat an impulsive observation about themselves and the other person. What revealing exchanges can occur between dancing measuring spoons? “You’re ¾ tsp, I’m ½ tbsp?”

Most of the cast members in “Beauty and the Beast” are, at some point in the two hour production, enchanted objects. They are wearing larger-than-life recreations of dinnerware, flatware, household items and furniture. Director Fred Sternfeld is a firm believer that all actors, regardless of the nature or size of their roles, need to have a back-story that explains their existence and which motivates their actions on stage. After all, there are children in the audience and they will believe that these objects are real if the actors do. Even bewitched cutlery have a tale to tell.

During rehearsal breaks I asked several of my costumed colleagues about their preparation and whether one acting technique was more effective than another. Michael Green is, among other things, a wooden mixing spoon. He said he embraces the “Telletubby” school of performance art—that is, when dressed in foam rubber, all dignity goes out the window so you might as well BE the foam rubber.

Kristin Netzband’s character is a French maid turned feather duster. She seems to be following Anne Bogart's famous training system that prioritizes the physicality of a character and places more emphasis on its occupation of space, time and shape than on what it actually says. On stage, Ms. Netzband is a paragon of perpetual motion. Every part of her shape occupies an ever-shifting space in record time. It’s a wonder to behold.

The dinner bell is played by Adam Kapis. His motivation is the same as his character’s: to be human again. However, while his character perceives being a bell as an inability to lead a normal life, Mr. Kapis equates it to wearing a dog’s cone-collar. The Hershey Kiss-shaped costume makes it impossible to scratch the places that constantly need scratching. Mr. Kapis craves intermission.

Perhaps Melissa Smith-Beudert’s approach to being a napkin is the most commonly held among the cast. Ms. Smith-Beudert once worked at Disney World as a Princess who roamed the grounds chatting with visitors and signing autographs for star-struck little girls. She learned that, regardless of what was happening outside the boundaries of the theme park, she was the embodiment of the fantasy within it. While in costume, she was escapism and entertainment personified and that was all the motivation she needed. She was very Disney, as are all of us who strap on the foam rubber.

This is the third in a short series of backstage commentaries about the encore production of Disney’s “Beauty and the Beast” at the Beck Center for the Arts.

Clearly, the allure of this show resides in its classic storybook characters, its romantic storyline—“a tale as old as time”—about redemption and true love, its music, and its special effects. But the real magic happens behind the curtains and off in the wings of the stage. It is there that the scenery changes occur.

In the course of this massive production there are a whopping 24 separate scene changes that involve well over 25 individual set pieces. Weeks of rehearsal have gone into actors delivering believable characters and executing songs and dances with precision. However, the real work went into making fluid, seamless scene changes that give a sense of place to the performances and complete the illusion of the show.

Stage manager Tod Huffman is in charge and coordinates the activities of two assistants, Deanna Caudill and Steven Shack, as well as five crew members, intern Hayley Tupaz, and every single cast member. When not on stage, the 40-plus performers are holding or shifting massive curtains or moving furniture and set pieces. If not on stage or involved in the current set change, cast members are assigned the important task of staying the hell out of the way. Traffic patterns are crucial to one’s survival and are as choreographed as anything occurring in front of the footlights.

Some changes require only one or two individuals. Others, such as bringing in the West Wing of the Beast’s castle, require as many as a dozen people who are simultaneously placing this cumbersome piece in an exact location marked by a bit of tape on the stage while remaining hidden and silent. Stealth is a difficult feat when dressed like a whisk or pepper shaker.

Although scene changes are designed to draw little attention on stage, they are fascinating to watch and create extremely bizarre and haunting images from backstage. A scantily clad enchanted dinner plate, enveloped in dry ice fog and backlit in blue, can be seen tugging on a curtain cord with the kind assistance of a wolf standing on his back haunches. A surreal silhouette of life-sized cutlery pushing a statue of a girl with outstretched arms vanishes into the darkness as it moves from stage right to stage left.

According to Ms. Caudill, the most elaborate set change in the show is when the stage transitions into the Beast’s library. While the audience sees Belle and the Beast at dinner, behind a mid-stage traveler curtain are stagehands quietly moving the large library piece onstage, opening the castle arches and placing two large bookshelf flats into place. As the traveler opens to reveal this scene, the chairs, table and fireplace are quickly removed and two small bookcases are rolled onstage.

This show is also filled with special effects and stage magic, such as the transformation of the Beast into the Prince. Their mechanics can not be revealed but their existence adds an entirely new layer of complications to an already complex production.

The success of most musicals is calibrated by ticket sales, standing ovations, rave reviews and whether or not departing audience members are humming show tunes. For “Beauty and the Beast,” an additional indicator is whether the audience is asking “how did they do that” as they leave the Beck.

This is the final installment of backstage commentaries about the encore production of Disney’s “Beauty and the Beast” at the Beck Center for the Arts. The show closes this weekend.

When an evening’s performance is over, most actors in most productions quickly change into street clothes, arrange their wardrobe and props for the next performance and leave the theatre. Not so with the cast of “Beauty and the Beast.”

After every one of the 20 performances there is an audience “meet and greet.” Actors, in full make-up and costume, flow from the stage into the theatre’s lobby to share a few moments with the many children in attendance. They are wide-eyed and quaking with anticipation. So are the children.

Some of the younger children are paralyzed with awe and can not release themselves from their parents’ thighs. These little boys and girls are finally face to face with the larger than life characters whose fairytale stories were just told amidst bright lights, a cloud of dry ice fog and full orchestral accompaniment.

When Josh Noble enters the lobby the first wave of admirers is comprised exclusively of 10- to 14-year-old girls and their mothers. Josh, who plays the delightfully villainous Gaston, has the symmetrical good looks of a Ken doll. In his form-fitting, primary-colored costume and pony-tailed hairpiece, he is the spitting image of the cartoon movie character and is swarmed as the girls vie for proximity and a photo opportunity. They stare, ask silly questions about his perfect teeth, become embarrassed by how silly their questions are, and run away in pairs. Their mothers linger a little, all smiles, before fetching their daughters.

Then the younger girls, lower in the food chain, step up. One asks an earnest question about why the Beast turned into a prince. Josh gives a long and thoughtful response about the power of true love, to which the girl responds, “Your hair is fake!” and stomps off to find another victim.

Natalie Green, who plays Belle to perfection, is surrounded by adorable pre-schoolers. They are not mere admirers and they are not merely star-struck. They are infatuated. Many come to the show dressed in Belle costumes, some of which are hand-crafted, bejeweled labors of love and lace.

During bows on stage, Natalie looks into the audience and makes eye contact with as many children as possible, knowing how magical that exchange can be. In the lobby, she kneels and tells every child how nice it is to see them again. They give her long, full-body hugs, talk in whispers, and need to be pried away by a parent. Natalie stays until every child has been attended and is guaranteed a cherished memory.

Even members of the ensemble, who on stage work hard at blending in with each other, are singled out and asked for autographs. They sign creased, candy-stained programs and dog-eared “Beauty and the Beast” storybooks and always as their enchanted characters. “All the best, Knife.” Thanks for coming, Flower Vase.”

These “meet and greets” are not a contractual requirement and they are not at the request of the theatre’s management or the show’s director. They just happened, a natural outgrowth of a show designed to embrace its audience.

Live theatre can be an enriching, life-altering experience. No one realizes this more than the cast of “Beauty and the Beast.” As the lobby clears, it is hard to tell if these après-show interactions were more enriching and life-altering for the young children in the audience or the seasoned actors.