Chanhassen Dinner Theatres makes a comeback with 'The Music Man'

The con man is getting ready to light up River City again.

When COVID-19 abruptly shut down "The Music Man" in March 2020 after only nine performances, the production team left the scenery up onstage at Chanhassen Dinner Theatres, as if to freeze the ghost of Harold Hill in place.

Artistic director Michael Brindisi hoped for a quick return to business.

"Initially when we closed, we said we're going to reopen in three days," Brindisi said. "I've never had a show open and close in a week and a half and then stay closed for a year and a half. Never."

Now, at last, "Music Man" is reopening this weekend as the first major indoor theater production in the Twin Cities to come back post-pandemic.

Meredith Willson's musical about one of the theater world's best known shysters lands at a time when the country is still reeling from the effects of the coronavirus pandemic. More than 600,000 people in the U.S. have died because of the coronavirus, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. Those who survived are far from all right. Some are exuberant, if still cautious, to get back in the swing of what has become a tenuously unpredictable life.

The vicissitudes of life also have affected the show's cast.

Some of the child actors in "Music Man" have outgrown their costumes — and their parts. Married couple Keith Rice, who played Mayor George Shinn, and Dena Olstad-Rice, who played gossipy Mrs. Squires, have left the show for family reasons.

Another married couple, Aleks Knezevich and Jessica Fredrickson, who respectively played a member of the barbershop quartet and an ensemble member, also are out of the show. They became new parents and Knezevich, who gave up medical school for theater, now works for one of the nation's leading medical technology companies. Another performer also is leaving for her new baby.

In all, about a third of the "Music Man" cast is new.

"We didn't foresee as many changes as we've had," said vice president and choreographer Tamara Kangas Erickson. "There's no time to start from scratch so we have the same choreography and blocking. But everyone's bringing so many great things and new energy to the room. It's an opportunity to create a new show."

Fourteen cast members are making their Chanhassen debut in "Music Man." They include Duluth seventh-grader Sofia Salmela, who's playing piano student Amaryllis, and Reese Britts, who was recently named Ordway Center's resident artist. He will step into Knezevich's former role, Ewart Dunlop.

But the bulk of the performers are coming back, including principals Michael Gruber, who plays title character Harold Hill, and Ann Michels, who plays librarian Marian Paroo opposite Gruber.

"The ones that didn't return didn't return because their lives changed," Brindisi said. "And just because we're returning doesn't mean we haven't changed. We have."

At the first all-cast rehearsal on June 25, Gruber got choked up. He was surprised by his feelings after the long, uncertain layoff.

"Honestly, I didn't realize how emotionally shut down I was until I got back in the room having 36 voices ringing out in that rehearsal," Gruber said. "We're all survivors. As a performing artist, I'm used to adjusting to what's in front of me. It's been an emotional week of joy and gratitude. How special it is to be able to come back, and so quickly, because it was all there waiting for us."

"Michael did burst into tears and he tried to cover it with laughter," Michels said. "To be back onstage — it's so powerful. That energy is shared between audience and performer; you can't duplicate that in a video format."

During the pandemic Gruber has taught voice lessons via Zoom. Michels expanded her list of talents by diving into nature photography to capture birds and animals in intimate moments. She also performed sporadically, including a concert with Keri Rodau.

Gruber and Michels also used their time away from their characters, and acting, to deepen their takes on the story and their roles. They could not help but reflect on the larger context in which the show now lands.

"I don't want to get political, but in the Trump lens, Harold would be a little bit sociopathic," Gruber said. "He doesn't care what people think. Then something happens with Marian. He opens his heart and takes her in. Then all of sudden he takes responsibility for something for the first time."

A year and a half ago, misinformation and "alternative facts" were, if not ascendant, certainly at a higher volume than they are today. The con man persona had representation in highly visible places in the culture. And the show, Brindisi said, offered a kind of hope for the real world.

"Harold Hill is looking for a way out of what he's been his whole life, which is a fake," Brindisi said. "He wants to be a real human in the same way we all want to be better people. In the end, he transforms the whole town and the whole town transforms him. It's a story about possibilities."

Michels also sees the threads of faith and transformation in the story.

"When the show froze, the focus was on the con man, and the hope that the con man can change," Michels said. "I truly believe that people can change, that they can recognize the error of their ways and make amends, and we have to have the grace and space for that."

In the show, Hill lies to the townspeople because he intends to swindle them. But in believing him, the people discover new, good things about themselves.

"Sometimes we just need permission to flourish," Michels continued. "Harold Hill came to town and gave people hope, something to be proud of. All of a sudden, the Pick-a-Little ladies weren't wearing their tight-corseted dresses. They were flowing with books on their heads and exploring parts of themselves they didn't have permission to explore before. It was transformational."

The new actors had rehearsals for vocals and choreography. They've watched tape of the performance from last year. Now the whole cast is throwing the show up after a week.

"I don't know if it's enough time or too much time," Brindisi said. "We'll see."

He likens the experience of getting his actors back onstage to summer stock theater, which he did in his early years in Bemidji and Albert Lea, Minn.

"We would put whole shows together from scratch in eight days," Brindisi said. "My first summer, I did 10 shows in 10 weeks. I don't know if any of them were any good. But as a commercial theater, we've always been on a tight schedule."

Some audience members are nervous about sitting beside strangers for dinner and a show, what could be a five-hour experience. Chanhassen has instituted safety protocols and has changed some of the staging.

"We no longer have reduced capacity but we are seating parties of only people who know each other for July and August," public relations director Kris Howland said.

Wait staff will still wear masks. The menu, which used to be a large, leatherbound booklet, will now be printed in programs. There will, however, be a laminated menu for desserts and wine.

"Those can be cleaned after every performance," Howland said.

The cast and crew must be fully vaccinated. Scenes are being reblocked as actors will no longer roll through the house, an interactive touch that audiences have come to expect.

"We're not mandating that all staff be vaccinated but we're actively encouraging it," Kangas Erickson said. "Whatever we can do to help you — time off, transportation — we'll support you in any way to get it."

Brindisi is excited to welcome audiences back into the theater.

"People are hungry for a sense of normalcy," Brindisi said. "But the biggest change for me in the pandemic was this whole self-evaluation and personal connection to the movement to be more inclusive. I did a lot of work starting in the summer of 2020, with family and friends. For me, it's always been about inclusion, not exclusion, and trying to break down the barriers to participation so everyone can have a wonderful experience coming to and working at the Chanhassen Dinner Theatres."

He describes the pandemic as forced pause "that gave us a chance to reflect on who we are and who we want to be."

Brindisi references Tom Friedman's book, "Thank You for Being Late," which he read and mused on during this period.

"When you push the pause button on a machine, it stops. But when you push the pause button on a human being, it starts," Brindisi said. "That's what we've all gone through with this pandemic, a pause that has got us started again."

Rohan Preston • 612-673-4390

@rohanpreston