Pure Piaf

Reviewed by Holly Bartges

WOW! Holy -----, OK I’ll stick with Cow!

Alex Ryer wrote and stars as Edith Piaf in Pure Piaf, the Life and Music of Edith Piaf.

Up until it was first announced that Alex Ryer would be performing Pure Piaf, I had never heard the name. I may be the only one on the planet who didn’t know who she was. Everyone I mentioned the name too, just said “Oh, yes, of course.”

If it wasn’t pure Piaf, no one could prove it by me. The Saturday night audience at Littleton’s Town Hall knew it was. Written by Ryer and directed by the most talented Melissa McCarl, it will be a tragedy if some theatre doesn’t pick up this production and give it the very long run it deserves. Pure Piaf is a first-class awesome knockout of smooth silken words diving deep into the heart and soul of The Little Sparrow, melding into gangbuster songs speaking to life, speaking of life, of love, loss, heartbreak, loneliness, surviving street life, World War II, and the Nazi regime. Piaf turned her talent loose to wrap her life experiences into torch songs wooing millions with her openly flirtatious spirit that glowed through her eyes.

Edith Giovanna Gassion met the world in Paris under a gaslight December 19, 1915. Her mother, a street singer, found the streets and alcohol much more appealing than her newborn. Edith idolized her father, who saw the Paris streets upside down as an acrobat.

With her unique deep-throated voice, Edith went from a street urchin songster to the most highly paid star in the world. 1936 marked the beginning of her recording career until 1963 when she taped L’homme de Berlin in 1963.

How did I know this if I had never heard of Piaf? I learned it through the enchanting show. I never saw Ryer. She never appeared on stage, and miraculously disappeared immediately after the show. Ryer wasn’t there. It was Piaf. It had to be. Everything I have read about her matches the person on stage.

When Ryer first wrote Pure Piaf, the Life and Music of Edith Piaf, it had to be more than inspiration. Piaf herself had to have sat on Ryer’s head guiding her all the way. So beautifully written, the commentary between songs goes far beyond dates and places. With a poetic spirit of celebration in the midst of a rough, sometimes cruel, always demanding, frequently scary passing the hat as a street singer, Edith made no bones about her life and her survival skills. With emotions running deep in shame, heartbreak, hunger, and courage, she transformed her survival skills into meeting her audience heart to heart, eyeball-to-eyeball, and soul-to-soul. Which is exactly what Ryer does on stage when she takes her own words transforming them into Edith. It is difficult at times to tell when the commentary leaves off and the songs begin. The melding of words become one.

With audience participation, Ryer flirted with the audience as though they were all close personal intimate friends. Always riveting, sometimes deliberately hilariously raunchy, Ryer makes certain the agonizing moments in Edith’s life are celebrated equally with her success. The performance is as riveting as Edith’s life itself accompanied with an impeccable French accent.

By some magical time machine I was whisked back to 1946 to Club Versailles in New York City for her first American concert, which, according to her account, was a complete disaster. Introduced as a Paris sensation and a rising star, this was her first concert in English. Yes, she was nervous. She had good reason. Not knowing a word of English, she had to rely on a translator who failed to grasp the meaning of her music, consequently the meaning of her words.

Side by side McCarl, Emily Fellner directed the music. Fellner also appears on stage with Ron Tomocik.

During Act I, Fellner and Tomocik accompany Edith on accordions wearing French berets. There are moments both nearly steal the spotlight in spite of Edith’s awesome performance. Stoic expressions and slight smiles when Edith relates to them as different characters, especially when she recounts memories of the German invasion, dig deep with poignancy. Although their reactions are slight, their reactions are sharp. In Act II their characters change with Fellner on the piano and Tomocik on the accordion. The contrast between the two and Edith’s honest, bold, recollection is nothing less than stunning.

At the beginning of Act II, she is introduced as an International star at Club Versailles in 1949. With an inner confidence nearly as bright as her spotlight, Edith explains she sings with her heart “but life is so wonderful. Then someone leaves. Loneliness visits,” Singing Hymne De L’Amour (If You Love me, Really Love Me) she dedicates it to Marcel, the one man who totally captured her heart and who was killed in an airplane crash on his way to catch her opening night performance. There was talk of canceling the performance, but Edith insisted on singing for him. Ryer made it so compelling, I had to shake my head to remember where I was. That’s the power of the stage by a performer who has become as engulfed as humanly possible by a character.

Tina Anderson designed the simplified set with an ambiance making the set look bigger, fuller, and more real with its shadowed shades and tones. I believed when Edith sang at the Club Versailles, I was actually there. Under the gaslight, I could sense the chill of the Paris night air. When the house lights came up, I listened carefully for someone who was fully aware of Edith Pilaf and her music to say, “Good show, but -----.” No one even whispered the words. No one came close to intimating Ryer came close, but couldn’t capture the famed legendary singer. The brilliant insightful writing and stunning performance made us all believe it was indeed Edith there on stage recounting memorable moments in an all too short life: what mattered, what didn’t, and why. When all was said and done, I felt like I knew this phenomenal singer who only a few weeks before I had never heard her name. To accomplish that takes more than talent. It takes a soul willing to trust in the possibilities of the unknown. It has been said before. It needs to be said again: Alex Ryer is a treasure to bring Edith Piaf to life in such graphic detail.

Even though the songs began in French, the English translation almost wasn’t necessary. I could tell by her demeanor, her expressions, her gestures, exactly what she was singing. Her detailed communication overrode word meaning with Le Petit Homme (One Little Man); Sous Le Ciel De Paris (Under Paris Skies); La Vie Enrose; Milord; Misericorde (Heaven Have Mercy); and The Three Bells, to name a few.

This production deserves a long run where those who know Pilaf’s music and those who have never heard of her can experience a vital moment in history. For those stuck in a hard-time-syndrome, need to be grabbed by the inspiration of the Little Sparrow who took her demented life and proved it could work for her.