In "1776," Peter Stone, who wrote the story and the book for the musical, uses the famous line attributed to Benjamin Franklin, "We must indeed hang together, or most assuredly we shall all hang separately." In "Titanic," which just arrived for an eight-week run at the Ahmanson Theatre, Stone's message is similar, though unspoken: We most assuredly are all in the same boat.
It is a point brought most vividly home toward the end of "Titanic," which won five Tony Awards (including best musical), when 12 doomed men -- from the super rich to lowly emigrants -- stare out through portholes on the listing ship watching the last of the lifeboats depart, contemplating why they deserve such a fate. Each is separate, framed like a portrait in a locket.
The Titanic's sinking after hitting an iceberg on April 14, 1912, may have taken the greatest toll on the third-class passengers, but the tragedy did not spare those in the first and second classes. And perhaps that is what is at the bottom of the continual interest in the tale of the ill-fated ocean liner. It was a cold ocean that overwhelmed the divisions in classes.
And the differences of the classes is very much at the heart of "Titanic's" splendid opening sequence, which builds grandly both musically and dramatically when the passengers and crew are introduced as they ready for boarding. Despite their differences, they have one thing in common -- all are in awe of the technological wonder before them, a "floating city" as its architect, Thomas Andrews (Kevin Gray), describes it in the prologue.
For those in third class, the ship is a promise of a better life in America, "ship of dreams." For those in second class -- merchants, professionals and the socially ambitious -- it was the "a chance of a lifetime," an opportunity to be near the rich. For those in first class -- including John Jacob Astor (Rob Donohue), Benjamin Guggenheim (Ken Krugman) and Isidor Strauss (S. Marc Jordan), the owner of Macy's department store -- it was their God-given right to be on the greatest luxury liner in the world. All three classes board separately, each assigned or consigned to its appropriate station.
The divisions are also brought home within the crew of the ship. After the order is given to increase speed (thus hastening the ship's doom), from seven decks down in the boiler room, the stoker Barrett (Brian d'Arcy James from the original Broadway cast) passionately sings "the orders they propose above we execute down here." Then he reflects how little his life has changed from what it was in the coal mines, for despite being on a "wonder ship," he is still "below."
It is like a number of other moments in "Titanic," poignant but curiously not very moving. There is much about the musical that is impressive, though. The staging is inventive yet functional within the story, even dazzling at times. The singing is exceptional, with too many fine voices to mention here. And besides Gray and James, there is one fine performance after another, including those of William Parry as the captain; David Pittu as the first officer Murdoch; Adam Heller as Ismay, the owner; Melissa Bell as third-class passenger Kate McGowen, who longs to be a lady's maid in America; Dale Sandish as the radioman; and Liz McConahay as Alice, the second-class passenger who longs to rub elbows with the rich.
It bears mentioning that so well did Heller play his part as Ismay -- who bore much responsibility for the sinking yet who escaped on a lifeboat -- that the audience didn't know whether to cheer or boo during the curtain call. But the audience is already familiar with his role from history. Most of the other characters, however, are merely representative, rarely filling in the whole picture.
Yet, despite its many attributes and wonderful touches, "Titanic" never quite coalesces -- the divisions are too great, and the individual stories too often seem to hang there rather than being woven into the fabric of the musical. We only get snapshots of the passengers and the crew, making it difficult for the audience to become emotionally involved with the characters.
During the prologue, Andrews stands in front of a giant blueprint of the ship. It is imposing, but it also is symbolic of the production. Stone and Maury Yeston, who wrote the music, have set themselves up with a daunting, nearly impossible task. The tale is well-known, especially after the hoopla from the movie, although the musical premiered on Broadway first. The miscalculations, arrogance, hubris and stupidity that contributed to the tragedy are well-documented, but it would have been remiss not to include it all in the story.
Still, it is hard to dismiss "Titanic." It is fairly entertaining if not always engaging. As a "popera" (there is very little dialogue), the music is often more functional than memorable, with few hummable tunes. But, again, there are some noteworthy numbers besides those in the stirring opening segment, particularly the haunting "No Moon" and lyrical "Autumn" just before the collision with the iceberg.
Returning to that tableau of the 12 men (one, the bellboy, played by a woman, Rebecca Lowman), the strengths and weaknesses of the musical can be seen. It is a powerful image yet makes the characters interchangeable. Perhaps that is the point, but in theater, equality has a tendency to flatten things out.
And the last thing we'd expect is smooth sailing from the Titanic.