Reviews
Variety, Nov. 5, 2008, By STEVEN SUSKIN
Charm, song and forthright honesty are hallmarks of Florence Henderson's lite-biographical show "All the Lives of Me." The enjoyable 80- minute "musical journey" from one of America's favorite TV moms moves into Feinstein's at the Regency with ease.
Henderson takes her title and theme from the Peter Allen song, recently reprised by Hugh Jackman in "The Boy From Oz." Daughter of a dirt-poor sharecropper, she outlines her path from Depression-era Kentucky to Hollywood. Singing was a major component from her earliest days; her mother used to take the 3-year old to the local general store and instruct her to stand on the counter and sing for groceries. (Henderson's voice and personality always seemed to do the trick.)
The parents of a wealthy schoolmate staked her to tuition at American Academy of Dramatic Arts in New York, and at 18 she had a small role on Broadway. Within months she was discovered by Richard Rodgers, who cast her in revivals of most of his classic musicals over the next 16 years.
In "Eight Shows a Week," a piece of special material by Glen Roven (Henderson's musical director) and Bruce Vilanch, Henderson comments on the paradox of her career: after many years starring on Broadway, "one season on television and 100 million people know your name."
After five seasons plus 30 years of worldwide syndication of "The Brady Bunch," she is an iconic presence; her earlier life as a Broadway singing star counts for little. When she invites questions from audience members, even at the venerable Park Avenue nitery, they want to know about Jan, Marcia and housekeeper Alice rather than her roles in Josh Logan's "Fanny" and Noel Coward's "The Girl Who Came to Supper."
Henderson strings her story with songs, some of which only peripherally illustrate their point. She still sings comfortably, although at 74 she has developed some pitch problems. (Roven backs her with a reed player, a cellist and a vocalist who augments Henderson on just about every sustained note -- which helps considerably.) Many of the songs are mere fragments, although some -- like the "Brady Bunch" title tune, in a sing-along -- get full play.
She is at her best with "A Wonderful Guy," from "South Pacific." She tartly comments on the current "first major New York revival" of the show, noting that she headlined the major New York revival Rodgers himself produced at Lincoln Center in 1969. (She holds up the original cast album, as proof.)
Highlight of the act, though, is the star's story-telling. Direct and matter-of-fact throughout, she relates old, dirty jokes from Kentucky; notes with bemusement that the infamous womanizer Rodgers never laid a hand on her; and calls Noel Coward "a kind, kind, wonderful, vicious gentleman."
Broadway.com
Etcetera: Florence Henderson - All the Lives of Me...a Musical Journey
by John Simon - Feinstein's at Loews Regency
Florence Henderson’s recent appearance at Feinstein’s at Loews Regency was all to the good and all too brief. The actress-singer called her show All the Lives of Me…A Musical Journey, and it was outstanding in more than one way.
There was, first, the heartening fact that age could not stale talent and appeal such as hers. Henderson’s accomplished renderings were as youthfully vibrant yet subtly shaded as they were in the various musicals she starred in on Broadway and elsewhere. She sang only one of the hit songs from her stage roles, the idea being rather to convey in song her roles in life. This took her from the poverty-stricken Midwestern farm where it began to becoming an idol of stage and TV.
Her rise began at 19, when Rodgers and Hammerstein saw her in a bit part in Wish You Were Here and asked her to take on the role of Laurey in the last touring company of Oklahoma! “Sure,” she said, “but what is it?” It progressed to her being the first female guest host on The Tonight Show and induction in the Smithsonian Institute as part of the first permanent Entertainment History Exhibit. A steady, sedulous rise; if just a little short of meteoric, no less than stellar.
The autobiographical show included such faded favorites of her parents’ as “You Are My Sunshine” and “My Old Kentucky Home,” delivered with unprecedented, revivifying delicacy. What show tunes she performed, such as “Oh, What a Beautiful Morning” and Kander and Ebb’s “Me and My Baby,” were there to illustrate her feelings at becoming famous or a mother, or, as in the case of The Brady Bunch, participating in unparalleled backstage camaraderie.
Henderson has possibly the best between-songs patter I have heard from any artist. This ranged from one of her dad’s typical bawdy jokes to her mom’s exaggerated warnings against playing with herself (she would go blind and deaf) to how today’s TV-proclaimed side effects of sex-enhancing drugs include impaired sight or hearing. And if you have a dread, more-than-four-hour erection, would you, on your way to the doctor, please stop off at her place?
But it goes beyond the scripted—Henderson is a wiz at repartee. Not only did she mingle physically with her audience, she also conducted a freewheeling Q&A session, providing answers both pert and pertinent.
She talked frankly about her two marriages and more recent widowed state, about her four childbirths that always came at a time most in conflict with her work, but resulted in wonderful offspring. You could almost see waves of joyous energy radiating from her.
Two of her wittiest songs—“Have I Been Lifted?” and “Eight Shows a Week”—were by her musical director, Glen Roven, who, besides steadfast piano accompaniments, also gave her a spirited introduction. No less fine was the work of Julie Ferrara on reeds, Laura Bontrager on cello, and Cynthia Leigh Heim in vocal support.
If you had the misfortune of missing Florence Henderson this time round, be confident that such an indestructible and indispensable artist will show up again somewhere on your horizon. When she does, avoid committing the same mistake twice.