By Lauren Smart
By Jane R. LeBlanc
By Lauren Smart
By Elaine Liner
By Jim Schutze
By Rachel Watts
The fascinating, achingly sweet performances by Stirman and Freeman are reason enough to see Side Show, an offbeat, hard-to-categorize vehicle making its Texas premiere at Theatre Three. Like Stephen Sondheim's Into the Woods, this show follows dark, melancholy themes and tells its sad story with haunting, dissonant tunes in a sung-through libretto with little spoken dialogue. Composer Henry Krieger and lyricist Bill Russell make a mini-opera out of their somewhat fictionalized take on the real-life saga of the Hilton twins and their rise from carnival freak show stages in the 1920s and '30s to roles in several low-budget Hollywood films.
The Hiltons' is not a feel-good story. Sold into sideshow servitude as children by the midwife who bought them from their unwed birth mother, Daisy and Violet became Depression-era celebrities on the low end of the vaudeville circuit. Pretty and talented, they sang, played several musical instruments and learned dance steps from fellow vaudevillian Bob Hope, working the choreography around their condition as pygopagic twins whose lower spines were fused at the hip, forcing them to live side by side.
Side Show opens with the Hiltons headlining as featured ingenues of a sleazy traveling circus. "Come and look at the freaks! Come and gaze at the geeks!" sing the stars of the midway attraction where "Siamese twins" Violet and Daisy first get noticed. Among the slightly sinister acts in the company are the slithery Reptile Man (Coy Covington), snout-sporting Pig Boy (Trey Albright), Cat Girl (Christina Neubrand) and the four-breasted fortuneteller (Sara Shelby-Martin). The "King of the Cannibals" looks terrifying to the carnival crowd but actually is a gentle giant named Jake (Keron Jackson), who serves as the twins' bodyguard and harbors a secret crush on one of them. The Boss (Sonny Franks) is a classic villain who treats his misshapen employees miserably, dehumanizing them to the point where they go on strike and take over the show in protest.
Enter two rays of hope for the pretty red-haired Hilton twins. Buddy Foster (Ric Leal) is a cute singer-dancer willing to coach the girls in a classier new act. Terry Connor (Eric Domuret) is a smooth-talking talent scout for the Orpheum circuit, the same company that would give Fanny Brice and Gypsy Rose Lee their boosts to the big-time.
The men take an interest in the twins' career. The twins take a romantic interest in the guys. But stuck on a perpetual double date, for the first time in their lives Violet and Daisy begin to long for separate identities. "Leave me alone," they sing. "I need a life of my own." To gain some measure of privacy, they learn to "shut the door" on each other, each retreating into some interior sanctuary where the other doesn't exist.
Russell and Krieger's musical numbers emphasize both the twins' devotion to one another and their unfulfilled desire for normalcy and individuality. "We Share Everything" is a bouncy bit of vaudeville kitsch that proclaims to the public how happy the Hilton sisters are to live hand-in-hand and hip-to-hip. "We're never pushy-shovey/We're always lovey-dovey," they twitter. But later on, in "Who Will Love Me as I Am," Daisy and Violet express their inner pain at wanting husbands and children and picket-fenced privacy.
Each song in Side Show deftly moves the plot along. The turning point in the story comes in a big Act 2 number called "Tunnel of Love," which finds the girls starring at Fair Park in the Texas Centennial Exposition of 1936. Daisy is wildly in love with the slick Terry, who's about to make a lucrative deal that would give the girls starring roles in the film Freaks. Violet is engaged to Buddy, with their wedding set to draw thousands of spectators to a gaudy Cotton Bowl ceremony.
But a romantic encounter on a midway ride upsets the plans. In the eerie darkness of the Tunnel of Love, Daisy seduces Terry, who's been understandably reluctant about getting involved with his half of the act. And Violet discovers that Buddy's interest in her is as cold as the skin of the Reptile Man.
As performed on the little square stage of Theatre Three, "Tunnel of Love" is magical and disturbing. Stirman and Freeman manage to display the twins' budding sensuality with just the right amount of intensity. And as the boyfriends, Leal and Domuret turn out to be the real freaks in this scenario. It's their behavior that makes us feel like voyeurs as we watch them squirm through their liaisons with the girls. "Sharing life with two is more than I can do," Buddy realizes. The desperation of Violet and Daisy, who exit into the cold light of day knowing that their hopes are shattered, is palpable and heartbreaking.