By Elyse Trevers
We fondly recall our childhood books. While some may no longer be politically correct, others remain timeless.
Published in 1943, The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry still retains its innocence and charm. It’s a tale that can be interpreted on several levels, but on the surface, it tells of a young prince who rules over his own asteroid. His planet has three volcanoes that come up to his knees and one lovely flower.
After an aviator crash lands, the little prince (the hard-working adult Lionel Zalachas with blond spiky hair ) and the aviator (Aurélien Bednarek) meet in the Sahara where the prince describes his travels.
The innocence of the parable has captured the imaginations of readers for years and ideally should make glorious theater. Yet sadly, The Little Prince at the Broadway Theatre is leaden. It is plodding and even boring at times.
With new-age spa music, the show consists of several scenes as the Little Prince goes from one place to another, meeting a series of creatures on various worlds in the galaxy. The Prince questions each, much as a child would.
There’s a businessman who is only concerned with numbers (Adrien Picaut), a cunning snake (Srilata Ray) and a wise fox (Dylan Barone), who notes that “What is essential is invisible to the eye.”
As I watched, I tried to determine if the children I knew would appreciate the show. Maybe they’d like the aerial feats (though they are more impressive in Harry Potter and the Cursed Child.)
Maybe the acrobats flipping through the air and the contortionists would appeal to them? My own favorite moment was the graceful dancing of the rose (Laurisse Sulty.) The show is reminiscent of Cirque du Soleil, without the ‘awe’ factor.
The androgynous narrator-singer Chris Mouron, who also wrote the adaptation and co-directed with the choreographer Anne Tournié, is slightly jarring. She delivers her lines slowly in accented English as her dialogue is displayed on screens on either side of the stage.
As I watched, I wondered if perhaps I should reread the book. Then I thought – why? There was no childlike joy and spirit in the show. Nothing to lift our spirits and imaginations aloft.
The final aerial flight over the audience came too late. I entered the theater considering bringing the 9 year old, but after spending what seemed like an overly-long two hours, I decided she’d rather stay home and watch television instead.
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