"Wedding Singer Blues"  

An engaging theatre excerpt that weave’s one Canadian woman’s personal story through song that centers around dreams, disappointments and artistic aspirations.

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'Blues' has a reverse effect.

The laughs keep coming in `Wedding Singer Blues,' a satire of a songbird's determined pursuit of her dream.

By David C. Nichols
Special to The Times
June 16, 2006

Like cake under a pillow or a hitchhiking Jersey-bound chanteuse, there is something sweetly absurd about "Wedding Singer Blues" at Upstairs at the Coronet. In its Los Angeles premiere, singer-comedian Carla Zilber-smith's one-woman tour through the underbelly of the nuptial entertainment trade is less an outright musical comedy than a wacky reception hosted by a singular talent.

A hit in its San Francisco workshop at Theatre Artaud, "Wedding Singer Blues" wraps its quasi-autobiographical saga of Zilbersmith's career travails in a festive satirical package. Jerry Buszek's swag-laden set design subtly tweaks Vegas wedding lounges and Trenton community halls at once.

As the righteous band — musical director Michael Zilber, guitarist Roberto Angelucci and drummer Craig McIntyre — strikes up a Mangione-flavored groove, "The Martini and Rossi on the Rocks Room" introduces Zilbersmith, whose ability to gravel up her dulcet chops is instantly impressive.

Zeroing in on a woman seated in the front row, Zilbersmith breathlessly rants about bridal priorities, building to a tickling snippet of "Celebration," then the theme from "Ice Castles," one of several running gags. "Please, don't let this feeling end," warbles Zilbersmith, with the gooey tone and exaggerated gestures of countless bandstand songbirds, and the house falls apart.

Thus, "Wedding Singer Blues" starts on a trek both zany and sentimental. After informing her Vancouver family that she is off to pursue her dreams in Manhattan, the keynote sounds from Zilbersmith's grandmother are, "Mark my words: No good can come of this."

Grandma, we shall learn, has valid reasons for disdaining modern singers (except Bernadette Peters) and distrusting airplanes, but young Carla is adamant: "I have to follow my dream. There is no Canadian dream." That the American dream is no picnic to achieve becomes hilariously clear when Zilbersmith gets a singing waitress job at Tempura Fugit, a Japanese restaurant with Latin aphorisms on the walls.

After Zilbersmith burbles out a finely syncopated "I Can't Give You Anything But Love," a customer requests not another song but his sake order. A broadly drawn but meticulously controlled journey through the maze of making a buck singing for drunken revelers ensues.

Under Jeffrey Bihr's proficient direction, "Wedding Singer Blues" isn't exactly innovative, but it is agreeable and funny. Credit the rangy star, a strong-voiced find with a knack for spot-on characterizations that recalls Lily Tomlin, dialects, funny story lines and archetypes flying back and forth faster than a rogue garter.

Some not so politically correct moments may offend racially sensitive viewers, and easily 10 minutes of extraneous material could go. Still, by the time Zilbersmith makes her return to Vancouver to discover Grandma's real legacy at the heartfelt finale, it seems clear that "Wedding Singer Blues" is the next surefire date show.

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