Violet
In Violet, a musical about changing how a person sees herself, Sutton Foster allows the audience a completely new way to see her. Foster, a two-time Tony Award winner for Thoroughly Modern Millie and Anything Goes, is known for her sunny and spirited performances, usually accompanied by lengthy and (literally) sparkling tap numbers. Her broad smile and openly goofy persona fill the stage with warmth and charm. But in Violet, Foster takes on an entirely new kind of role — and she owns it, completely.
Inspired by Dorris Betts' story "The Ugliest Pilgrim," Violet follows a young woman on a bus trip through the South, determined to pay a visit to a TV preacher she thinks can cure her of a disfiguring facial scar. The scar is the result of a tragic childhood accident in which an axe blade flew off the handle and cut her, and it has caused Violet to grow into a brittle and defensive woman who believe she is defined by her supposed ugliness. Jeanine Tesori's music guides Violet on her journey, while Brian Crawley's lyrics and book narrate the story.
While traveling on the bus, Violet meets two soldiers, the womanizing Monty (a charming Colin Donnell) and the more somber-minded, African American Flick (a rousing Josh Henry), both of whom are drawn to the unique young woman. She develops relationships — very different ones — with both of them, during her journey to the preacher.
In an understated performance, Foster brilliantly portrays the defenses that her character has been forced to develop to protect herself from a judgmental and superficial world, while the flashbacks in the script inform the audience the way in which the accident took place and how she survived growing up as a teenager with a disfigured face. Foster, an inherently sympathetic performer, appears onstage without any makeup, dressed in a long, loose gown — and yet she shines more brilliantly in this role than in any other that I have seen her perform, giving every moment of her character's development and growth, as well as pain and joy, heartfelt sincerity. Her rendition of "Days Gone By," sung to a sleeping Monty after they have made love, wonderfully depicts the vulnerability she refuses to show anyone.
Henry is solidly outstanding as Flick, and his solo "Let It Sing" stops the show. Donnell gives a sympathetic edge to Monty, and it is the shortcomings of the script that fail to explain just how deeply meeting Violet has affected the young man. As the young Violet, Emerson Steele makes a brilliant Broadway debut, portraying the spirit of Violet before the accident as well as the hurt, anger and confusion she experiences after the audience.
Directed by Leigh Silverman, Violet is simply staged, in a no-frills production. This treatment suits the message of the show, which is heartwarming, without being preachy. Beauty standards are increasingly a topic of conversation, and eating disorders are more rampant than ever before; Violet's coming to terms with her physical appearance is something far too many people can relate to. As she sings an upbeat song about what she wants to look like, hand-picking different body parts from different movie stars, she smiles, acting free and silly and happy, twirling around the stage in girlish delight. While seeing Foster portray this happiness is delightful, the fact that Violet only seems happy when imagining herself as looking like a movie star is deeply saddening. One hopes watching Foster's outstanding performance as Violet will inspire audience members to reflect on their own relationships with their bodies as well as their judgment of others.