Going to see a “Winnie the Pooh” show at 7 in the evening is a bit like going for an 8 a.m. coffee at the Berlin nightclub. The core audience is asleep.
Even if, in some cases, outward appearances suggest otherwise.
As Pooh once said, “I’m not lost for I know where I am. But however, where I am may be lost.”
He also said, on a more direct kind of day, “I’m so rumbly in my tumbly,” which was not only spoken from the stage but also a thing in some sections of the rented Mercury Theater on Southport Avenue on Wednesday night.
This was not an opening night crowd troubled by niceties or politeness. One budding critic near me affected a fine impersonation of the face of Eeyore for the entire 55 minutes. But who is to say she was not enjoying herself? On the street outside, I saw one future six-year-old-ish renegade staring at a poster for the Lenny Bruce show; he shot me a look as if to say, “I’d rather be at that,” and I nodded sympathetically, but his hand was grabbed and off we both went to be reminded that Tiggers really are a cut above. It’s the rubber.
Let me get to the most important consumer question: Does Pooh look like Pooh from the Disney franchise or are we talking about some arty affair that appeals to parents with graduate degrees but confuses children who really just want to see Pooh as they know Pooh to be?
Happy to report Pooh is Pooh, Piglet is Piglet, Kanga Kanga, Roo Roo and so on so forth throughout the Hundred Acre Wood. We’re not talking Julie Taymor of the stage adaption of Disney’s “The Lion King,” but familiar and officially licensed, direct-from-New York Disney heroes, as calming as a drink of warmish milk (a certain cynical donkey excepted). It’s like a meet-and-greet at Disneyland, although the stars and their handlers remain a few feet away. But they’re large as life, which is a ridiculous thing to write, but you know what I mean.
And, yes, the familiar songs by the legendary Sherman Brothers are there, too, sung to tape by the charming puppeteers. That would be the star’s valedictory ditty, replete with the immortal lyric “chubby little cubby all stuffed with fluff,” the sensational “Whoope-De-Dooper Bounce” and, bien sur, “The Wonderful Thing About Tiggers.”
The show has arrived for the spring from New York. The story involves Pooh seeking out honey, as always, and getting stuck in a tree. There are floating pooh sticks and, to its great credit, Jonathan Rockefeller’s production makes the small Mercury stage look much bigger than any show I’ve ever seen there. It’s not so much that this show is any different from many theme park attractions and the licensed Disney arena affairs, but the intimacy will make all the difference to your kid, I think. Pooh and Christopher Robin (no puppet here) will be right there.
By the way, the price scaling is ridiculous. Don’t get taken for $100 a pop. The cheaper seats are perfectly fine. And be warned about the post-show merch walk, which I recall to have been sheer agony when my kids were little.
I do lament how at no point does Roo jump into Kanga’s pouch, which feels like a missed opportunity. But “Winnie the Pooh” is, really, a metaphor for the importance of friendship between diverse and different creatures, many of whom learn to cooperate to make that Hundred Acre Wood a little bit of an easier place in which to live; they don’t lob missiles at each other. I sat there alone, verklempt.
Chris Jones is a Tribune critic.
Review: “Winnie the Pooh”
When: Through June 12
Where: Mercury Theater, 3749 N. Southport Ave.
Running time: 1 hour
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Tickets: $39-$100 at winniethepoohshow.com