There’s something thrilling about grifts and cons. From Anna Delvey and Fyre Festival and, closer to home, ‘Who the Hell is Hamish’ McLaren, stories about charismatic individuals swindling people out of their money can be near irresistible for audiences: a vicarious imagining of what we could do if we decided the rules of polite society didn’t apply to us.
That was the rush propelling Steven Spielberg’s 2002 film Catch Me if You Can, where a smooth-as-all-get-out grafter, played by Leonardo DiCaprio, danced around Tom Hanks as the long-suffering investigator on his trail. Adding to the fun: the film was based on a true story.
The film was adapted for Broadway in 2011, with music by Hairspray dream team Marc Shaiman and Scott Wittman and a book by Master Class’s Terrence McNally. With four Tony Award nominations under its belt, it’s now at the Hayes Theatre, Sydney’s undisputed home for musicals. It’s a high-flying production that’s occasionally bumpy, but ends up sticking the landing.
Frank Abagnale Jr (Jake Speer) has talked into his way into working as a pilot and a doctor, forged cheques in fraud binges totalling millions of dollars, and charmed girls from New York to New Orleans – all before he turned 19. He learned the mindset of a con from his beloved father (Simon Burke), and fled to this world of his own making when his family life fell apart. It’s like he was born to play this game, although soon there’s a wrinkle: he falls in love. You can’t keep running if you’re going to get married, can you? We know how it ends – the musical begins with Frank’s inevitable arrest – but as they say, it’s all about the journey.
And an essential part of the journey is FBI agent Carl Hanratty (Tim Draxl), a perfectionist nerd-type trying his best to crack the identity of the mind behind these brazen crimes. Frank evades him over and over, sometimes just by a hair, and they strike up a highly specific, odd relationship that’s more frenemy than cop-and-robber. After all, they dance this dance for years.
Catch Me If You Can isn’t an especially great musical – the book leaves a lot to be desired and it doesn’t really take off until halfway through the first act, when the central relationship of Frank and Carl finally gets some decent stage time – but it’s not charmless, and this production is a full-on charm offensive.
Choreographer and first-time director Cameron Mitchell is at the helm here, and his signature witty, period-embracing choreography propels the show past its clunker lines and odd structural shape. It’s a smart sleight of hand – don’t pay attention to the lacklustre lyrics, look at these ensemble members giving the performances a knowing, ironic twist! (And thank god that they do – the female characters in this show are almost entirely two-dimensional props; Mitchell and the cast ensure that they’re in control and self-aware at all times to help mitigate these offences). The numbers are tuneful, performed with pleasing bombast by the band (Anthony Cutrupi is musical director) and there are a couple of standout numbers, soft-shoe showoff songs for Speer and Draxl, that leave a strong impression.
This is a flashy show about all the ways spectacle, confidence and glitz can dazzle anyone, and it feels a little stifled here in the Hayes, with a small cast and small stage (well managed and resembling an airport terminal, designed by Kelsey Lee). You almost miss the excess of commercial musicals (though costume designer Christine Mutton ensures there are plenty of sequins, and Jasmine Rizk’s lights are appealingly playful). But there’s an integrity to this production that could win you over; Draxl plays nebbish with fascinating gusto; Speer sings with leading-man sincerity; Burke brings genuine pathos to the role of Frank’s father; the ensemble perform a startling array of supporting characters with a wink and apparently endless lung capacity.
This is a fun, high-energy production, and sometimes, that’s all you need from a musical. Go for a good time.