Spin City Sick critic abandons Showboat to spend Christmas with Project: Motion. by CHRIS DAVIS Ralphing on the River For the second time in recent memory I left a show at intermission. Unlike my encounter with Theatre Memphis' unrepentantly awful Moon Over Buffalo, however, I slipped out of The Orpheum's presentation of Showboat reluctantly; a nasty fever and swelling tonsils, not bad acting or sloppy staging (though there was plenty of both) prompting the too-hasty departure. What I did see only confirmed a long-held suspicion that there is much more to Showboat than meets the eye. Of all the "war-horse" musicals in the American canon, Showboat is the oldest and most decrepit. It is also the most deserving of revival and revisionist treatment. When it first hit the boards in 1927, American musical theatre was comparable to vaudeville -- a collection of songs, gags, and comic routines. Jerome Kern and Oscar Hammerstein's strange new creation offered characters that were somewhat three-dimensional and an unprecedented plot that remained light and comic in tone while grappling with fairly heavy-duty subject matter, including the issue of racism. On top of all the theatrical innovations, Showboat offered the most enduring selection of songs to be collected in a single show before or since, from "Old Man River" to "Can't Help Loving' That Man o'Mine." The expression "timeless" gets batted about a lot, but in the case of Showboat, the old saw still cuts true. Lyrics like "Make believe our lips are blending, in a phantom kiss -- or two or three," could be pre-Revolver Beatles, or Hunky Dory Bowie. A far cry from the modern mega-musicals whose operatically pretentious, virtually unhummable (though presumably pop) ditties are doomed to have little life outside of the theatre, Showboat's score is a brick house. So why is it that as I scurried from the auditorium at the half, so many overheard conversations revolved around how dated the piece seemed? When Hal Prince restaged Showboat for Broadway in 1994 he stated, "I was committed to eliminate any inadvertent stereotype in the original material, dialogue that may seem 'Uncle Tom' today. However, I was determined not to rewrite history." Well, Hal, with all due respect, you can't have it both ways. The touring company, whose existence no doubt is predicated on the success of Prince's revival, suffers to a degree from the same kind of political correctness. The revisionist's job is not to alter a script or a show's dynamics to suit a particular political climate, but to examine the dynamics at play in the script, figure out how they work and why -- and show that to the audience. Showboat's cast was blessed with more than its share of wonderful voices, but the performances were all robotic and soulless, and the acting ranged from competent to stiff and stiffer, which made the frenetic but uninspired choreography seem that much more artificial. I really was excited that The Orpheum took a risk on this particular classic, but come to think of it, had I been feeling better I might have left sooner than I did. The Ho-Ho-Ho Bag So Friday night rolls around, my fever is still blazing and I can't swallow without crying like a baby, but I figure, Hey, how much difference is there in sitting quietly at home, and sitting quietly in the theatre? So I head to TheatreWorks to see Holiday Spin, Project: Motion's first attempt at putting on an honest-to-gosh play -- they are dancers by trade don'tcha know. Well, let's just say that it's not the kind of show you can sit quietly and watch. Ticket prices are random, and at the door you are asked to toss a big fuzzy pair of dice to determine the price of your ticket. It cost my date/caretaker seven -- I'm sure she cheated. Nostalgic enough to put you in the Christmas spirit, but hip enough so you won't feel uncool about being in the Christmas spirit, Holiday Spin is the bright white star in the long dark night of holiday revivals. It is one-part singalong, one-part sketch comedy, and one-part improvisational free-for all. Its only potential drawback is that it requires audience participation, and Memphis crowds are notoriously standoffish about such things. Kim Justis' dynamic one-woman version of the Rankin and Bass' claymation classic Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer ("His nose blinks like a blinking beacon") was the evening's high-point -- at least until your phlegmatic critic found himself dragged (against his will) into the middle of the comic fray. Wearing a pair of antlers and a flashing red nose I became the innocent victim of a skit called Holiday Hijinks. It was great fun, and cliché be damned; it's true what they say -- laughter is indeed damn fine tonic. Holiday Spin runs through December 18th. You can e-mail Chris Davis at letters@memphisflyer.com.