Amid its lampooning, “The Singing Weatherman” has a heart full of sloppy sentimentality. Charlie, the main character, has been the station’s “Pavarotti (or Elton John) of weathermen” for 23 years, singing his forecasts with the help of such purposely dreadful ditties as “Sunshine! Sunshine!” But he’s less devoted to his job than to booze, women and gambling. In the name of “younger demographics” the station decides to get rid of him, coming up with the ploy of taking him off the weather and forcing him to do a 6 a.m. hymn and Bible-reading show in the hope that he’ll resign. Naturally, the new show is a hit, eventually going national.
Along the way Charlie swears off all his vices, becomes positively pure, refuses to go along with a fake faith-healing stunt, and ultimately runs for state governor. It’s possible, of course, that such a storyline could result in an amusing satire, but McGinn and his cohorts lack the sophistication to do the trick.
Holgate is no great help in the title role, his acting wooden, his singing off-key. Fortunately there are talented turns by Robin Skye, Fay Ann Lee and Gayle Turner, though they have nowhere to go with their talent. The music is mostly derivative, in a variety of genres from gospel to vaudeville. It might sound better in other circumstances. Castellino’s direction and choreography are a long way from his best.
But it’s artistic director Semina De Laurentis who is ultimately responsible for this production. Her devotion to encouraging new plays and musicals is admirable, but she needs to take a far harder look at the quality of her choices if her Seven Angels Theater is to be taken seriously.