Her Shining Hour

"Mimi Hines Is A Happening!"

So proclaimed the title of her 1967 Decca album; and, last night at 54 Below, the little lady with the big voice proved it so once more, knocking a sophisticated, jaded audience out of their collective seats.

How sophisticated and jaded, you may query? How's this for starters: Lucie Arnaz. Joyce Breach. Jim Caruso. Fran Drescher. Donna Mckechnie. Jerry Mitchell. Liliane Montevecchi. Faith Prince. LeRoy Reams. Billy Stritch. Julie Wilson.

All of them rapt, attentive, spellbound one moment; then screaming, banging the tables, clamoring for more, the next. Strutting on stage to the strains of "Nothing Can Stop Me Now!", Ms. Hines -- making a rare appearance, in celebration of her 80th birthday -- demonstrated just that for the next hour plus. Looking fabulous with mile-long false eyelashes and a swath of blue eyeshadow, Mimi the magnificent belted out "Chicago," crooned "Till There Was You," and had us all in the palm of her hand.

The one-time Funny Girl (she took over for Streisand on Broadway when Barbra took the show to London) paid homage to that career highlight by singing "I'm the Greatest Star," making it clear in the process that she's no Streisand clone. She's 100% Mimi Hines, and she makes the material her own. Hines also sang the lovely ballad, "Who Are You Now," which was cut from the film version of the musical, and a treat to hear.

Mimi Hines has always been a brassy, belting broad; she still possesses a rapid-fire show biz wit and delivery when recounting some of her backstage tales, but time and experience have mellowed her singing voice. She still has reserves of power, to be sure, but remarkably, who she reminded us most of throughout the evening, was the inimitable saloon singer, Sylvia Syms. Big ballads that, in other hands (and, perhaps, Hines', too, once upon a time) would be overwrought and overdramatic -- "Who Can I Turn To?" and "Yesterday I Heard the Rain" -- were heartbreaking, devastating in their intimacy. Any lowered keys and skillfully sidestepped high notes were more than compensated for by powerful connection with the lyrics.

To that end, in a completely unexpected, stunning feat of acting, this quintessential "mensch" (as Jule Styne called her in the liner notes to that 1967 album) transformed herself completely into Madame Armfeldt for a stunning rendition of "Liaisons" from A Little Night Music. It was a revelation, not only for the total surprise of hearing and seeing Hines become that character, but for the sheer brilliance of her interpretation.

For us, though, the highlight of the evening was the seldom-revived "I'll Only Miss Him When I Think of Him" from Skyscraper; Hines recorded it for her debut album in 1966. Full disclosure: Hines' recorded rendition has never curried favor with us, in spite of the song being one of our all-time favorites. But last night, Mimi Hines sang it as its never been sung before, with such longing and tenderness, that we immediately realized that she wasn't singing about an unfortunate love affair; she was experiencing the pain and ache that only true loss can bring. And, sure enough, as the last notes drifted to the heavens, Hines whispered, "I miss ya, Phil." (The late Phil Ford was her long-time spouse and musical partner.) It was an almost painfully personal moment, and there wasn't a dry eye in the house. Cannily, Hines segued almost immediately into an upbeat arrangement of "It Only Takes a Moment" from Hello, Dolly!, with Ford still clearly on her mind.

Although the rapturous audience -- who visibly moved Hines with their unabashed appreciation and adoration -- would have gladly let her stay all night and sing 'em all, every good thing must come to an end. Fittingly, Hines closed her set with a beautiful, touching version of Johnny Mercer's "My Shining Hour." And when she wrapped up with his lyric: "This will be my shining hour/Till I'm with you again," truer words could never be spoken. Or sung.

Mimi Hines is a happening.

Darling Liliane

She stalks the stage like a tigress, long, lean, lithe. Whippet thin and yet all woman -- not a hint of a waif-like urchin, or the trace of the athletic tomboy. Markedly French, deliciously feminine, intoxicatingly glamorous: we could only be describing Liliane Montevecchi, the feather boa-ed diva of MGM pictures; the Folies Bergère; the original Broadway production of Nine, which won her a Tony; and, now, a new one woman act entitled Hello, Darlings, which opened last night at 54 Below.

Taking the stage in all black, the left leg of her flowing pants slit and ruffled up the thigh to expose a leg to make Dietrich and Charisse sigh in envy, La Montevecchi held us all enthralled with her throaty, expressive voice and exquisite presence. The song program held few true surprises ("La Vie En Rose"? Check. "Les Feuilles Morte [Autumn Leaves]"? Check. "Ne Me Quitte Pas"? Check.), but what counted was the presentation. It was a master class in owning a stage, and commanding an audience. It was absolutely compelling. This sophisticated, New York audience banged tables, shouted anguished declarations of love, screamed and "Brava!"-ed. 

Liliane Montevecchi in the 1950's: the legs look even better today.

We are also happy to report that we can now add "made our nightclub debut" to our resume -- we were summoned with one of La Montevecchi's elegant, flawlessly lacquered fingers to the stage. Truth be told, we didn't have to do much -- in fact, "You just sort of stand there... Don't move!" as "our" number instructed. Yes, darlings, last night, we were Liliane Montevecchi's human prop for "A New Fangled Tango." When we first stepped into the spotlight, we looked out at the audience. "Don't look at them!" La Montevecchi said sharply, in a tone worthy of Gloria Swanson. "Only look at me!" Of course, we did as we were told. And it wasn't difficult to do, with those enormous, coal-black eyes of hers rooting us firmly in place.

When the song ended, we stood still for a moment as the crowd applauded. In what we imagined displayed crack comic timing, we stage whispered out of the corner of our mouth, "May I move now?" Exiting the nightclub some time later, we stopped by the table of Marilyn Maye, who just wrapped up her own triumphant, two-weeks-long-and-then-some-by-popular-demand run at 54 Below (read about it here). "Honey, a star is born!" she joked. It was only after we stepped outside and began our walk home that we suddenly went weak in the knees, and everything seemed a little blurry. My God, we realized. We had just been on stage with Liliane Montevecchi, in front of Marilyn Maye. And Tommy Tune. And Arlene Dahl. And heaven knows who else. (Ms. Montevecchi isn't big on celebrity introductions from the stage.) Oh, all we had to do was stand still and be a stooge, but what a great audience to be a stooge for! 

Arlene Dahl

Tommy Tune

Marvelous Marilyn Maye

It was a thrilling evening of stories, songs, and leg lifting (yes, she can still raise one above her head without hesitation) and Liliane Montevecchi is only performing one more show at 54 Below, tonight. See you on the stage!

Buy tickets here.