‘Annie’ bumpy, endearing

“Annie” is a musical people love to hate. Sugar and spice and everything nice can be an annoying nuisance in our postmodern world. Even if little orphan Annie is a strong-minded and decisive feminist in the making, she sings that cloying song “Tomorrow,” which just doesn’t quit when it comes to optimism.

It follows that “Annie” is a musical people also hate to love. And that’s where Ken Stack’s recent production of the show, now celebrating its 20th anniversary, came blazing onto the local scene. You wanna hate it — but can’t, gosh darn it.

“Annie” closed Sunday after a two-week run at the Grand in Ellsworth. On Friday, its community actors were in the unfortunate and unfair position of not having the usual music director, and of having to reprise the show after more than a 10-day hiatus. As a result, the small live orchestra sagged, lagged and missed cues. And so did the cast.

Was this night of the show a shambles?

Objectively speaking, yes.

But honestly, I can’t remember ever enjoying myself more at a production or feeling more admiration for the spirit, skill and stick-to-itiveness of performers and musicians in a community event. Here’s a measure of just how endearing this night was: I did something that is both uncharacteristic and uncouth for a critic — I let out a whoop at the end of one of the most miraculous performances I have ever seen in a community production.

That whoop was inspired by Lee Patterson and his unimpeachable depiction of President Franklin Delano Roosevelt. In addition to having a sophisticated physical stage presence, Patterson has a quirky voice — so distinct you would never mistake it for anyone else’s, and continually surprising in its depth, range, rightness and purity. When he sang a single strain of the chorus for “Tomorrow,” it was a performance that required, — nay, demanded — a whoop of utter delight.

Patterson’s success was one of a handful of truly eloquent moments in Friday’s performance. A sisterhood of 11 orphans brought the house down with a reprisal of “Fully Dressed” (as in, you’re never “fully dressed” without a smile). Yes, they were cute, but they were also clever, coquettish and certain of themselves in sassy, spunky ways.

Additionally, the audience was in stitches over the bawdy dance routines by Annie Schwartz as the drunken Miss Hannigan, Ben Layman as her scheming brother, Rooster, and Joyce Newkirk as his floozy wife, Lily.

Scenes between David Closson, as Oliver Warbucks, and the plucky Emma Stanley, as Annie, were dear in their portrayals of a man who saves a girl — and of a girl who saves a man. Tammy Wardwell, as Warbucks’ secretary, was no less responsible for some of the magic in this show.

Of course, Sandy, played by a smiling yellow Labrador rather than the usual scruffy mutt, had the audience members rolling with his affectionate regard for them.

Interspersed with missed notes, long set changes, an inadequate orchestra, late entrances and one very silly red wig were the precious events that only a community cast can negotiate with such finesse. Probably on other nights this show was more accomplished, in the standardized sense. But even in its bumpiness, Friday’s show managed to tap into the sweetness that, 20 years ago, made “Annie” a national event as well as a Tony Award winner.