Patti. Patti! PATTI! The name of Patti Lupone’s May 18 show at The Music Hall in Portsmouth is self-explanatory: “Coulda, Woulda, Shoulda” reflects back on roles that she coulda done, or woulda done, or even shoulda done, but that got by her for one reason or another. And from her performance of these numbers, it’s certainly the shows’ loss.  
One of the first numbers she proffered was “Easy To Be Cruel,” from the hippie-dippie musical “Hair.” So blown away was she by this musical, at age 18-ish, that she sent the theater manager her resume and 8-by-10-inch black and white glossy (which she describes as a picture taken by an avante guard photographer who had her pose with a butcher knife). Not surprisingly, she never heard back. But she practiced an audition number, “An English Teacher from Bye-bye Birdie,” and kept hoping.

What she did do, at her brother’s behest, is audition for the Juilliard School. After her carefully prepared classic monologue, legendary director John Houseman commented, “I don’t think that’s what Shakespeare quite intended.” Luckily, they happened to ask if she could sing, so she let loose with “If a Girl Isn’t Pretty” from “Funny Girl”—at The Music Hall, she ended the song with a flourish. “And then I got in!” she exclaimed.

Houseman, in 1972, took his beloved class and formed The Acting Company (notable alumni include Kevin Kline, David Ogden Stiers, Frances Conroy, and Jeffrey Wright), which became the foremost touring company in the country. “School for Scandal,” “The Robber Bridegroom,” “All’s Well that Ends Well,” “Women Attacking Women,” “The Beggar’s Opera,” “Arms and the Man” and “Edward II,” among other plays, dominated Lupone’s next eight years.

When she came back from this extensive touring schedule, her dream came true: she was cast in “The Baker’s Wife.” This show closed before it got to Broadway, she laments, joking that it should have made it all the way to Broadway, then closed on opening night, like everyone expected.

Lupone regrets that, not being Puerto Rican or a dancer, she wasn’t even considered for “West Side Story”; she went on to prove that she was more than capable by hilariously singing both sides of the duet between Anita and Maria, “A Boy Like That.”

LuPone’s soothing aura and fiery energy reached to every last person in the audience, making each person feel as though she was welcoming them personally.  “Most singers get to know their voices,” says Jenn Batchelder, a vocal coach who attended the performance. “They spend their lives figuring methods of homogenizing their sound and smoothing over their vocal breaks. But (Patti) knows exactly where her breaks are, and she incorporates them to create her signature sound.”

Another show that slipped through Lupone’s fingers was “Peter Pan” (with her energy, she could have flown without a harness). While singing “Never, Never Land,” she noted that there was another role she was playing which made her ineligible to play the Mighty Pan. That role was the role for which she is most well-known, “Evita.” With each ensuing song, she brought heart, soul and a story, but when she sang “Don’t Cry for Me Argentina,” Lupone transformed into The First Lady of Buenos Aires; she is a woman devoted to her people and giving them the better life she’s been able to forge for herself.

The second half of the evening, Lupone was less in storytelling mood and regaled us with songs that she couldn’t have sung professionally because she’s a woman. Songs from “Oklahoma” and “Carousel” were offered with enthusiastic abandon, and with “We Got Trouble” from “The Music Man” she brought along the whole audience on the chorus. A ringing cell phone caught her ear, however, and after that she had a bit of an “oh, boy—live theater!” attitude. But still, we loved her.

Lupone gave us an Irish Blessing—a cappella—for her encore, unwrapping a bouquet she’d been presented with and tossing it back, flower by flower.

This summer she’ll be playing in “Gypsy” at the New York City Center. She’s also releasing a CD called “The Lady With the Torch.” If you have the chance to see this woman sing, take it. If you have the chance to see this woman act, take it. If you have the chance to clean this woman’s shoes, take it. She a magical performer, and it would be an honor.