REVIEW: Next to Normal

Next to Perfection

A year and a half ago, I saw Next to Normal at Second Stage Theatre in New York—an off-Broadway theatre known for producing new, inventive works. Once it closed its off-Broadway run the show was reworked and opened at DC’s Arena Stage. After further re-working, the show has landed at the Booth Theatre on Broadway.

Having seen the show in each of its incarnations, Next to Normal has solidified its place on my list of all-time favorite musicals. It’s a haunting piece—disturbing at times and captivating throughout. It’s difficult to share much about the story without giving away the show’s secrets; secrets that are revealed at just the right moment. The first and most dramatic revelation is so well directed by Michael Grief that the audience gasps in unison. The precedent is set, and as the performance continues, we experience a series of shocks that suddenly alter the plot.

Next to Normal is about unconditional love, neglect, pain, sorrow, and relationships. It’s about finding oneself, losing oneself, and exploring the unknown. The small cast is brilliant. Three of them were Tony-nominated for their work in this show. Alice Ripley won the Tony for her amazing and convincing portrayal of Diana, the wife and mother who is struggling with mental illness. Her rendition of I Miss the Mountains gives us a glimpse into her world of emptiness. J. Robert Spencer plays her husband, Dan who is strong, angry, and committed to being there for his wife. Their daughter Natalie, played by Jennifer Damiano, is particularly brilliant as she sings Superboy and the Invisible Girl, a song in which she explains the pain of growing up in her brother’s shadow.

Kyle Dean Massey plays Gabriel, loving son and tormentor. His strong vocal ability and charismatic presence work perfectly in this role. The cast is rounded out by Adam Chandler-Berat and Louis Hobson, each exactly right as the stoner boyfriend and the prescription-writing doctor, respectively.

The creators of Next to Normal have pulled together a production so rich and layered that you must see it more than once. The subtleties along the way provide effective foreshadowing. It is extremely gratifying to reflect on what you’ve seen and to experience that amazing a-ha moment when it all sinks in. It is story-telling at its finest.

Next to Normal falls into the category of shows that make me long to be back in the theatre producing community. The music, the overall design—sets, costume, and lighting—all perfect. The staging, complex and simple as needed, is spot on. And the performances across the board are brilliant. It’s the kind of show I could see again and again. In fact, three times is just not enough—I can’t wait to see Next to Normal again.

REVIEW: Hair

Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

There’s a whole lot of buzz about the current Broadway revival of Hair. Music, fun-loving hippies, drugs, sex, rock and roll—it’s loud, bright, and boasts full frontal nudity (both men and women). What’s not to love?

Well, let’s start with the plot – there just isn’t much of one. In fact, the entire show is really a collection of songs thrown together with the thinnest of connective anything. A few of the songs are standouts, Aquarius, Let the Sun Shine, Easy to Be Hard … hmm, that might be it. I’m sure there are other songs in the show, but they are just not very memorable.

But what’s weak in concept can be balanced out by a talented cast, right? At my performance, Gavin Creel (who usually plays Claude and has been heralded for his performance) was out. His understudy, Paris Remillard, was—I want to be as diplomatic as possible here—terrible. How do actors get cast in Broadway leading rolls (or even as understudies for leading roles) without the ability to sing on pitch? Remillard was consistently sharp throughout the show, sometimes painfully so. It was like he and his Tribal colleagues were singing in different keys.

The Tribe (aka chorus) could not have been less engaged in the show. At several points throughout, one member of the company was so into a private conversation with a co-chorister, that she practically forgot she had choreography. When she realized that other cast members were already doing their move, she quickly jumped in. Right after however, she was back to goofing with her colleague and together they constantly scanned the audience. Were they looking for their agents in hopes of getting out of their contracts?

OK, but did the design save the day? Mostly, the set is fine and the lights are bright. But near the end of the show, when Claude came out in his military uniform after being drafted into the military, I don’t know WHAT was going on with his hair. Yes, his long locks were gone, but he should have been in a perfect military cut. Instead, he was sporting his own contemporary cut, and had a big piece of black tape stuck to his forehead. I assume the tape was to hold his mic in place, but it was just bizarre. It was as if he was a last minute replacement for Creel and the production team didn’t have time to rehearse him (or his quick change into his final look). Was the tape intentional or just a wardrobe malfunction? Who knows!

And just to make sure that everything is balanced in this cosmic mess, the audience also misbehaved. About 45 minutes into Act one, a secret service-looking man appeared on the floor just to the right of the stage. On the other side, just to the left of the stage, a similar looking person appeared. Each had an ear-piece and was clearly very official. As the Act ended and the house lights came up, these two people, accompanied by two more who seemed to magically appear, rushed to the front of the audience and said, “Ladies and gentlemen, please stay seated for just a moment.” And then they ascended on a couple in the third row and escorted them (and their video camera) out of the theatre. What were these people thinking? Even with a show espousing peace and love, I still hate people.

The production ends with an onstage dance party and “Be-In.” The audience is invited to go onstage during the curtain calls to dance. Unfortunately, any magic of seeing people dancing and enjoying the freedom of moment is marred by the jackasses who decide they are stars and fight their way down center to prance and mug for the rest of the audience as if to say, “This is my moment. Look at me, damn you.” Another reason I hate people.

I believe that the mind tends to shade everything we experience and help us filter out the bad memories. Maybe that is Hair’s secret. That dance party at the end is meant to leave us with a great feeling of joy and happiness. If we end up dancing and singing in the aisles we will only remember the high and not fixate on how bad the show is. For my money, I’d rather have a plot, some nice music, and a lead that can actually sing.

REVIEW: 9 to 5 — The Musical

The Caffeinated Musical

From the first downbeat, the stage at the Marriot Marquis explodes into motion. There are things popping up and down out of the floor, sets tracking on and off, huge scenic elements flying in and out, and a back wall that looks like one of those gigantic electronic signs in Times Square. Once the show starts, the set does not stop moving until after the bows. It creates the frantic pace and atmosphere appropriate for this java-buzzed musical.

9 to 5 is a fun show—it’s not great theatre, but it’s fun. The audience has a great time, and it seems that the cast is having a great time too. This show brings in a crowd equally fun to watch. I love that people refer to the show’s three stars by the names of the actors who played the same roles in the film version of the show. When they refer to Megan Hilty (who is phenomenal as Doralee), they don’t call her Megan or Doralee. Rather, they say, “That precious little girl who plays Dolly sounds just like her.” Or they say, “I just love the one playing Jane Fonda, and that gal playing Lily is wonderful.” But then again, these are the people that 9 to 5 was written and created for.

I saw a Wednesday night performance. My next-seat neighbors arrived in NY from their home in Tennessee on Tuesday and saw 9 to 5 that night. They saw both performances on Wednesday. After the show as we walked by an usher, they squealed, “We’ll see you tomorrow. We have one more.”

These are the same people who are devastated by the news that the show is closing and have made it their mission to trek to New York en masse to support it. Over and over, these folks lamented the show’s fate. I smiled as they said to each other (but loud enough for everyone to hear), “It’s almost a full house! Why are they closing it?” It was as if they were trying to convince the rest of us to join their crusade to keep the show running. Their dedication is inspiring.

By contrast, the people sitting on the other side of me, a girl and a boy (both late teens) clearly there with their parents, were so busy texting that they had no time for the show. Texting is annoying in general—but it’s even more so (not to mention illegal) in a Broadway theatre. Have I mentioned that I hate people?

The show’s director, Joe Mantello, has assembled a cast that looks and sounds great. The stars are perfect for their roles. Megan Hilty is the blonde with a brain. Stephanie J. Block brings down the house in her solo “Get Out and Stay Out” and Allison Janney is delightful as the want-to-be CEO. Mark Kudish is dastardly as Mr. Hart—the self proclaimed sexist, egotistical, lying, hypocritical bigot. But the real star of this show is the ensemble who is put through an incredible workout at each performance by choreographer Andy Blankenbuehler. Every office work-simulating movement—filing a file, delivering a package, typing a memo—is punctuated in syncopated perfection. The visual effect is exhausting and wonderful.

9 to 5 is a crowd pleaser, but not necessarily for the New York audiences. It is pure fun. There’s no great message, no high art, no deep meanings. It is entertainment and for that, it’s great. I’m not surprised that the show is closing in New York after the summer tourist season, and launching its tour in Nashville. I expect the show to be a huge, sell-out as it treks across the country.

I’ll bet those devoted fans sitting next to me will be first in line to buy tickets when 9 to 5 plays their hometown. Good for them!

The Color Purple: Shades of Mediocrity

A couple of weeks ago, I saw the National Tour of The Color Purple at the Kennedy Center in Washington, DC. The highly-promoted tour stars Fantasia (who, from the title page of the program no longer needs her last name, Barino). Even though Fantasia gave a really solid performance that night, it’s taken me a while to write about the show. Honestly, it’s taken me a while to dissect my feelings about it.

To be fair, The Color Purple is not a bad musical—it’s perfectly fine. But in many ways, I think that mediocrity is the show’s downfall.

In the mid 80s, when I was in college at an arts conservatory in North Carolina, just down the road the legendary Stephen Spielberg was filming the screen adaptation of Alice Walker’s masterpiece, The Color Purple. This was particularly important because it meant an opportunity for art school students to appear in the Spielberg film as an extra. There was tremendous buzz on campus, and several of my friends and classmates ended up surviving the editing room floor and are forever immortalized in the film that made Whoopi and Oprah household names. The daily cafeteria chatter was the kind that defines film legends, “Yesterday, Spielberg stopped production for six hours waiting for the perfect cloud formation.”

Who knows whether or not the stories grew over time or even ever happened, but the thought that they might be true made Spielberg a genius in our minds. And the film version of The Color Purple did not disappoint. The film is lush, sweeping, touching, and beautiful. John Williams’ score mapped perfectly to every scene, giving real emotion and desperation to the characters and the setting.

This brings me back to the stage musical version of the same name. The Color Purple, the musical, is not lush and at times is not even melodic. The score is more forgettable and the book is a forced compilation of iconic moments, each reminding us of the same moment in the film. Every memorable line from the movie is here, but the context that strings these moments together is missing.

The worst offense is at the beginning of Act II with the representation of Africa. The scene looks like a moment designed to mock The Lion King—when the dead antelope is carried out, it looks like a Forbidden Broadway parody of The Circle of Life.

As I said, The Color Purple is not a bad show. But it should have been an amazing show. It should have been beautiful and touching. It should have captivated its audience and left not a dry eye in the house. It just didn’t.

I think the thing that disappoints me the most, is that The Color Purple is a marketing gift—with Oprah’s endorsement, the familiarity of the film, and Alice Walker’s powerful story, this show is packing in crowds of people who almost never go to the theatre. Here is an opportunity to introduce non-theatre goers to the magic of the stage—to get them hooked and coming back again and again. Rather than leverage this powerful property by producing a brilliant theatrical event, this audience is deceived into thinking that The Color Purple is theatrical genius. Everyone raves, and Oprah said that it’s good—therefore, it must be. The opportunity to educate, to inspire, and to introduce magic has been wasted.

I had a teacher at that North Carolina arts school who used to say, “There is no room in the arts for mediocrity.” Clearly, she hadn’t yet seen The Color Purple.