January 19, 2023
24 Hours in Liverpool: A Quick Tour of Beatlemania, Museums, and Other Sightsby Randi / August 15, 2018
It’s Theatre Thursday! Today we are talking about the musical Fun Home, which is playing at London’s Young Vic until September 1.
I haven’t been this nervous about a show in a long time. Experiencing the original Broadway production of Fun Home in 2015 was one of the most magical theatrical moments I’ve had. Everything about it was absolute perfection, including the first truly great use of the Circle in the Square Theatre’s setup in the round. I worried that the show would lose some of its power and emotional depth without that original cast that I so adored, without the circular theatre, without the extra tinge of greatness that Broadway musicals tend to have. Fortunately, Fun Home is in good hands at London’s Young Vic theatre, such good hands that I was dehydrated for days from all the crying.
I haven’t been this nervous about a show in a long time. Experiencing the original Broadway production of Fun Home in 2015 was one of the most magical theatrical moments I’ve had. Everything about it was absolute perfection, including the first truly great use of the Circle in the Square Theatre’s setup in the round. I worried that the show would lose some of its power and emotional depth without that original cast that I so adored, without the circular theatre, without the extra tinge of greatness that Broadway musicals tend to have. Fortunately, Fun Home is in good hands at London’s Young Vic theatre, such good hands that I was dehydrated for days from all the crying.
Fun Home is the musical adaptation of Alison Bechdel’s 2006 autobiographical graphic (autobiographical maybe?) of the same name, in which she delves into her childhood and her relationship with her father, who she learned was gay soon after she herself came out, and shortly before his suicide. The musical features Alison at three ages – as an adult, a new college student (Medium Alison), and as a 10-year-old kid (Small Alison). Now age 43, Alison, the ‘lesbian cartoonist’, as she calls herself, is sorting through her father’s old belongings and other mementos from her old house and her family’s funeral home in order to form her graphic novel. The adult Alison, played by a solid Kaisa Hammarlund, is prodded into memories as she looks at these belongings, and the moments from the two earlier stages of her life play out on the stage before her as she remembers them and starts to document them in her cartoons.
Hammarlund’s Big Alison carried the structure of the play well, with the memories eliciting reactions from her ranging from angry to embarrassed to remorseful. Her anger came when we saw her father stopping Small Alison (Harriet Turnbull) from expressing herself as she wanted to, or from her father’s quick temper and, sometimes, rage. Her embarrassment often came from truly hilarious moments of seeing her college-aged self try to sound smart but end up completely mortified. The great thing about getting different and unique incarnations of this show now is that different characters will shine the brightest depending on the cast and the interpretation. On Broadway, the discovery of the extraordinary Sydney Lucas, a one-in-a-million phenom of a child actor, stole the show with her natural, moving Small Alison and her showstopper ‘Ring of Keys’, where she first sees the kind of butch lesbian that feels so right to her. While that doesn’t mean regularly talented child actors like Turnbull do any less of a moving portrait of Small Alison – she was very good and had the audience completely taken – it means that the balance changes. Here, Medium Alison (Eleanor Kane) stood out as the showstopper, especially with her exceptional performance of “Changing My Major”, where her first sexual experience (with Cherrelle Skeete’s wonderful Joan) forces her to be completely vulnerable, uproariously funny (her little jumps!), and so touching all at once. Hers was a stunning performance and the standout of the night.
Well, one of the standouts; it’s a show full of magical moments. Big Alison’s remorse turned into another such moment in an emotionally resonant and brilliant part (of a show that is entirely brilliant and emotional): during the song “Telephone Wire”, when her memory of her last moments with her father shift his focus from Medium Alison to Big Alison herself, implanting herself into the past to try to futilely change it yet again. Bruce’s gaze moving to the daughter he never got to see as an adult is the kind of moment in a play where, if you are human, you’ll start making little yelpy puppy sounds as you try to suppress your overwhelming sobs. The impact of this moment felt real, and a scene that is heartbreaking simply as written takes on new tragic life.
But even though the story is ostensibly about Alison, it’s her father, Bruce (Zubin Varla), who becomes the focus. Varla takes the complex character of Bruce in a different direction from Michael Cerveris, the original Bruce. Cerveris played him much more natural and reserved, so his anger was shocking, his truly cruel comments to his family seeming unforgivable but infrequent. Varla, on the other hand, had crazy eyes most of the time, so his unstable emotional state was evident and it let his rage fly off the handle more. It was clearer, and for longer, how troubled this Bruce was, and even though I think I prefer the more grounded take – the one that sees the ache in an everyman rather than someone who is more obviously troubled – his interpretation was valid and equally moving. His brilliant introduction – letting the audience see how much he values the beauty he sees in the world – before we see how fast he can descend into rage, is so well done, as are his interactions with all the young men in his life (played by a talented Ashley Samuels) especially when contrasted with how he treats his family in similar situations.
As Alison’s mother Helen, Jenna Russell masterfully harnesses her coldness and uses it as a weapon against her family and her own vulnerability. As usual, Helen’s big song “Days and Days” is set up and performed flawlessly, in a truly remarkable bit of songwriting that lets you understand all of her character’s motivations but completely disagree with her. The big change from the show being presented in the round paid off in this scene, when the set of the house changes into a surprisingly larger, lavish one. I was surprised that it didn’t stay in the round, especially since I’ve seen productions in the round at the Young Vic, and since the original director, Sam Gold, apparently directed this production too. But the changes worked, especially in this scene, and it was interesting to see the show presented from a regular proscenium, although Bruce’s final scenes felt a little static.
The brilliant songwriting is really the star of this show, the reason why it resonates and why every inch of it feels necessary and special. Jeanine Tesori and Lisa Kron’s score and book stand with the best of musical theatre. When I first heard some of it, I thought it was a little too simple. But its lack of big belted numbers or traditional musical theatre moments in favor of personal connection and delicate motifs makes it such a singular achievement in telling such an intimate story. Moments that I thought at first were to lift the somber mood, like when Small Alison imagines her family as a happy singing and dancing one like she watches on TV in “Raincoat of Love”, actually had me crying: It’s not a goofy break from the drama; it’s a heartbreaking look at the kind of happiness this poor child wishes she had. It’s forking sad. Okay so “Come to the Fun Home” is still a very silly moment that lets the kids have fun, but it’s followed by a scene that I don’t remember being so harrowing – when Bruce calls Small Alison in and she sees her first dead body. This small moment was riveting, especially with Big Alison’s anger at remembering this moment and her frustration that she’ll never understand her father’s reasons for doing it.
Such precise, flawless writing feels wrong to change, so the few lyric changes I noticed I don’t really understand. In the beginning, Small Alison originally orders her father to play airplane with her and sings “I wanna play airplane/I wanna put my arms out and fly/Like the Red Baron in the Sopwith Camel”. Apparently that’s a reference to Peanuts, when Snoopy pretends to fly on his doghouse. I don’t know anything about the Sopwith Camel or Snoopy pretending to fly in Peanuts but I know the Red Baron, so the line made overall sense to me – she wants to fly like a plane. To quote my girl Tahani, you can get some of these from context. But in this production, it’s changed to “I wanna put my arms out and fly/like Snoopy and the Red Baron”. Is that really a change that helps people get the reference? I feel like you either know that reference or you don’t, so it’s an odd change for me, dog.
But it’s a tiny non-issue with an overall great production of this incredible show. It’s by far the best musical playing in London right now. I love that such a small show about such specific characters feels so universal, and that it’s getting the chance to be loved by a new audience.
AUDIENCE
Since this is the first (only?) show with a lesbian protagonist and it’s heavily about characters’ sexuality, it’s drawing a more diverse crowd that you see in the theatre usually, which is awesome. But it means some possibly new theatergoers are not used to theatre etiquette. When Medium Alison writes home, “Dear mom and dad, I’m a lesbian”, one or two audience members whooped and shouted YASS. Audiences, I get that it’s amazing when you feel represented in art, but if you want to be a part of the action, become an actor. It is not a YAS moment. In fact, there are no YAS moments in this show. And just for everyone’s edification, don’t talk or sing along or bullshit like that in the theatre unless everyone onstage makes it clear that they want you to do so (e.g. during “No Time At All” in Pippin, and during the curtain call of “Mamma Mia!”. Pretty sure that’s it).
Shout out to the one usher at the Young Vic who was READY to snatch cell phones. We could be friends.
Hammarlund’s Big Alison carried the structure of the play well, with the memories eliciting reactions from her ranging from angry to embarrassed to remorseful. Her anger came when we saw her father stopping Small Alison (Harriet Turnbull) from expressing herself as she wanted to, or from her father’s quick temper and, sometimes, rage. Her embarrassment often came from truly hilarious moments of seeing her college-aged self try to sound smart but end up completely mortified. The great thing about getting different and unique incarnations of this show now is that different characters will shine the brightest depending on the cast and the interpretation. On Broadway, the discovery of the extraordinary Sydney Lucas, a one-in-a-million phenom of a child actor, stole the show with her natural, moving Small Alison and her showstopper ‘Ring of Keys’, where she first sees the kind of butch lesbian that feels so right to her. While that doesn’t mean regularly talented child actors like Turnbull do any less of a moving portrait of Small Alison – she was very good and had the audience completely taken – it means that the balance changes. Here, Medium Alison (Eleanor Kane) stood out as the showstopper, especially with her exceptional performance of “Changing My Major”, where her first sexual experience (with Cherrelle Skeete’s wonderful Joan) forces her to be completely vulnerable, uproariously funny (her little jumps!), and so touching all at once. Hers was a stunning performance and the standout of the night.
Well, one of the standouts; it’s a show full of magical moments. Big Alison’s remorse turned into another such moment in an emotionally resonant and brilliant part (of a show that is entirely brilliant and emotional): during the song “Telephone Wire”, when her memory of her last moments with her father shift his focus from Medium Alison to Big Alison herself, implanting herself into the past to try to futilely change it yet again. Bruce’s gaze moving to the daughter he never got to see as an adult is the kind of moment in a play where, if you are human, you’ll start making little yelpy puppy sounds as you try to suppress your overwhelming sobs. The impact of this moment felt real, and a scene that is heartbreaking simply as written takes on new tragic life.
But even though the story is ostensibly about Alison, it’s her father, Bruce (Zubin Varla), who becomes the focus. Varla takes the complex character of Bruce in a different direction from Michael Cerveris, the original Bruce. Cerveris played him much more natural and reserved, so his anger was shocking, his truly cruel comments to his family seeming unforgivable but infrequent. Varla, on the other hand, had crazy eyes most of the time, so his unstable emotional state was evident and it let his rage fly off the handle more. It was clearer, and for longer, how troubled this Bruce was, and even though I think I prefer the more grounded take – the one that sees the ache in an everyman rather than someone who is more obviously troubled – his interpretation was valid and equally moving. His brilliant introduction – letting the audience see how much he values the beauty he sees in the world – before we see how fast he can descend into rage, is so well done, as are his interactions with all the young men in his life (played by a talented Ashley Samuels) especially when contrasted with how he treats his family in similar situations.
As Alison’s mother Helen, Jenna Russell masterfully harnesses her coldness and uses it as a weapon against her family and her own vulnerability. As usual, Helen’s big song “Days and Days” is set up and performed flawlessly, in a truly remarkable bit of songwriting that lets you understand all of her character’s motivations but completely disagree with her. The big change from the show being presented in the round paid off in this scene, when the set of the house changes into a surprisingly larger, lavish one. I was surprised that it didn’t stay in the round, especially since I’ve seen productions in the round at the Young Vic, and since the original director, Sam Gold, apparently directed this production too. But the changes worked, especially in this scene, and it was interesting to see the show presented from a regular proscenium, although Bruce’s final scenes felt a little static.
The brilliant songwriting is really the star of this show, the reason why it resonates and why every inch of it feels necessary and special. Jeanine Tesori and Lisa Kron’s score and book stand with the best of musical theatre. When I first heard some of it, I thought it was a little too simple. But its lack of big belted numbers or traditional musical theatre moments in favor of personal connection and delicate motifs makes it such a singular achievement in telling such an intimate story. Moments that I thought at first were to lift the somber mood, like when Small Alison imagines her family as a happy singing and dancing one like she watches on TV in “Raincoat of Love”, actually had me crying: It’s not a goofy break from the drama; it’s a heartbreaking look at the kind of happiness this poor child wishes she had. It’s forking sad. Okay so “Come to the Fun Home” is still a very silly moment that lets the kids have fun, but it’s followed by a scene that I don’t remember being so harrowing – when Bruce calls Small Alison in and she sees her first dead body. This small moment was riveting, especially with Big Alison’s anger at remembering this moment and her frustration that she’ll never understand her father’s reasons for doing it.
Such precise, flawless writing feels wrong to change, so the few lyric changes I noticed I don’t really understand. In the beginning, Small Alison originally orders her father to play airplane with her and sings “I wanna play airplane/I wanna put my arms out and fly/Like the Red Baron in the Sopwith Camel”. Apparently that’s a reference to Peanuts, when Snoopy pretends to fly on his doghouse. I don’t know anything about the Sopwith Camel or Snoopy pretending to fly in Peanuts but I know the Red Baron, so the line made overall sense to me – she wants to fly like a plane. To quote my girl Tahani, you can get some of these from context. But in this production, it’s changed to “I wanna put my arms out and fly/like Snoopy and the Red Baron”. Is that really a change that helps people get the reference? I feel like you either know that reference or you don’t, so it’s an odd change for me, dog.
But it’s a tiny non-issue with an overall great production of this incredible show. It’s by far the best musical playing in London right now. I love that such a small show about such specific characters feels so universal, and that it’s getting the chance to be loved by a new audience.
AUDIENCE
Since this is the first (only?) show with a lesbian protagonist and it’s heavily about characters’ sexuality, it’s drawing a more diverse crowd that you see in the theatre usually, which is awesome. But it means some possibly new theatergoers are not used to theatre etiquette. When Medium Alison writes home, “Dear mom and dad, I’m a lesbian”, one or two audience members whooped and shouted YASS. Audiences, I get that it’s amazing when you feel represented in art, but if you want to be a part of the action, become an actor. It is not a YAS moment. In fact, there are no YAS moments in this show. And just for everyone’s edification, don’t talk or sing along or bullshit like that in the theatre unless everyone onstage makes it clear that they want you to do so (e.g. during “No Time At All” in Pippin, and during the curtain call of “Mamma Mia!”. Pretty sure that’s it).
Shout out to the one usher at the Young Vic who was READY to snatch cell phones. We could be friends.
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I Can’t Believe Back to the Future Won the Olivier
The omission of Einstein isn’t even the worst part.
A good musical justifies the use of music — it should be an important component of the show that helps to tell the story better. And the creators’ answer to the necessary question of ‘what purpose does the music serve?’ cannot be simply ‘to make the show a musical’. I feel like this fact is why UK musical theatre is not taken as seriously as it is in NYC – because if you’re adding music just for the sake of adding music, which seems to be sooo ofteeennn theee caaaase, and not so the music actually serves a purpose, it’s not going to be good, it’s not respecting the art form.
To justify musicalizing a movie, you need to answer the above AND be able to offer something to the question of ‘why don’t I just watch the movie instead?’ Even with ‘Mean Girls’ on Broadway, which was heavily not great and obviously unedited and needed at least 20 minutes cut from each act which were chock full of similar sounding songs…okay I’ll stop since this isn’t about Mean Girls but anyway, even there, it was able to justify its stage existence through some great characterizations (everything Kate Rockwell did, Taylor Louderman’s existence) and hilarious lines (everything Grey Henson said), and it justified being a musical with some actually good songs that served the story and characters well (World Burn, Meet the Plastics, a few more). Even though 7 songs were carbon copies that served no purpose, overall it justified its existence as a separate entity from the movie.
Why am I talking about ‘Mean Girls’? Because despite its flaws, it was able to answer the two questions above. ‘Back to the Future: The Musical’, which somehow (f-ing London) won the OLIVIER, was not. With its lackluster score full of cliched lyrics, it reminded me more of the stage adaptation of ‘Pretty Woman‘, and we all remember how that trainwreck was.
I really wanted to love this, and I waited so long, throughout many months away, to see Roger Bart, who I adore, as Doc. But I thought it was quite obviously unedited for a supposedly finished product. The score comprises hackneyed lyrics and no original melodies. And Roger is – I’m sure directed to be – going way too overboard in going overbroad. It’s the kind of performance that breaks the 4th wall for no good reason, where he’ll stick his tongue out to the audience and the drunk of their ass audience CHEERS for it, where he stops a song and asks the ensemble dancers who they are and tells them to get out of his house. I guess I just don’t get that kind of unearned hackneyed comedy. It feels very British and despite my passport that’s not me! He had some good moments but it’s all TOO MUCH. In that regard, most of the humor felt very lowest common denominator, which British audiences seem to always adore, possibly stemming from their expectations of panto-vibes at regular musicals.
While the rest of the audience was going gaga for it and everyone seems to absolutely ADORE it and that’s wonderful for y’all and so who cares what I think, I was disappointed. I felt BTTF really needed a run-through with a dramaturg, as so many shows do but for some reason never get. (As always, I volunteer as tribute to do this, as well as to catch things like when people say ‘asbest-TOSS’ when trying to do American accents. (We use a schwa on the ‘tos’.)) I’m sure that someone watching with a critical eye would have, on the very first run-through, cut Jennifer’s first song (did absolutely nothing and with only platitudes for lyrics) and the painful “my myopia is my utopia” song that George sings in the tree. Also it’s weird that George has more songs than Doc! Maybe if Doc had more genuine work to do, they wouldn’t have had to pad his part with super strange hamming for cheap audience laughs. The new thread of him feeling sad and emo about his dreams felt unearned and unnecessary. Guy KNOWS that he built a WORKING TIME MACHINE.
I’ll give it this: it looked amazing. The special effects and projections are great, as is the all-important car — indeed the best part is the car’s special little ending. Actually, the best part is that Olly Dobson sounds EXACTLY like Michael J. Fox. It’s truly uncanny. The cast is working hard and largely charming, led by Olly. The energy of the group numbers is great, and that energy lifts this show out of its drecky basement for a short bit, like in the hey mama welcome to the ’50s song. (We had the short-lived hope that that this song would commence a flip of the tone of the show to be more sardonic commentary in line with the lyrics, but alas, it was not to be. That would have been interesting!) The ’50s girl-group sounding songs Lorraine sings, and even Biff’s song, were decent, reflecting the sound of the era, which could have been a great way to steer and coalesce the score in general. Mayor Wilson’s song and Bart’s opening number for Act II were also fine, totally made by the performers’ energy, but still sounded like early drafts of songs that could/should have been better.
The rest of the songs were either full of hackneyed lines that made me cringe or were simply unnecessary to build the characters or propel the story. The book was equally painful, and that’s after you account for the fact that the source material is essentially about a “17-year-old high school student whose best friend is a disgraced nuclear physicist (“and they never explain it! and this guy’s either 40 or 80, even we don’t know how old this guy’s supposed to be!”) who goes back in time and (“and he stops the Kennedy assassination?” “oh that would have been a good idea!”) and tries to f*ck his mom. We thought that’d be fun for people! But he doesn’t get to, he doesn’t get to, because this family friend Biff tries to rape the mom in front of the son, then the dad’s gotta beat the rapist off of her, and also we’re gonna imply that a white man wrote Johnny Be Good so we’re gonna take that away from them!” Even aside from all that, and the idea of time travel, the musical book manages to do its own damage and show the awkwardness of the base story even more starkly, mostly via LCD humor and about 20 minutes of extraneous bloat in each act. (Seriously, it should not be this long.) And the placement of “Power of Love” vs. in the movie doesn’t work.
Overall, the only evident answer to the question of ‘why is this a musical?’ seems to be ‘to make a big spectacle musical that rakes in cash’ (seriously, the tickets are insanely priced, like Broadway-style insanity). With such a trite score and scene after scene that doesn’t pass the smell test and the best part being that Olly sounds just like Michael J. Fox, the answer to ‘why shouldn’t I just watch the movie instead?’ is, actually you should.
OH! I almost forgot the ‘best’ part, but never can because it’s seared into my memory along with the endless list of London shows with unnecessary Jewish jokes that had nothing to do with the story and where the audience laughed in a way that felt predatory: When Lorraine thought Marty’s name was Calvin Klein, one of her girlfriends said “is that Jewish?” as they walked offstage, and the audience laughed! Because that’s a funny joke! I honestly thought that maybe ONE show in this town wouldn’t have a discomfiting Jewish joke and even more discomfiting audience reaction but serves me right for thinking that.
INFORMATION
Start; 19:35
Act I ends: 20:46
Act II ends: 22:12
Actually that’s when the curtain call ended and I left to pee, but they sing more songs so that everyone is up and dancing and leaves happy, so who knows how long that went on for.
Literally the worst, drunkest, most on-their-phones-and-talking-to-each-other audience I’ve maybe ever encountered.
The View Upstairs at the Soho: Heartfelt Yet Uneven Tribute with Potential
It’s Theatre Thursday! Today’s show is The View Upstairs, playing at London’s Soho Theatre until August 24.
The best kinds of theatre tell a story somehow relevant to today, regardless of the time period or subject matter of the show, and get the message across in nuanced, powerful ways. In The View Upstairs, Max Vernon’s 2017 musical about the LGBTQ+ community, they’re getting a lot right, but there’s room for improvement. They’ve got the emotion, the politics, the lofty goals of what they want the end product to do, and a game and talented cast, but the nuance and art of it need work to make the show as a whole sing. With all that emotional honesty at the ready, the show has the potential to be great with some focus on fixing the weak spots.
Going into this production, the European premiere of Vernon’s musical that played off-Broadway in 2017, I didn’t know what it was about. I didn’t even know it was a musical (best kind of surprise you could ever gift me, universe), and I definitely didn’t know it was about the 1973 New Orleans arson attack on a gay bar called the UpStairs, the biggest, deadliest attack on the queer community until Pulse. If you read that and thought ‘they made that horrible depressing story a musical?’ then you don’t know the power of musical theatre to tell any and every kind of story. The musical treatment feels right for this intimate, heartfelt play, with it becoming overall a lovely tribute to the victims. However, it wasn’t cohesive enough as a whole to be truly great theatre just yet. I feel like if they were willing to make some changes at this stage (preview period baby!), it can be.
Roughly, the story is about a 2019 fab-u-lous young influencer named Wes (a fabulous Tyrone Huntley, like wow you are a star and must be exhausted) who is trying to redefine and grow his brand by buying an abandoned building in New Orleans, the future home to his clothing line/influencing products I don’t know I don’t understand instagram. The realtor explains that some of the damage is the result of a fire, obviously the Chekhov’s gun of realtor comments even if you didn’t know what the show was about. I was like OH SHIT OH SHIT WE’RE GONNA SEE THE FIRE I HATE FIRE AHHH WHERE ARE THE EXITS. Wes sings the best song in the show, “#HouseholdName (I’m sorry the # is in the name I have to do it), does some drogas, and suddenly is in 1973, his building now (/then) a fun semi-secret gay bar filled with all sorts of characters. He’s a little confused – is he tripping? is he time-travelling? (Mantzoukas voice:) what’s going ON?! – but quickly rolls with whatever’s happening. His rolling with the punches/homies is uneven, because he doesn’t seem to ask any questions or do a ‘wait, what?’ moment, which is fine I guess, but then later in the show Wes begins a song with a lyric about how he’s been freaking out all night trying to figure out what’s happening and I was like, um no you haven’t? you were just kind of immediately cool with this?
The cast of characters Wes drops in on in 1973 are enjoying the UpStairs bar, a place where they can be themselves without worrying (too much) about the outside world. There’s Buddy (John Partridge), the lounge’s piano player (who reminded me so much of some old-timey musician but also of Jack Skellington), a closeted gay man with a wife and family whose resentment comes out to hurt everyone and not just himself, but for some reason no one seems to mind what an asshole he is. They mind that Dale (Declan Bennett), a clearly troubled man who needs help, is an asshole, but is he that much more of an asshole than Buddy? His song was really moving; I just wish it (and others) weren’t set up so clunkily.
The talented cast all get some moments to shine, some more than others, but some are miscast or mistreated. A standout for me was Cedric Neal’s Willie, who gets the perfect balanced role of making both funny and poignant comments while showing off his ridiculous voice. I loved Carly Mercedes Dyer as Henri, always reliable for belting her face off, but it was strange that she didn’t get a solo but Freddy’s mother had two?? I mean wtf. I loved Victoria Hamilton-Barritt in In the Heights, but her Puerto Rican accent did not work here, and the Ines character, mother of Freddy, has two too many songs. They bring the action to a screeching halt. Also, she looks at oldest in her early 30s, so casting her as the mother of someone who looks…also in his early 30s is beyond ridiculous. Yes yes actors should be able to play whoever and whatever they want (just ask ScarJo) but if you want to portray the emotional beats of a mother and son, they shouldn’t look like man + little sister who just came from church.
But the most disappointing part is how the pivotal role of Patrick is treated. Andy Mientus has come over from the great broad way to teach us how it’s done over here, and while he himself is fantastic as always, Patrick is not fleshed out as much as the role should be. First of all, Andy, one of the best musical theatre performers of his type right now, is given the two worst songs to sing. They do nothing to show off his voice; they kind of feel like first drafts. The second song was so close to being strong but it was clearly in the wrong key, and like, minor? Make it major and it would improve exponentially without hurting the song’s message. As for his character, Patrick seems like all the other ‘70s people, living their normal lives when Wes just drops in on them. But at the end, he acts like he’s been some sort of narrator or leader to Wes like forking Cuba Gooding Jr. in What Dreams May Come. But he wasn’t! But make him one! It would be so interesting (and really help with cohesiveness) if there was this constant thread of Patrick as narrator or guide. His talking to Wes at the end makes no sense (especially his big joke line about being ‘f-ing magical’, though funny) unless the character is retooled throughout the body of the show to actually be f-ing magical, some sort of guide through this memory.
Although I wanted to ignore any problems and focus on how important this story was, the problems are too obvious. The transitions between dialogue and songs feel very amateur and clunky, with a lot of spoken moments between characters that might as well have set up the next song like, “here, let me sing about what I mean.” It diminishes the flow of the story and the character development to set it up that way. It kind of felt like Working. It shouldn’t.
One more problem I had was the contrast they kept trying to force between the community in the ‘70s versus today. There are sooo many compelling differences to discuss, yet the focus seemed to be on how people today are vapid attention whores who just want influence online and strong branding, at the expense of real relationships and love, and that the gay community is purely and coldly transactional. That’s true for Wes, clearly, but I don’t see that as true for many people today. Yes, many spend lots of time forging internet presences, but most of them also have real lives, so that’s not a universal problem and shouldn’t be treated as one. I mean maybe the message of the importance of community is just meant for like YouTube stars who go to see it but I doubt that. It would be stronger if it focused more on Wes’s personal struggle instead of trying to blame an entire generation for the bad parts of the internet.
This feels like an opportune time to point out one of Laughfrodisiac’s favorite – and defining – movie quotes:
I’ve shared a lot of not-nice thoughts about this new musical but only because it’s all there, all the groundwork, all the emotion, all the heart they need to make it magical. (Now I need to quote Cuba: ‘I’M ALL HEART MUFUCKA!’) With a bit of work it can be great.
INFORMATION
During early previews, the show ran 2 hours straight through, no interval. There were several moments were it would have been fine to break the show and have an interval, which is highly recommended so other people don’t get UTIs. Also, not worrying about keeping it to one act could let more transitions be fleshed out fully.
STAGE DOOR
The Soho doesn’t really allow for regular stage-dooring, so you just wait outside the main entrance (as of now) for actors who want to come out from the lobby bar to come out. Cedric Neal came out first and was incredibly lovely and amazing, followed by Mientus who was also really nice. I left before anyone else came out. I think they were all hanging in the bar so if you are cool and at ease in bars you could just stick around in there.
