"You Can't Take It With You" on Broadway: Crazy Fun Times That Will Remind You of Thanksgivingby Randi / October 24, 2014
I never thought I would miss or even appreciate Gwyneth Paltrow. Sure, she was never hocking $200 white t-shirts and fair-trade moccasin shavings in her movies, but her Gooping activity has infiltrated most people’s memories of her acting history. Her film career is clouded with the smoke emanating from her custom glass gilded barbecue for macrobiotic mushrooms and meat from animals she petted with Mario Batali. But she was a pretty good actress, remember? And her Viola de Lesseps in “Shakespeare in Love” was fantastic, Oscar-worthy and Oscar-winning stuff.
So why did I all of a sudden recall Gwynnie’s ‘90s-era acting ability with such fondness? It’s kind of mean, but it’s because I just saw the new play version of “Shakespeare in Love” on the West End. It’s a lovely, fun show that you’ll enjoy, especially if you liked the movie. But if, like me, you loved the movie, so much so that you confront the 90% of the populace that still likes to argue that it shouldn’t have won Best Picture over “Saving Private Ryan”, then you will also, like me, find various quibbles with this show’s lack of editing, its pushing of easy physical laughs, and…the crazy voice of its Viola. (I mean, you don’t have to have even seen the movie to agree with the latter.)
Now listen. The actress playing Viola, Lucy Briggs-Owen, is wonderful. Especially in the second act, she absolutely won me over and made me cry and stuff. But I still just cannot get over her voice. She has the raspy, gravelly voice of a 2-packs a day night-shift trucker who counts Marge Simpson and Harvey Fierstein as close relatives. During Act 1, I was wide-eyed with disbelief that a character whose entire purpose rests on the gloriousness of her speaking voice was cast so surprisingly. It’s actually hilarious. The story will hook you nonetheless, as the producers perhaps try to prove that one’s voice doesn’t matter as long as you are beautiful, or something? I doubt that was their aim.
Anyway, yes, so the story is indeed centered on Viola’s voice, or what she does with it: act. She is a noble lady promised to marry a truly awful man named Wessex, but she just wants to be an actor, especially in Shakespeare’s plays, because she has an enormous literary crush on him and yearns for her life to be filled with poetry, as all young girls do. Fortunately for her, she’s actually a superb actor. Viola calls up all her courage and auditions for a new play disguised as a man, meeting the bard himself during her ‘amazing’ audition. This is when I started to roll my eyes a little. At this point, Will Shakespeare is super down in the dumps, dirty-haired, shirt-unbuttoned, totally out of sorts and depressed that he’ll never be able to find a star for his new play “Romeo and Ethel the Pirate’s Daughter”. We see awful no good actor after awful no good actor butcher auditions as Will sinks deeper. But then Viola, disguised as Thomas Kent, enters and begins her monologue from “Two Gentlemen of Verona”, and it’s supposed to rouse Will from the darkness, give him hope in his play, and make him fall in a sort of awe-inspired love. But…but…but…her voice! I didn’t believe that the anti-smoking ad that Viola seemed to make out of “What light be light if Sylvia be not seen” would have changed Will’s life so. Well, but it did, so I’ll stop mocking the poor girl’s voice. Don’t get me wrong, she’s a fantastic actress; I just didn’t get her for this part where the purity and beauty of the voice is so important! The best is in the famous canoe scene, when Will is describing to ‘Thomas’ his feelings for Viola, and she’s like “tell me about her beauty; what’s her hair like?” and Will’s like “long and blonde so nice” and Viola’s like “and her lips” and Will’s like “erma, such lips” and then Viola’s like “and her voice?” and I cackled.
Anywayyyyy, so Will’s like erma p. gerd, I found my Romeo, and at about the same time, he sees the undisguised Viola at a ball he crashed, and is like, erma p., I found my muse and my love because I loves me some long blonde hair and influenza-ridden smoker voice. I’m sorry now I’m done. So Will Shakespeare, this beyond brilliant best playwright of all time, OF ALL TIME, doesn’t realize that they’re the same person even though all his plays feature gender-bending disguises. I guess all those plot-twists come after this point in time, inspired by Viola. Cute.
Oh besides the voice, the craziest change from the movie is how stupid Will seems before he meets Viola/Thomas. The play starts with him trying to write Sonnet #18, “Shall I Compare Thee To A Summer’s Day”, with the whole company watching. It’s kind of funny, how he can’t finish the first line, but then it gets tiresome when we hear the sonnet for the 9th time in one act. Also, Christopher Marlowe helps him write it, or really writes most of it for him. He also gives Will most of the groundwork for the main conflict of “Romeo & Juliet”, plus the name Juliet. In the play, it’s completely different from the not-so-good-natured playwright rivalry of the movie. Instead, the play shows them as pretty much BFFs, with Marlowe being the brains of the operation and Will being brilliant only when inspired by love. Marlowe’s death is that much sadder, and I loved their boyish friendship. But I didn’t like how the entire first act made Will sort of a buffoon. It is very easy and effective to show writer’s block as the movie did – somewhat subtly and realistically. It doesn’t need to be over the top. Who doesn’t know what writer’s block is! It’s unnecessary to show writer’s block by having the writer seem stupid. Now that’s just offensive to all writers. I did, however, really like the actor playing Marlowe, and I am glad they made the part so much bigger and meatier for the play for his sake, so let’s call it a draw.
The rest of Shakespeare’s acting troupe included a mustachioed yet winning pirate with long greasy hair playing the Ben Affleck role, a young pretty-faced boy who plays the girl parts while he can, and a tailor given the prologue whose stutter we’re supposed to laugh at?? In the film, the stutterer was someone you rooted for and cheered with when he conquered it with performing. But in the show, it felt more like the stutter was on display for the audience to ridicule. Not a good change. Please, if you see this or any other show ever, you’re probably a douche if you laugh at disability on display.
Queen Elizabeth, the role Judi Dench won an Oscar for despite only having like 4 lines and being onscreen for a shorter time than it takes me to tie my shoes, is played more humorous than regal here, which is somewhat off-putting. I don’t know Lizzie the I like I know Lizzie the II, but I’m pretty sure neither of them would be humorous in front of the general public. In front of family and friends, sure, but not in front of poor people. This Queen was written, directed, and acted just a little too familiarly. I want my queens bitchy, stern, and formal, thanks.
My favorite minor character I didn’t even realize was my favorite until the program verified it afterwards. Paul Chahidi, who was the glorious maid in Twelfth Night on Broadway last season (with Mark Rylance, originally at the Globe), played the Geoffrey Rush producer part of Henslowe. Paul Chahidi is superb and I want to see him as the humorous sidekick in pretty much every single play, even those without humorous sidekicks. Rush gave the movie its major memorable line, as he said at various points, to explain how things sort of work themselves out, “It’s a mystery!” and it was adorable, and we liked it, and we loved it. Chahidi’s Henslowe says it once early on and I smiled…but then in Act Two, he started saying it more and more. In the final 20 minutes, I think he said it 4 times. That is too many. That’s the writer’s fault, not Chahidi’s (Paul’s likeability is what saves us from groaning) but that’s something that should have been caught. That overuse and the 9 times we have to listen to Sonnet #18 should have been addressed by editors.
Regardless of these quibbles, the play is overall enjoyable and should make you laugh and cry and laugh and cry some more if you are not a robot. They really should have taken the opportunity to make this a musical and try to elevate it above and beyond the movie, rather than aiming to equal it, but I’ll leave that development to future artists. The story is strong enough without music, I guess. Will and Viola fall in love, Will is totally inspired and writes the genius “Romeo & Juliet” (it’s genius, even if you’re still sick of it from middle school), and Viola has to follow the queen’s and her father’s orders and marry Wessex. This oh this was also much worse than the movie. Wessex is a total shit in both, just a horrible awful man, but at least in the movie he looked like Colin Firth so you didn’t feel toooo badly for Viola. Here he’s just a normal so it’s real sad. Also, her father (whom I don’t think we see in the movie) is an even worse shit. So at least she gets away from him. The maid, the best part of the movie because it’s Imelda Stanton, is just okay here. She kind of milks her “It is a new day!” line to get laughs from the audience when really it should only be the set-up for Viola’s “It is a new world” reply, which is instead tossed aside.
Tom Bateman as Will works unbelievably hard, so hard that the sweat literally pours off of him throughout the show. His hair was soaking wet the entire time, even at stage door. I was like, “I don’t know how you are going to do a second show tonight” and he said “I don’t know either!” which is funny and self-deprecating but then he lit a cigarette and I was like, oh so you want to struggle to keep up, I get it.
So, anyway, no matter how you felt about the movie, this show is worth seeing. It’s not perfect, and like 99% of shows (/movies/television/books/anything), I wish I was able to edit it before it was considered set and finished, but alas, it has a few flaws. Luckily, these flaws won’t keep you from enjoying the show, and at least in the case of Viola’s uncharacteristically husky voice, some of them will help you enjoy it more. Okay now I’m done making fun.
Anyway, yes, so the story is indeed centered on Viola’s voice, or what she does with it: act. She is a noble lady promised to marry a truly awful man named Wessex, but she just wants to be an actor, especially in Shakespeare’s plays, because she has an enormous literary crush on him and yearns for her life to be filled with poetry, as all young girls do. Fortunately for her, she’s actually a superb actor. Viola calls up all her courage and auditions for a new play disguised as a man, meeting the bard himself during her ‘amazing’ audition. This is when I started to roll my eyes a little. At this point, Will Shakespeare is super down in the dumps, dirty-haired, shirt-unbuttoned, totally out of sorts and depressed that he’ll never be able to find a star for his new play “Romeo and Ethel the Pirate’s Daughter”. We see awful no good actor after awful no good actor butcher auditions as Will sinks deeper. But then Viola, disguised as Thomas Kent, enters and begins her monologue from “Two Gentlemen of Verona”, and it’s supposed to rouse Will from the darkness, give him hope in his play, and make him fall in a sort of awe-inspired love. But…but…but…her voice! I didn’t believe that the anti-smoking ad that Viola seemed to make out of “What light be light if Sylvia be not seen” would have changed Will’s life so. Well, but it did, so I’ll stop mocking the poor girl’s voice. Don’t get me wrong, she’s a fantastic actress; I just didn’t get her for this part where the purity and beauty of the voice is so important! The best is in the famous canoe scene, when Will is describing to ‘Thomas’ his feelings for Viola, and she’s like “tell me about her beauty; what’s her hair like?” and Will’s like “long and blonde so nice” and Viola’s like “and her lips” and Will’s like “erma, such lips” and then Viola’s like “and her voice?” and I cackled.
Anywayyyyy, so Will’s like erma p. gerd, I found my Romeo, and at about the same time, he sees the undisguised Viola at a ball he crashed, and is like, erma p., I found my muse and my love because I loves me some long blonde hair and influenza-ridden smoker voice. I’m sorry now I’m done. So Will Shakespeare, this beyond brilliant best playwright of all time, OF ALL TIME, doesn’t realize that they’re the same person even though all his plays feature gender-bending disguises. I guess all those plot-twists come after this point in time, inspired by Viola. Cute.
Oh besides the voice, the craziest change from the movie is how stupid Will seems before he meets Viola/Thomas. The play starts with him trying to write Sonnet #18, “Shall I Compare Thee To A Summer’s Day”, with the whole company watching. It’s kind of funny, how he can’t finish the first line, but then it gets tiresome when we hear the sonnet for the 9th time in one act. Also, Christopher Marlowe helps him write it, or really writes most of it for him. He also gives Will most of the groundwork for the main conflict of “Romeo & Juliet”, plus the name Juliet. In the play, it’s completely different from the not-so-good-natured playwright rivalry of the movie. Instead, the play shows them as pretty much BFFs, with Marlowe being the brains of the operation and Will being brilliant only when inspired by love. Marlowe’s death is that much sadder, and I loved their boyish friendship. But I didn’t like how the entire first act made Will sort of a buffoon. It is very easy and effective to show writer’s block as the movie did – somewhat subtly and realistically. It doesn’t need to be over the top. Who doesn’t know what writer’s block is! It’s unnecessary to show writer’s block by having the writer seem stupid. Now that’s just offensive to all writers. I did, however, really like the actor playing Marlowe, and I am glad they made the part so much bigger and meatier for the play for his sake, so let’s call it a draw.
The rest of Shakespeare’s acting troupe included a mustachioed yet winning pirate with long greasy hair playing the Ben Affleck role, a young pretty-faced boy who plays the girl parts while he can, and a tailor given the prologue whose stutter we’re supposed to laugh at?? In the film, the stutterer was someone you rooted for and cheered with when he conquered it with performing. But in the show, it felt more like the stutter was on display for the audience to ridicule. Not a good change. Please, if you see this or any other show ever, you’re probably a douche if you laugh at disability on display.
Queen Elizabeth, the role Judi Dench won an Oscar for despite only having like 4 lines and being onscreen for a shorter time than it takes me to tie my shoes, is played more humorous than regal here, which is somewhat off-putting. I don’t know Lizzie the I like I know Lizzie the II, but I’m pretty sure neither of them would be humorous in front of the general public. In front of family and friends, sure, but not in front of poor people. This Queen was written, directed, and acted just a little too familiarly. I want my queens bitchy, stern, and formal, thanks.
My favorite minor character I didn’t even realize was my favorite until the program verified it afterwards. Paul Chahidi, who was the glorious maid in Twelfth Night on Broadway last season (with Mark Rylance, originally at the Globe), played the Geoffrey Rush producer part of Henslowe. Paul Chahidi is superb and I want to see him as the humorous sidekick in pretty much every single play, even those without humorous sidekicks. Rush gave the movie its major memorable line, as he said at various points, to explain how things sort of work themselves out, “It’s a mystery!” and it was adorable, and we liked it, and we loved it. Chahidi’s Henslowe says it once early on and I smiled…but then in Act Two, he started saying it more and more. In the final 20 minutes, I think he said it 4 times. That is too many. That’s the writer’s fault, not Chahidi’s (Paul’s likeability is what saves us from groaning) but that’s something that should have been caught. That overuse and the 9 times we have to listen to Sonnet #18 should have been addressed by editors.
Regardless of these quibbles, the play is overall enjoyable and should make you laugh and cry and laugh and cry some more if you are not a robot. They really should have taken the opportunity to make this a musical and try to elevate it above and beyond the movie, rather than aiming to equal it, but I’ll leave that development to future artists. The story is strong enough without music, I guess. Will and Viola fall in love, Will is totally inspired and writes the genius “Romeo & Juliet” (it’s genius, even if you’re still sick of it from middle school), and Viola has to follow the queen’s and her father’s orders and marry Wessex. This oh this was also much worse than the movie. Wessex is a total shit in both, just a horrible awful man, but at least in the movie he looked like Colin Firth so you didn’t feel toooo badly for Viola. Here he’s just a normal so it’s real sad. Also, her father (whom I don’t think we see in the movie) is an even worse shit. So at least she gets away from him. The maid, the best part of the movie because it’s Imelda Stanton, is just okay here. She kind of milks her “It is a new day!” line to get laughs from the audience when really it should only be the set-up for Viola’s “It is a new world” reply, which is instead tossed aside.
Tom Bateman as Will works unbelievably hard, so hard that the sweat literally pours off of him throughout the show. His hair was soaking wet the entire time, even at stage door. I was like, “I don’t know how you are going to do a second show tonight” and he said “I don’t know either!” which is funny and self-deprecating but then he lit a cigarette and I was like, oh so you want to struggle to keep up, I get it.
So, anyway, no matter how you felt about the movie, this show is worth seeing. It’s not perfect, and like 99% of shows (/movies/television/books/anything), I wish I was able to edit it before it was considered set and finished, but alas, it has a few flaws. Luckily, these flaws won’t keep you from enjoying the show, and at least in the case of Viola’s uncharacteristically husky voice, some of them will help you enjoy it more. Okay now I’m done making fun.
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Noises Off: The Classic Farce is a West End Treat
It’s Theatre Thursday! Today’s show is Noises Off at London’s Garrick Theatre, playing until January 4.
During the mind-boggling ‘wrong’ choreography of Act II, I thought giddily to myself “Omg Noises Off is like the original Play that Goes Wrong! I’m going to use that for my title! I’m so clever!” Cut to me after the show, looking at the giant billboards and marquees outside the theatre, and seeing that they are actually using that as the tagline. Smdh.
Despite not being able to take credit for this clever connection, and despite being seemingly the only person in the world who didn’t learn about this show in high school, I wholeheartedly recommend a trip to the Garrick to see the fantastic comedic classic about a bad play that goes to absolute shit, because it is always a good idea to see this play. Noises Off, the 1982 British farce-within-a-farce by Michael Frayn, is hysterical, frenzied, ridiculous fun no matter how many times you’ve seen it, and this latest West End production, a transfer from the Lyric Hammersmith, is no exception.
The show focuses on a small theatre company the night before their first public performance of the fake (and seemingly terrible) play Nothing On – and then the early morning before that first performance – and how ill-prepared they are for the quickly approaching curtain. Everything goes wrong, all the actor-characters are complete disasters, and if I were in the audience of Nothing On I’d be demanding a refund, and it is all absolute silly ludicrous perfection. I love when the director character stands up from the audience for the first time and starts to reprimand his unnaturally sloppy cast, and you get that feeling that everything is going to be great, because everything is going to go wrong in the most outlandish and ludicrous ways, without ever being annoying.
This play is so well crafted that every time you think they’ve done all they can with one joke or storyline, they elevate it. Just when you think ‘okay, please not another joke about sardines,’ they use the endless plates of sardines in another ridiculous manner, or they add another abandoned plate, and it’s preposterous that it’s hilarious. And the perspective switch and time jump of Act II let the comedy unfold in an even more ridiculous manner that never fails to blow my mind. I honestly cannot wrap my head around how director Jeremy Herrin (actual director, not character-director of the play-within-the-play, that’s Lloyd Owen who’s great) (see how confusing it is already!) kept track of all the frenetic nonstop choreography of Act II, let alone how the actors do it. How do you communicate what needs to happen when what needs to happen needs to be wrong? My brain, it explodes.
And this cast does it all brilliantly. It’s a true ensemble piece where everyone gets a chance to shine, even Tim and Poppy with their hilarious final act front-of-house calls (I would LOVE for that to happen in real life) (I mean I would riot and it would be terrible but my god it would be so funny), and I love that with every new production, there’s a different standout performer, depending on the direction and how the ensemble gels. When I last saw the show, on Broadway, Megan Hilty’s Brooke was the standout, earning a much-deserved Tony nomination for a role that is usually just the ditzy blonde. She made it the funniest part of the whole g-d thing, along with, of course, Andrea Martin’s Dotty. Those two were so sublime, so much funnier than I honestly could have ever imagined their roles to be, that I don’t even recall the role of Garry. Whereas here, Brooke and Dotty were fine, and our Garry (Daniel Rigby) was the standout, making his inability to end a sentence solidly instead of trailing off with a ‘you know?’ the most comically brilliant acting I’ve enjoyed in a while. His every perfectly pitched ‘you know’ had us crying. Just as Garry is best with a British actor who really gets how to speak that silly role, I think this show, which is such a British show, is at its best with a British cast, and I never really knew that before seeing this, my first UK production. I mean even aside from all the talk about Inland Revenue. If you need to laugh at ridiculous antics that somehow never get to be irritating, go see this before it closes.
INFORMATION
We got the restricted view aisle seats of O23 and 22, because they are significantly cheaper than the rest of the stalls. The restriction comes in the form of a pillar, and it’s really not that bad. It’s actually not a true aisle, so you know – it’s against the wall, but there’s enough room to squeeze through around the seat in front (and in front of that is a wide open space). It’s a VERY poorly designed stalls section, with lots of weird empty spaces and a terrible rake. Also, this is a very poorly priced show. The rest of our row was empty so we moved down to the seats that were sold for twice as much if not more. These seats shouldn’t be empty for a weekend performance, but as we found when we were looking for tickets, the stalls are way overpriced, especially given how claustrophobic and dark they seem with the low circle overhang. Shame.
I definitely recommend sitting in the circle for the Garrick – it’s actually at street level (which is why the stalls below ground seems so dungeony), and it’s tiny, and the ladies room is right next to the door to the seats, so.
At our 7:30 curtain, Act I ended at 8:41. There’s a brief pause between Acts II & III, and the show ended at 9:40. Perfect length!
Questions I hope HEX answers before opening night
The brand new musical Hex is due to open tomorrow night at London’s National Theatre. Given its awesome-sounding premise — it’s a dark musical retelling of the Sleeping Beauty story starring the great Rosalie Craig as the fairy responsible for the curse — I was too excited to wait for opening night. Instead, I saw an early preview and. . .well. . .yeesh. Rather than parroting the fellow audience members we overheard as we left the theatre (“wow what an absolute mess”), I’m going to list some of the questions I hope the creatives can manage to answer before the show is frozen. If these questions can be answered in time, and the holes they address fixed, then there’s a chance this show can be saved. There is so much potential in that elevator pitch, but that potential has unfortunately been left to gather dust with Lorelai’s golf clubs.
Question 2. What was Fairy’s backstory?
This question gets to the big hole in the show. Fairy’s sad history is hinted at throughout — she’s the only fairy left; she has no wings; she was ‘left behind’ by all her brethren — but we never hear a ‘why’ for any of it. What happened to all the other fairies? Why is this weird schizophrenic* childish being the only fairy left in the land? Why is she so messed up? How did she get so messed up? Why can’t she think straight? Did she suffer trauma? Is she supposed to be special for surviving, or is it just dumb luck — or bad luck? How did she lose her wings? Answers to any of these questions would go far to help develop the character in interesting ways: why she’s so weird, why she’s alone, why her story deserves to be told. But we get zilch.
*not using offensively; she legitimately is portrayed as schizophrenic, displaying classic symptoms including but not limited to: hearing voices, having delusions and hallucinations, being unable to communicate effectively, having abnormal motor functioning, neglecting personal hygiene, having useless/excessive movement, exhibiting bizarre posture, &c. Which, actually, forces a Question 2b: Why is Fairy portrayed as schizophrenic???
Question 3. Why didn’t the queen sleep?
My crim law professor used to go through alleged facts and point out where something “didn’t pass the smell test”. I thought of that frequently during this show. Let’s start at the very beginning: The queen has a new baby who refuses to sleep. The entire castle’s staff is exhausted. So, the queen orders a lackey to go find a fairy to put the baby to sleep. Okay, so, if they had already gotten a doctor and the doctor couldn’t do anything – and couldn’t find anything wrong with the baby underlying the wakefulness – why not just have the staff rotate caring for the baby? I don’t buy that this self-absorbed (annoying, very panto) queen hadn’t slept. She surely would have go to bed in far away quarters each night and left her staff to watch the baby. (And also, if there’s nothing medically wrong, why turn to black magic? But that would undo the whole myth, so whatever.)
Question 4. What urged Fairy’s hex?
An interesting new aspect of this story is the notion that fairies are supposed to only ‘bless’ (give magical favors that the person being blessed actively wants), rather than ‘hex’ (put magic on a person that they don’t want). She found that the baby didn’t want to sleep, and as a result the fairy didn’t want to force the baby to sleep as that would be a hex. (Drink!) Fairy said the baby would sleep when she was tired, i.e. when she wanted to sleep. This wasn’t good enough for the royal family, and they ‘forced’ Fairy to hex the baby to sleep. The forcing made Fairy so. . . something, that she hexed the baby to sleep unendingly once she gets pricked by a thorn (until, of course, the true love’s kiss). But this huge pivotal moment of the story was rushed through so it was unclear why Fairy did such a hex. Yes she was being held captive and she was clearly stressed out, but what made her think of this specific, peculiar curse with all its random details? Why not hex the people who are actually assaulting her, capturing her? Why not put the baby to sleep then and there? Why do such a bizarre hex? Literally one line supporting her action, revealing anything about her mindset, would have been good. Her decision here is the entire foundation of this story, so it needed to be supported at least a little. I keep seeing Michael in The Good Place waving his hand and saying ‘don’t worry about it’ in response to questions.
Question 5. What happened to the staff?
The baby, Rose, grew up sheltered in an attempt to prevent her from ever being pricked by a thorn. But that day finally came when she was a teen, and she fell into her hexed sleep. Rose woke up after 100 years, ostensibly having long been alone in the castle. No one else was there. Did the existing staff really abandon this cursed princess? There was no plan put in place by previous royals to continue keeping watch over this child throughout her slumber, throughout the subsequent generations? I don’t buy that at all! That’s so irresponsible! Abolish the monarchy!
Question 6. Are the murderous thorns supposed to be funny?
The personified ‘thorns’ who pricked Rose to sleep then set about pricking every single prince who tries to enter the kingdom to lift the curse, sending them into long-term sleep as well. (Though it seems at first like straight up murder.) This whole segment is done like a creepier murdery-er version of the Oompa Loompa songs but it’s also clearly supposed to be funny. I found it so cringey. So much murderous energy. So much of an annoying song. So much time devoted to these giant murderous thorns who want to put everyone who crosses their path to sleep forever?? I hated it.
Question 7. How did Rose know wassup?
When Bert* wakes Rose up and they immediately seem to love each other, how did Rose — who has been asleep 100 years and before that lived a completely sheltered childhood to prevent the cursed (two syllables) thorn prick — seem totally in the know about love and sex and I don’t know IMMEDIATELY HAVING TWO BABIES?? She would be a total Nell ta ta, not a regular modern teen who is totally chill with becoming a teen mom with no support system.
*Question 7b. What kind of name for a prince is Bert?
Question 8. What’s going on with the music?
With each of the songs, I struggled to get a handle on what was happening. Instead of a cohesive single song (let alone cohesive score), each movement felt like different groups of small musical phrases smashed together, never coalescing into actual songs with melodies, or foundations, or points. It was a very strange chaotic experience, to think you grasp what a song sounds like and what it’s doing and then have it keep shifting away from you musically, in a lawless deranged way rather than a creative way. And there was so much of the modern pop vocalizing/shrieking/riffing instead of legitimate singing, a trend I truly despise. Of course Rosalie sounds wonderful but her talents are not given enough to work with.
Question 9. Why was the whole second act focusing on the ogre grandmother eating her grandchildren?
This was where every audience member I could see was imitating my favorite little blonde toddler girl gif, you know the one. The action shifted to focus entirely on the ogre queen wanting to eat her grandkids and being unable to control herself. Why, just so much why. Why didn’t Fairy tell Rose that the ogre was after her babies and would probably kill her too and urge her to GTFO RIGHT NOW? Instead Fairy killed some animals to trick the queen into believing she was eating the babies. Is Fairy that inept, that much a bumbling fool? It was insufferable. Why didn’t she just say RUN instead of cowering with the babies? It took a helluva lot more time to hunt down the goat and the rabbit and whatever it was (NOT great sound effects of slaughter btw, could definitely have done without that awful harrowing bullshit) than it would have to just shove the babies into the arms of their mother and shove them all out the door.
Question 10. Why don’t the book and score match up?
My biggest problem (okay they’re all the biggest) was that the book didn’t make sense on its own, and then the song lyrics didn’t match the book/action at all. It reminded me of the Broadway flop A Tale of Two Cities. In that show, this powerful supporting character spends the whole show wanting to get revenge for her brother, and then in Act II sings her big number, the main lyric of which was ‘out of sight, out of mind.’ Which had exactly zero to do with her character’s situation or the need for revenge for her brother. It was like, wtf?? That’s not what’s happening here, that’s not what you’ve been saying? I thought of that during this show.
Specific songs:
– Bert’s song was both indecipherable and also a heroic pomp-y song but in a creepy minor key. Why that key if it’s supposed to be a pump-up song? It didn’t fit to introduce the character.
– The opening song of Act II, with all the suitors singing about maybe one day finally being the one or one day it’ll be me or maybe this time or whatever, made no sense. These people also just woke up from decades being cursed asleep, and their first thought is about one day winning? getting the prize? (the princess? gross) and not about ‘oh my god where is my family, where is my home, do I not have a home anymore? how many years of my life did I miss?’ What do you mean one day it’ll be you, do you know you just woke up from like 80 years asleep? You just got a miracle second chance done on you and you’re complaining about the before times? Go see about your life, men! Make it make sense.
– The big climactic song about how everyone is different on the outside vs the inside was the greatest example of the aforementioned Tale of Two Cities illogicality. The lyrics do not reflect what had been told in the story. Rose says she’s smart on the outside? She has not lived at all and left two babies unattended for an ogre to catch! Bert says on the outside he’s seen as a hero? He hasn’t done shit heroically yet! No one thinks you’re a hero! Worst of all, the ogre who just thought she happily ate her grandbabies says that she is going to start being true to herself. BEING TRUE TO YOURSELF IS EATING BABIES! You need to work to NOT be true to yourself!!!
Question 11: Why is the promising Rose and Bert conflict treated like an afterthought?
The Rose and Bert conflict is infuriatingly done. He doesn’t believe what Rose says about his mother – that she’s an ogre and so on – and he NEVER DOES believe her, not until his mother reveals the truth herself. Yet afterward, Rose is the one to run after him to apologize, leaving her babies unattended. I mean I guess that’s all believable for an 18-year-old who just woke up but I don’t think it was presented in that way. It seemed actually presented as her needing to apologize to him, which is absolutely bonkers. And it all seemed secondary to Fairy trembling and wincing around the stage and also wanting to be friends with the ogre? When did the ogre become her best friend? See so many questions.
The most frustrating part of this show (okay it’s all the most frustrating part) is that in this climactic segment, instead of having a song about Rose and Bert’s conflict and giving some character depth and development through song as musicals are supposed to do, they give us a silly R&B song for the suitors that lifts right out. Another point in the panto column.
Question 11b: Why does Rose consider the suitors, who she never met until right now, her best friends? They have all been asleep and never met before.
I have more questions, like why is the humor geared to the lowest common denominator? why are there so many elements that evidence a favoring of panto over the musical art form? is this for kids or adults? but I’ve asked enough. With some work, it would be a decent show – it has so much promise in that premise. But it’s presented as though the creatives don’t believe in the premise and instead stuff the hours with low-grade jokes, unfinished sentences, and mere sketches of characters. Hex was unfortunately tonally confused and sloppy. I hope there is time to answer these questions before the show is set so that it can try to find its proper footing.
INFORMATION
Hex opens Wednesday December 15 at the National Theatre. At my performance, Act I ran from 7:20 to 8:38, Act II ended at 9:55. Hilariously, the placards outside the doors said the run time was 2 hours 34 minutes, a mind-boggling specificity that I will never understand the point of announcing.
