BEST COSTUME DESIGN OF A MUSICAL

1.  KINKY BOOTS
Gregg Barnes

2. RODGERS + HAMMERSTEIN’S CINDERELLA
William Ivey Long

3.  PIPPIN
Dominique Lemieux

4. MATILDA THE MUSICAL
Rob Howell

Matilda The Musical boasts costumes by Rob Howell (playing double duty as the set designer). While the majority of the costumes are subtly fine — the children’s gray school uniforms, Miss Honey’s floral dresses and cardigans — there are a couple of standouts. The Wormwoods are delightfully, and flamboyantly, tacky: He, in a green and black plaid suit and white fedora, she in fishnets and skin-tight dresses detailed  with ruffles, fringe and all other forms of garish accents. But the real gem is Miss Trunchbull in her brown military jacket and knee-high socks, with a gigantic bosom that sag to the cinched leather belt at her waist. Howell’s cheeky costumes are perfectly suited to the snarky British import, but they don’t have nearly as much flash as the other nominees.

Naturally, Pippin‘s costumes are a spin on the circus theme. Saucily building upon the basic leotards with armored bustiers, layers of shimmering fringe, bedazzled vests and top hats, each piece pops with color and humor. They’re also smartly streamlined for ease of acrobatic movement: Each iridescent piece clings to the performer as though painted on. Simultaneously eye-catching and efficient, first-time nominee Dominique Lemieux’s designs make for a possible spoiler.

Two shows revolve around footwear, though, so how could this award not, finally, come down to them? One of the biggest thrill of Kinky Boots comes from watching the men slip and fold their slim bodies into the skimpiest of costumer Gregg Barnes’s bedazzled outfits and thigh-high stiletto boots — no, excuse me, two feet of tubular sex. The catwalk finale is a stunner, featuring a candy-colored assortment of the titular heels that in typically outlandish drag queen fashion perfectly match over-the-top themed costumes (Union Jack, Scottish, Victorian, etc.). But the real trick is that Barnes faced the same challenge in creating his walking pieces of art as Charlie does in the musical: How do you make a stiletto heel that can support the weight of a male dancer and not break? Barnes did it, stunningly, and if past wins for cross-dressing musicals (La Cage, Priscilla) are any indication, the two-time Tony winner will take it home. Then again, he won last year for his gorgeous work for Follies, so voters will likely spread the wealth.

The factory workers in Kinky Boots declare that “the most beautiful thing in the world is a shoe” — and if Cinderella isn’t its sister show in that regard, no show is. In addition to that famed glass slipper, William Ivey Long’s lush, technicolor array of costumes rigged for magically quick transformations are stunning. Beautifully detailed in bright hues adorned with feathers, ruffled collars and layers of rustling petticoats, the dresses are every bit Disney princess — that swoon-worthy wedding gown with its satin folds and puffy sleeves — with a dash of winking humor (though I’m still not sure why Victoria Clarke dons what can only be described as icicled horns). As outrageously fun as Kinky Boots‘s designs are, Cinderella‘s are classically gorgeous and craftily hiding some magic up their sleeves to boot. This will likely be Cinderella‘s only win, and the sixth for William Ivey Long, who most recently won in 2007 for his ingenious work on Grey Gardens.

BEST SCENIC DESIGN OF A MUSICAL

1. MATILDA THE MUSICAL
Rob Howell

2. THE MYSTERY OF EDWIN DROOD
Anna Louizos

3. KINKY BOOTS
David Rockwell

4. PIPPIN
Scott Pask

Let’s be honest: All the designs here are superb. Pippin‘s is the simplest, featuring a classic circus tent with a few platforms and poles for the acrobatic performers to propel from and land on. In a production built upon all its “magic to do,” even the tent has a nice little vanishing trick at the show’s end. But designer Scott Pask already has five Tonys (the most recent for The Book of Mormon), and considering the strong competition, he isn’t like to garner a sixth this year.

David Rockwell’s multi-tiered Billy Elliot-inspired set for Kinky Boots handsomely allows for movement on multiple levels with a rolling unit that serves as Charlie’s office space among other locales. The Victorian-styled shoe factory is impressive with its brick walls showcasing iron-framed stained-glass windows, and when it’s time for the girls to get their boots on and strut their stuff in Milan, a catwalk takes over, surrounded by Kenneth Posner’s rainbow-colored LEDs. Rockwell was previously nominated for Hairspray, but in an interesting twist, his one other nomination is for this year’s Lucky Guy. So will he be a, um, lucky  guy this year? It’s highly unlikely, but if someone were to spoil here, I’d put my money on him.

For The Mystery of Edwin Drood, Anna Louizos smartly captures a London Music Hall circa the 19th century with brightly detailed painted flats framed in a gold proscenium that includes boxes for theatergoers. The design is perfectly period, warmly embracing the humor and gaudiness of the production. Nominated twice before (In the Heights, High Fidelity), Louizos has yet to garner her first Tony, but with Drood‘s closing back in March, it’s unlikely to hold much sway when voters have flashier, current production designs to choose from.

And perhaps no design this season is more showy than Rob Howell’s scrabble-tile explosion of a set that showcases the young heroine’s affinity for words. Alternating with shelves upon shelves of books and disappearing behind a imposing school gate for Crunchem Hall, the set for Matilda The Musical is at its most wondrous during the wildly imaginative staging of “School Song” when the older students warn the first-timers what they’re in for. Climbing the steel rungs of the gate to Crunchem Hall, they ingeniously insert lettered tiles into its rectangular gaps, emphasizing the consonants and vowels of the lyrics with each ominous vocal punch:

So you think you’re able / To survive this mess by being a Prince or a Princess / You will soon see (c) / There’s no escaping tragedy / And even / If you put in heaps of effort / You’re just wasting energy / ‘Cause your life as you know it is ancient (H-ent) history

It’s a marvelous grin-inducing moment. There is simply no show on Broadway this season that is as cleverly designed, and sixth-time-nominee Rob Howell will be rightly rewarded with his first  Tony.

BEST BOOK OF A MUSICAL

1. MATILDA THE MUSICAL
Dennis Kelly

2. KINKY BOOTS
Harvey FIerstein

3. RODGERS + HAMMERSTEIN’S CINDERELLA
Douglas Carter Beane

A CHRISTMAS STORY THE MUSICAL
Joseph Robinette

I suppose there’s a chance Joseph Robinette could take this home for A Christmas Story – I wouldn’t really know since I didn’t see the show — but I doubt it. Folks seemed to like it as an earnest bit of fun holiday fare, not because there was anything particularly remarkable about it.

That leaves three. And you know the competition is slim when two of the remaining nominees boast books that were overwhelmingly criticized as the weakest links in their respective shows.

Cinderella marks playwright Douglas Carter Beane’s fourth nomination, no wins, and if he keeps overstuffing his shows with irrelevant jokes, he’s not going to win one anytime soon. He’s amped up Oscar Hammerstein II’s book for Cinderella with his signature hammy style, and the result is a lot of (mostly cheap) laughs, but also a musical that’s tone is as bumpy as as a pumpkin-coach ride at midnight. Snark isn’t part of Rodgers and Hammerstein’s vocabulary, of course, so the musical duo’s sincere and gorgeously retro score is at odds with Beane’s contemporary gags. He’s a funny guy, but he’s trying too hard, which means a lot of forced jokes and redundant plotting. We have two balls, when we need just one, and there’s an entirely superfluous politically progressive subplot (something generic about government stealing from the poor, etc. etc.) that’s unrelenting. It’s not that injecting politics into R&H is unheard of, it’s that it simply doesn’t work in this incarnation. He has absolutely no shot at this award.

Harvey Fierstein fares a bit better, but not much. Kinky Boots is predictable and riddled with clichés, though it’s largely faithful to the 2005 film it’s based on. The real problem is not that the setup is sugar-sweet, but that there’s absolutely no conflict except when Fierstein bafflingly creates one out of thin air, muddling up Charlie’s (Stark Sands) character mid-act II, when suddenly he’s a bigoted asshole for no real reason (but only for about the length of a song, whew!). There’s also that incessant father-son issue that rears its ugly, unnecessary head every so often, as well as a love triangle between Charlie, his shallow fiancé and the factory worker (Annaleigh Ashford) he tries to fire, but ends up falling for instead. It’s kind of a mess, but you don’t really notice because of all the fabulous drag queens parading on and off stage in six-inch heels.

And so that leaves us with Matilda. Bookwriter Dennis Kelly remains faithful to Roald Dahl’s  original, perfectly capturing the author’s dark, adult-like tone while cheekily adapting many of the book’s most memorably sadistic moments: little Bruce is forced to eat an entire chocolate cake; a little girl is swung ’round and ’round by her pigtails into the orchestra. There are problems, though: Matilda is largely introverted, and her big moment of self-realization doesn’t come until the show’s nearly over. There’s also a narrative-within-a-narrative that isn’t necessary. But the cast of characters is so vividly and gleefully drawn, and the source material so rich, that all the flaws just seem nitpicky — especially when compared to those of Matilda‘s competitors here. Expect first-time nominee Kelly to  be a first-time winner.

BEST PERFORMANCE BY AN ACTOR IN A LEADING ROLE IN A MUSICAL

1. Billy Porter
KINKY BOOTS

2. Bertie Carvel
MATILDA THE MUSICAL

3. Santino Fontana
RODGERS + HAMMERSTEIN’S CINDERELLA

4. Rob McClure
CHAPLIN

5. Stark Sands
KINKY BOOTS

I must confess that I love each and every one of these men and their respective performances, and I honestly don’t think the committee could’ve chosen better. In fact, they pleasantly surprised me by nominating Stark, when I predicted Annie‘s Anthony Warlow.

Though Stark Sands is adorable and well-cast in Kinky Boots, Harvey Fierstein’s muddled book does Sands’s vanilla character no favors: Charlie Price, warm-hearted and accepting from the start, has absolutely no conflict to overcome, no character arc to make. The endearing Sands (previously nominated in 2007 for Journey’s End) does what he can, rigorously working to portray an inherently not-that-interesting role, but through no real fault of his own, he seems a bit dull when placed alongside such dynamic personalities as Billy Porter’s Lola.

Chaplin‘s leading man, on the other hand, immediately proved himself a bright, shining star despite the hindrances of a messy book and banal score. Perfectly embodying the little tramp, both physically and emotionally, Rob McClure received near universal raves, and if it wasn’t such a fantastic year for male performances — and regardless of the fact that the show closed back in January — this award would be his.

But Santino Fontana would’ve given McClure a run for his money. In Cinderella, Fontana’s Prince Topher best strikes the balance between Douglas Carter Beane’s too-jokey book and R & H’s earnest score: an effortlessly funny actor who can float Oscar Wilde witticisms before sharply landing the social satire (and who I — still — cannot stop laughing at here), Fontana gently shapes a prince who is both goofily clueless and sincerely well-intentioned. His comic timing is impeccable, downplaying the jokiness while emphasizing the character, and his beautiful baritone delivery of R & H sincerity is absolutely lovely. It is no exaggeration to say that Fontana is cut from the same cloth as the impeccable Norbert Leo Butz : nearly universally well-received in every role he takes on, he shines in classics, musicals, comedies and dramas alike. He’s an absolute gem of a performer.

But no straight man could hope to compete with first-time nominee Billy Porter‘s flashy and fabulous drag queen in Kinky Boots. Porter was born to play Lola, plain and simple. It’s not that he hasn’t portrayed similar roles before — Belize in Angels in America, even a King Lear in drag (he was fabulous, by the way) — but those were just stepping stones to this. As Lola, he’s electrifying, with enough verve and sass to strut it, and shut it down over and over again — and in scarily high heels, no less. His delivery is all seductive swagger, and even when Fierstein’s jokes aren’t all that clever, Porter lands them, pricelessly, with a snarl and a snap. But don’t be fooled by the fierceness: Underneath the diva, when the wig is off and a suit is donned, the shy and wounded Simon, disowned by his father, is revealed, and Porter switches fully and sensitively between the two. Add to this his versatile, husky vocals and you have a stunning Tony Award-winning performance.

Except, maybe not. The Tony Awards Administration Committee deemed Bertie Carvel’s performance as Miss Trunchbull in Matilda The Musical as leading (which the show’s producers, of course, pushed for), thus forcing the two best male performances in musicals this year to compete against each other when they needn’t, and shouldn’t. Regardless, Roald Dahl would revel in Carvel’s twisted performance: played in the English pantomime style, the horrid headmistress is a towering, linebacker of a woman with a gigantic bosom that sags to her cinched waist. One would imagine such an imposing figure to lurch heavily about the stage, but no: Carvel performs her as though on twinkle toes (he even marvelously and delicately plays the ribbons), floating threateningly from child to child. When angered, which is all the time, her right hand raises to her chest, folded at the wrist and quivering, like the truncated arm of a T-Rex. Carvel’s physicality is perfection, and his voice, not exactly high-pitched, but womanly, betrays the insecurity behind the sadistic narcissism.

Bertie Carvel’s virtuosic performance has already won the actor an Olivier, but will it garner him a Tony as well? That’s the big question. Porter’s Lola is a fully rounded character with a clear and heartwarming arc, who is on stage 90% of the show, while Carvel’s Trunchbull is the villainous foil to a little leading lady, the latter of which is the one on stage 90% of the show (and yet the committee deemed her ineligible for nomination — but I digress). If that doesn’t sound like a lead performance vs. a supporting performance, I don’t know what does. Couple that with the facts that the ecstatically reviewed Matilda now suffers from a growing number of dissenters and that Americans are revealing themselves as suspicious of (very good) British musicals, and the edge goes to Porter.

Billy and Bertie, you both deserve awards, I say. Perhaps you can tie? I mean, it happened at the Oscars.

BEST ORIGINAL SCORE

1. MATILDA THE MUSICAL
Music & Lyrics: Tim Minchin

2. A CHRISTMAS STORY THE MUSICAL
Music & Lyrics: Benj Pasek & Justin Paul

3. KINKY BOOTS
Music & Lyrics: Cyndi Lauper

4. HANDS ON A HARDBODY
Music: Trey Anastasio and Amanda Green; Lyrics: Amanda Green

Missing: Bring It On: The Musical, music by Tom Kitt & Lin-Manuel Miranda and lyrics by Amanda Green and Lin-Manuel Miranda

Though first-time musical composer Cyndi Lauper’s effort for Kinky Boots is more akin to a string of high-spirited dance songs and rather generic pop ballads — with the exception of the stellar, hilarious standout “The History of Wrong Guys” — than an integrated score, it is still more effective than that of Hands on a Hardbody.

With more embarrassing clichés than you can shake a stick at, Hands on a Hardbody, based on the 1997 documentary film about ten hard-luck Texans attempting to win a truck by keeping their hands on it the longest, quite rightly didn’t receive a nomination for Best Musical. While Phish-frontman Trey Anastasio crafted a nicely earnest country-rock-with-a-tinge-of-gospel score in what was by far the show’s best asset, Amanda Green’s hackneyed lyrics brought the whole enterprise down. Way down. The best example is a musical lament about how chain stores and restaurants have taken over the country, erasing any sense of community. The lyrics literally consist of a list of those chains — “Walmart’s, Walgreens, Wendy’s, Applebees, Starbucks, Stuckey’s, Best Buy” — repeated ad nauseam. My co-worker  tortured me for days afterwards by singing that list over and over again. The fact that this show wasn’t panned based on that song alone baffles me. Sorry, Trey, but Amanda has ruined your shot at a Tony this time around.

If “Used to Be” epitomizes why Hands on a Hardbody has no shot at this award, the sweet-sad gem “When I Grow Up”  embodies all the reasons why Matilda The Musical will take it home. Matilda opens with a winking take on the über-doting, overly-proud parents whose kids aggressively gush, “My mummy says I’m a miracle / One look at my face, and it’s plain to see /Ever since the day doc chopped the umbilical cord /It’s been clear there’s no peer for a miracle like me!” From there, Minchin’s lyrics expand and contract, with wordy witticisms piled high, one on top of another. The comedian-musician doesn’t pull any punches with his tongue-tying lyrics that are cleverly matched with jaunty, catchy tunes sporting dark Dahlian undercurrents. Of course, there are those who complain Minchin overstuffs his lyrics, making comprehension difficult, but this is far and away the most inventive and cheeky score of the season — if not the past few seasons. While the growing backlash to the British import may damage Matilda‘s chances in other categories, she’s no underdog here.

But if Matilda‘s musical naughtiness is too snarky and British for voters, they’ll likely look to A Christmas Story for a more traditionally appealing pop score. Benj Pasek and Justin Paul (the team behind last summer’s Off-Broadway Dogfight) provide a bright and buoyant, and very likable, score that nicely adapts all major plot points of the holiday classic film into suitable musical moments. (There is, indeed, a song titled “You’ll Shoot Your Eye Out.”) I didn’t see the show out of a severe dislike for the film, but listening to the recording is rather delightful (if somewhat generic) — though perhaps for the wrong reason. The score unabashedly embraces sentiment rather than the original material’s overabundance of snark, resulting in a folksy charm that won over nearly all critics — both fans and detractors of the film alike. If A Christmas Story nabs the Tony, it’s more of a victory for tradition and nostalgia, rather than skillful innovation.

“Miracle.” Photo by Joan Marcus/Boneau/Bryan-Brown/AP.

The Roald Dahl classic becomes a classic musical

If you want to see something wrong, you will. Matilda the Musical opened only on Thursday, yet some backlash to its musical magic is already bubbling beneath the surface, threatening to spill over: Tim Minchin packs so much into his lyrics that Sheryl Sandberg’s call to “lean in” must be taken literally here, otherwise you won’t understand a damned word those mischievous munchkins — with their thick English accents, no less — are saying. This show, about a girl, is for girls only! (True story.) It could simply be “too British” for American audiences. The title character — and every character, really, except for the too-sweet teacher — is unlikable. It lacks warmth, and is cold to the touch. Those last two points are particularly irksome: Where is this musical theatre rule book that insists all musicals be jolly and feel-good and likable? And who says Matilda isn’t all those things, if not all the time?

When we were making it, we became aware that there were lots of rules for writing musicals and that we should probably listen to them. But we just thought, “No, we’re not going to.” — Dennis Kelly

Leave it to the Brits (and one whacky Australian) — a less insistently warm bunch —  to disregard such “rules” if there are any, and to break free of their massive musical theatre losing streak. (Does anyone remember Beautiful & Damned? Because I sure do. Jesus.)  Bookwriter Dennis Kelly remains faithful to Roald Dahl’s last book (1988), and by all accounts, Dahl was an exceedingly unpleasant man (one might even go so far as to call him a “hateful little fuck”) who happened to write exceedingly enjoyable, dark, adult-like children’s books. I read and adored them; you probably did, too. Matilda was my favorite.

The stories are brilliant and the imagination is fabulous. Unfortunately, there is, in all of them, an underlying streak of cruelty and macabre unpleasantness, and a curiously adolescent emphasis on sex. — Noël Coward

Matilda Wormwood is precocious little girl. Unwanted and  belittled by her dimwitted parents — her father insists on calling her a boy and harps on her “stupidity” for preferring reading to watching the telly — and her hostile headmistress, she immerses herself in her books. Reclusive, but with a vivid and ever-growing imagination and sharp mind, Matilda dreams of a better life for herself, daring to take a stand against these oppressive forces and to grasp her destiny in her own, tiny hands.

How can any little girl or boy not love/relate to/root for her?

“When I Grow Up.” Photo by Joan Marcus/Boneau/Bryan-Brown/AP.

But it’s not just the story that draws you in. Rob Howell’s scrabble-tile explosion of a set, playfully and colorfully lit by Hugh Vanstone, is what one imagines is the visual equivalent of Dahl’s uncontained creative genius spewing forth onto the stage of the Shubert Theatre. From there, it only gets more devilish. Directed with an almost ADD-like enthusiasm by Mathew Warchus — the show’s creative team is nearly a carbon copy of Ghost: The Musical‘s, but don’t hold that against it (their scenic and lighting designs could elevate any material) — Matilda opens with a winking take on the über-doting, overly-proud parents whose kids aggressively gush, “My mummy says I’m a miracle / One look at my face, and it’s plain to see /Ever since the day doc chopped the umbilical cord /It’s been clear there’s no peer for a miracle like me!” Minchin’s lyrics expand and contract, with wordy witticisms piled high, one on top of another. The comedian-musician doesn’t pull any punches, and the jaunty, catchiness of the music is matched only by Peter Darling’s spiky, staccato movement. If a child’s temper-tantrum was choreographed, this is what it would look like, all stomping feet and sharply-swinging arms. (Some will claim it’s a riff on Bill T. Jones’s Spring Awakening, but it’s closer to the thrusting frustration of Steven Hoggett’s American Idiot.)

Warchus transforms the stage — and much of the auditorium — into a playground of which an amazing group of kid-actors reigns. In one deliciously savage moment that is entirely loyal to Dahl, the Trunchbull, who ferociously detests pigtails on little girls, grabs hold of an offending pair. Taking the girl to the air, she swings her ’round and ’round by the hair, while the girl’s classmates rush into the auditorium, frantically trying to predict where the poor thing will land. Sure enough, the dirty little worm falls from the rafters (directly in front of my seat, no less) to the delighted gasps of the audience. Warchus gets the sadistic essence of Dahl, and Dahl would certainly, gleefully, be on board.

Bertie Carvell as Miss Trunchbull. Photo by Joan Marcus/Boneau/Bryan-Brown/AP.

But above all, Dahl would most revel in this Matilda‘s version of Miss Trunchbull. Played by Bertie Carvel in the English pantomime style (Carvel’s a man, by the way), the horrid headmistress is a towering, linebacker of a woman, with a grey bun wrapped so tightly atop her head as to pinch her face, and shoulders so broad, she could be nothing other than an Olympic hammer thrower. Dressed ingeniously (costumes also by Rob Howell) in a brown military jacket and knee-high socks, the Trunchbull boasts gigantic boobs that sag to her cinched waist. One would imagine such an imposing figure to lurch heavily about the stage, but no: Carvel performs her as though on twinkle toes (he even marvelously and delicately plays the ribbons), floating threateningly from child to child. When angered, which is all the time, her right hand raises to her chest, folded at the wrist, like the truncated arm of a T-Rex, quivering. Carvel’s physicality is perfection, and his voice, not exactly high-pitched, but womanly, betrays the insecurity behind the sadistic narcissism. The virtuosic performance has already won the actor (who’s played Leo Frank, also brilliantly, in Parade) an Olivier; it’s sure to garner him a Tony as well.

And let us not forget our diminutive heroine. Four little girls play the title character, rotating performances, but if you were at the same one as me, you had the pleasure of seeing two of the young charmers. The brunette Bailey Ryon began the show, with wide eyes and lots of pint-sized spunk, declaring that Jack & Jill never stood a chance and Romeo & Juliet were just a touch stupid, so why didn’t they just change their story? (It’s hard not to agree.) “Sometimes,” she matter-of-factly states, “you have to be a little bit naughty.” Perhaps it was her full commitment to that naughtiness, but during a quick-change, mid-act II, Ryon fell and suffered a slight injury, prompting the stoic and sweet-voiced Milly Shapiro to finish the show with her old-soul-worldliness and gravity. (Ryon was ultimately fine, and joined Shapiro for the curtain call.) The immersive role demands much of these young women, and by all accounts, all four seem more than capable of carrying the show on their small, but sturdy shoulders.

Four Matildas. From l. to r.: Bailey Ryon, Milly Shapiro, Sophia Gennusa, and Oona Laurence. Photo by Joan Marcus/Boneau/Bryan-Brown/AP.

I could go on and on about the multitude of fantastic performances (Gabriel Ebert’s vaudevillian elasticity as Mr. Wormwood, for example, is put to especially fine and hilarious use in the second-act opener, an homage to the wide-ranging benefits of “The Telly”), the alternating witty and touching songs (“When I Grow Up” is a sad-sweet gem), the inventive staging (the building-block blocking of “School Song”) and invigorating movement. But if you, like me, were the quiet but bright child who kept to herself, holed up in her room with a pile of books she voraciously tore through, you will see yourself, uncannily and fondly, in Matilda. You’ll root for her, that telekinetic miniature Carrie, as she struggles to find the strength to stand up to the bullies and overcome the obstacles. And you’ll delight in rediscovering the magic of a musical theatre that is vibrant and imaginative and fresh, and that is equally pleasurable for the eye, the ear and the heart. Take a child if you can, but at the very least, take yourself. You will not have a better time on Broadway this season than at Matilda the Musical.

Matilda the Musical
Sam S. Shubert Theatre
225 West 44th Street
New York, NY 10036
Open-ended

The set design was whimsical and creative, my only complaint was the production was a bit too busy. I wish they spared us the use of confetti and lasers as it felt gimmicky. The lighting had moments of brilliance and the costumes were solid. The cast was good but as a whole I felt they were trying too hard. I’ll say it again, as the show progressed I really didn’t care what happened to any of the characters, the connection was not there.

Is Matilda good? Yes. Is it great? No. I think the piece would have been better served on a smaller canvas; more intimate with a focus on the characters.

And so, without further ado, here are twelve shows I’m super-pumped about:

We’re All Gonna Die

1. We’re Gonna Die: Because Young Jean Lee, the Korean-American playwright hailed by the Times as “one of the most adventurous new playwrights to emerge on the New York scene in the last decade,” doesn’t simply push boundaries — she cleverly dismantles, examines, ravages and then reconstructs them in a way you couldn’t even anticipate. Because this sold-out limited engagement at Lincoln Center, in true YJL fashion, is unlike any of her previous works: a life-affirming cabaret about what everyone has in common… Because we’re all gonna die.

2. Through the Yellow Hour: Because even though Adam Rapp’s Albee-esque upper-class takedown Dreams of Flying Dreams of Falling disappointed last season at CSC, the prolific playwright appears to be returning to his darker, dystopian roots at Rattlestick Playwrights Theater. And because it’s just not an Adam Rapp play if someone isn’t naked/mutilated/hiding in a damp, dark basement — and because, frankly, that’s what we love about him. (Though we wouldn’t necessarily mind it if he let someone else direct his work.)

3. Dead Accounts: Because even though we don’t really care about  the newest indistinguishable comedy from Theresa Rebeck (am I right?) — though surely that Tony snub last year for Seminar stung something fierce — we do care about the obscenely charming Norbert Leo Butz who’s never less than impeccable no matter what dreck he manages to keep running for far longer than it ever should. And because even though she’s the ex-Mrs. Tom Cruise, we’ll always have a soft spot for the girl from the Creek — even if, as in her stage debut in the 2008 Broadway revival of All My Sons, she screams through all her lines… Because no one’s too good for a vocal coach.

4. Glengarry Glen Ross / The Anarchist: Because one David Mamet show per season just isn’t enough. Because how do you choose between Al Pacino (now playing the Jack Lemon role) and Bobby Cannavale (playing the Al Pacino role) as sparring real estate agents and Patti LuPone (!) and Debra Winger (in her Broadway debut!) as warden and prisoner. Because director Daniel Sullivan (Good People, Twelfth Night) is going to kill it with the Pulitzer Prize- winning play; and because newly-minted über-conservative playwright-director Mamet is going to kill it in a whole other way with the Weather Underground-like radical group play. And because Mamet writes women real good.

5. Giant: Because even with potentially static direction by Michael Greif (Next to Normal, Angels in America), a musical adaptation of Pulitzer Prize-winning Edna Ferber’s 1952 novel — adapted into the Oscar-winning 1956 film starring Elizabeth Taylor, James Dean, Rock Hudson and Dennis Hopper — seems like a grand, strange and wonderful idea. Because we can’t wait to see how composer-lyricist Michael John LaChiusa, known for his offbeat and discordant works like The Wild Party and Queen of the Mist, interprets the sprawling, epic story about greed, bigotry and, well, cattlemen. And because as this co-production between The Public Theater and the Dallas Theater Center suggests, everything’s bigger — and better? — in Texas.

Rebecca

6. Rebecca: Because it’s been delayed almost as many times as Spider-Man. Because even though it’s the poor man’s Jane Eyre, it’s still an infinitely better idea than any musicalization of Pride & Prejudice. Because even though the “exclusive song” on the website sounds more like Martin Guerre (shudder) than Les Mis (guilty, gleeful pleasure), Daphne Du Maurier’s Rebecca is a classic Gothic romance that begs to be sung. And because, with a score by Hungarian composer Sylvester Levay, Germans think it’s the next best thing since David Hasselhoff ditched his swim trunks, discovered his vocal chords and took their country by pop-music storm.

7. Passion: Because Classic Stage Company’s production is the first fully mounted revival of the rarely performed Sondheim period piece. Because, based on the Italian flick, Passione d’amore, it’s essentially the story of not-so-attractive woman who obsessively loves (aka stalks) a soldier. Because though you can’t really do better than Donna Murphy and Marin Mazzie, you can do pretty damn well with Judy Kuhn and Melissa Errico. And because John Doyle is directing, and because I really, really hope he’s gonna make Judy Kuhn play a tuba.

8. Scandalous: The Life and Trials of Aimee Semple McPherson: Because its books and lyrics are by KATHIE LEE GIFFORD. And because it’s about a real-life superstar evangelist in the ’20s played by Carolee Carmello (Parade!). But, really, really, because its book and lyrics are by KATHIE LEE GIFFORD. Because, believe it or not, this ain’t her first musical, folks.

Matilda

9. Matilda: Because Matilda is essentially a family-friendly version of Carrie. Because every little girl who’s now of a certain age (ahem) voraciously tore through the Roald Dahl collection — The Witches, Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory — and this tale of the tiny outcast with the astonishing wit and the psychokinetic powers was always the favorite, striking a familial yet fantastic chord. Because a crazy-looking Australian comedian-writer-performer composed the score. Because the Brits loved it. Because, when you think about it, why hasn’t a Roald Dahl novel been adapted into a stage musical before now?

10. The Flick: Because Annie Baker has a quiet charm and an impeccable ear for natural dialogue that is unmatched in theatre today. Because it sounds just like The Aliens, but set in a desolate movie theater as opposed to a desolate back patio of a coffee shop. Because we really like The Aliens.

11. Water by the Spoonful: Because Quiara Alegría Hudes is the first Latina to win the Pulitzer Prize for Drama (and who also wrote the book for the Tony Award-winning In the Heights). Because she writes about Iraq without writing about Iraq. Because her musical training creates a rhythm and language that is haunting and lyrical, because her characters are damaged and real and wonderful, and because hers is an original female voice in the American theatre.

12. The Last Five Years: Because though it’s no Parade (ahem), this semi-autobiographical musical two-hander about the rise and demise of twenty-something couple’s five-year relationship packs one helluva emotional punch and some fantastically crafted songs. Because I haven’t seen the show since its world premiere at Chicago’s Northlight Theatre eleven years ago. Because I not-so-secretly wish this could be a middle-aged cast revival so that Norbert Leo Butz could reprise the role of the self-obsessed novelist Jamie. Because it’ll be interesting to see, as directed by the writer, if the show really is biased toward Jamie… or if Norbert was just that good.

Did you see his school report? He got a C on his report!
WHAT?!?
We’ll have to change his school, the teacher’s clearly falling short…

The song “My mummy says I’m a miracle” brilliantly depicts insufferable parents and their (ahem) talented children. I am now joining those insufferable ranks. Forgive me while I sing the praises of my eldest daughter, Hannah.

Hannah is bright. She reads voraciously and sometimes it’s difficult to get a word in when she’s excited about something: partly because her imagination takes her off on tangents of tangents of tangents, and she struggles to remember what she started off talking about, partly because her brain evidently works faster than her mouth and she struggles to actually get the words out quick enough, partly because it’s just fun to listen to her.

But she has also been quite shy, often a perfectionist who collapses if she makes even a tiny mistake, she gets embarrassed when asked to ‘perform’ in public. She’s young in her school year (June birthday), and is quite happy in her own company, her imagination running riot, much to her own amusement…

This year (she’s 10 at the end of June) she has matured in a way that has made me very proud. Last year there was a Youth Theatre Musical performed in Tetbury. Most of the leading parts were taken by teenagers, but the chorus included Hannah and some of her classmates. She was adamant that she didn’t want a speaking part, she wanted to be in the background. It was quite a big surprise, therefore, when she announced this year that she wanted to audition for a more important part.

Smike is a musical written originally in the 1970s for the children at Kingston Grammar School, loosely based on the Charles Dickens story of Nicholas Nickleby. Hannah took the part of Smike, which certainly isn’t the largest part, but has plenty of lines, acting and three solo songs. She committed herself to rehearsals, and with seemingly only a small amount of active support from us, she was fantastic. We kept asking if she was happy with her lines, did she need to practise the songs, and she declared everything was alright. And indeed it was.

The part of Smike is a pretty sad one. An orphan who gets horribly beaten and abused at school, who spends most of the play alone. It wasn’t a very easy watch for me.

Thanks to John Rees for this great picture

As is increasingly common for me, it got pretty dusty in the hall when Hannah was singing, or being beaten up, or sat huddled in a corner of the stage which suddenly seemed huge and dangerous compared to her vulnerable smallness. She wasn’t perfect by any means, but this was her first time on stage in front of nearly 100 people. Her words were clear, her acting was decent, we believed in Smike. And we all cheered her at the end.

Alongside the fairly intensive rehearsals for this show, Hannah has also been preparing for her Grade I piano exam. Again, she’s not exactly Wolfgang Amadeus, but in the last few months her confidence and commitment at playing the piano has made a step-change. It feels like she’s realised she can play her pieces well, she’s started to work out and play song tunes by ear, and she actually practises her scales. She’s just received the results from her exam, passing with a strong Merit at 127/150. When she called me at work to tell me, all I got was shrieking and whooping down the phone.

What’s more, at the local Minchinhampton Music Festival recently there was a children’s day, when kids of all ages and all abilities on any instruments could play as part of a competition. Hannah actively wanted to play, despite having been reluctant to even play in front of me just a few months ago. Again in front of more than 50 people she played her pieces and did it pretty well.

My little girl is growing up. It is my privilege to be able to watch and guide her, and bask in her reflected glory as she does. She is a miracle.

We were, however, long-time fans of Tim Minchin and it was the promise of clever lyrics and catchy tunes that drew us to the show.

The Cambridge is not a big theatre and our seats, in the dress circle, gave us a good view of the stage which looked almost worryingly plain as we took our seats. The ingenious use of the space, with props rising out of the floor and being moved swiftly in and out of the set, kept us engrossed in the story and gave it almost a cartoon-like quality, reminding me of Quentin Blake’s illustrations.

From the first song, “Miracle”, Tim Minchin’s musicianship was evident. Each song has a quirky twist and we’ve been humming “When I grow up” and “Revolting children” for days since. And those revolting children were incredible. Any concerns that it might be a musical for children quickly disappeared – this is a show where the performances of the children often outshine the adults. And not in a ‘cute’ way. The cast of children are incredible singers, actors and dancers and I often felt that when adults dressed as children appeared, older children would have been more effective.

That’s not to say that the adults weren’t good – all gave excellent performances, particularly Bertie Carvel as Miss Trunchbull, who has one of the best moments in the show, combining superb acting with brilliant stage effects. I won’t give anything away but I cried with laughter at that point.

The weaving of Matilda’s storytelling about the acrobat and the escapologist with her experiences at school and home keeps a good balance between comedy and drama. Eleanor Worthington Cox made an excellent Matilda, both thoughtful and sparky and gave an outstanding performance.

The songs, of course, are integral to the success of the show and as usual Tim Minchin’s lyrics are a mix of eye-wateringly funny and heartbreaking – who else could write “We’ll find out where the chalk is stored and draw rude pictures on the board” and I challenge any adult not to have a pang for their childhood innocence at the lyrics to “When I grow up”.

The audience rewarded the cast with a standing ovation that was thoroughly deserved. This was without doubt the best show that I have seen – inventive, brilliantly delivered and a wonderful celebration of being a kid.

I can’t recommend it highly enough!

Carrie (Stephen King, 1974) 

• Quiet, intelligent, bookish child protagonist (female)
• Abusive parental relationship
• Taken under wing by sympathetic female teacher
• Develops telekinesis
• Uses new-found ability to exact revenge on her abusers
• Subsequently filmed, and then adapted into a stage musical by the RSC

Matilda (Roald Dahl, 1988) 

• Quiet, intelligent, bookish child protagonist (female)
• Abusive parental relationship
• Taken under wing by sympathetic female teacher
• Develops telekinesis
• Uses new-found ability to exact revenge on her abusers
• Subsequently filmed, and then adapted into a stage musical by the RSC

 Um….

We went to see it again last weekend, and if anything I enjoyed it even more. The breathtaking surprise and excitement was of course slightly changed, but the exhiliration, joy and range of emotional reactions were (if anything) even more intense. We bought the soundtrack CD, and have listened to it pretty much every day since. Even my favourite podcasts have taken second place.

It seems that my reactions to Tim Minchin’s amazing songs, combined with the memories of the performance, are unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. More than any film, this show triggers emotional responses in me: I laugh at Bertie Carvel’s astonishing Miss Trunchbull, I weep on cue to the opening bars of “When I Grow Up”, I try desperately to keep up with the wordplay in “The School Song” and “The Smell of Rebellion”. This reaction (I’d go again next week if I could) has been threatening to take over. I sing the songs out loud / under my breath at work.

Right now I can’t imagine not seeing it again, and it made me think last night that I would need to rewrite my entire selection for my Desert Island Discs… But I managed to extract myself from that thorny problem. Of course, I would make Matilda my luxury; a filmed version of the live performance with the original cast. This would make my life on the island much more bearable, as it would remind me of two of the best experiences I have had with my family, of the joy and innocence and wonder and naughtiness of being a child, of the importance of nurturing and inspiring children, and of the excitement and joy I share with my children as we all sing along to and re-enact the whole drama…

I’d love to post the whole show here, but as I’m urging you to see it, I am torn in not wanting to reveal spoilers, jokes and surprises. The opening song “Miracle” satirises the attitudes of many parents towards their own ‘miracle’ children, while at the same time wholly celebrating the wondrous miracle that life and children represent. And it throws us headlong into the intricate and brilliant wordplay of Tim Minchin and Roald Dahl, which keeps coming back, and is a constant source of pleasure throughout the show…

One can hardly move for beauty and brilliance these days,
It seems that there are millions of these one-in-a-millions these days.
“Specialness” seems de rigeur,
Above-average is average, go figeur.
Is it some modern miracle of calculus that such frequent miracles
don’t render each one unmiraculous?

Matilda’s first song is at once heart-rending and joyous. Despite the (mostly comic) horrors of her family life, she is defiant and positive…

We’re told we have to do what we’re told, but surely sometimes you have to be a little bit naughty…

And then we meet The Trunchbull, English Hammer-throwing Champion (1969).

If you want to throw the hammer for your country you have to stay inside the circle all the time.
And if you want to make the team, you don’t need happiness or self-esteem,
You just need to keep your feet inside the line.

Matilda’s parents are brilliantly realised by Josie Walker and Paul Kaye, who both get their own showpiece songs. Mrs Wormwood rebuffs the timid Miss Honey’s earnest intentions about Matilda’s academic talents…

What you know matters less than the volume with which what you don’t know’s expressed.
Content has never been less important, so you have got to be
LOUD …
…it really doesn’t matter if you don’t know nowt, as long as you don’t know it with a bit of clout.

…while Mr Wormwood, in a terrific ‘interval announcement’, celebrates his much-loved “Telly” and rejects Matilda’s books…

Jane Austen, in the compostin’!

The heart of the musical for me is the start of the second half, with the beautiful “When I Grow Up”, whose simple melodies and gorgeous words are complemented by the children swinging across the stage and over the audience.

When I grow up I will eat sweets every day on the way to work and I will go to bed late every night.
And I will wake up when the sun comes up and I will watch cartoons until my eyes go square
And I won’t care ‘cos I’ll be all grown up.

...I will be strong enough to carry all the heavy things you have to haul around with you when you're a grown-up...

I’ll avoid most of the rest of the second half, as the action and surprises are too important to give away. But as it all builds towards a triumphant ending, the oppressed children revolt against The Trunchbull in a riotous finale…

We’ll find out where the chalk is stored and draw rude pictures on the board!
It’s not insulting, we’re revolting!

I’ll try not to keep going on about how fabulous this show is. But I can scarcely remember having such a reaction to anything in a long, long time.