Despite
its subtitle, THE CHOCOLATE SHOW: A TASTY NEW MUSICAL, directed by Dan Foster, is more a revue than
a book musical, although it does have a story of sorts (by Alan Golub and Laura
Goldfader) that ties its musical numbers--ranging from saccharine to bittersweet--together. The show, which is playing
at the intimate 47th Street Theatre (a red building with the words Puerto
Rican Traveling Theatre painted on its façade), celebrates the joys of
eating chocolate and the woes of being a chocoholic with a cast of five and a two-piece band
(drums and synthesizer). A four-member backup ensemble, the Chocolate Layer Players (Laura D’Andre, Talene Monahon, Andrew Pandaleone, James and James Patterson) supports mistress of
ceremonies Cookie Conwell (Emily McNamara), of Flossmore, Illinois. She’s World
Queen of the Cocoa Bean, though her year in the position is up, and she’s reluctant
to give up her title. Her competition is chosen from the audience, not at
random, thank God, but by asking for volunteers (for which dubious duty many
raise their hands); when I was there almost all of those chosen were kids, one
tiny tot looking as young as two but smart enough to answer the questions asked
of her.
From left: Andrew Pandaleone, Laura D'Andre, Talene Monahon, James Patterson. Photo: Carol Rosegg.
A series of musical numbers (by book
writers Alan Golub and Laura Goldfader) celebrating the history, pleasures, and dangers (it could kill dogs)
of chocolate is sung and danced (with serviceable choreography by Grady McLeod Bowman) by the energetic cast, and, at the end, the
winner of the contest is announced, with Connie so upset about relinquishing the
throne she eats her chocolate crown and, like Lady Macbeth smeared in blood, loses her mind and shows up with hands and face covered in
brown.
This is a low-rent show with cheap-looking
scenery by Steven C. Kemp depicting large bars of different kinds of chocolate.
The costumes by Orli Nativ do their best to be amusing, especially Connie’s
floor-length gown decorated with chocolate syrup patterns. There's so much brown on view you might think you're watching a commercial for UPS.
Emily McNamara. Photo: Carol Rosegg.
As is so often the case with such
offbeat little shows, the performers are all appealing, enthusiastic, more or
less talented, and with a fondness for mugging; the standout is Ms. McNamara, a
tall Julie Halston-type comedienne armed with excellent comic timing and
improvisational smarts. She came up with a number of funny zingers during the
largely off-the-cuff contest bits with the little ones, but, as anyone knows who
has seen shows with audience participation before, what the audience members
say and do can have you laughing the loudest. And so was it here. There are
also audience surveys seeking answers to whether people like milk or dark chocolate, chocolate with or without nuts, and so on. These moments are among the most painful cavities the show produces.
They sell chocolate bars in the tiny
lobby, and all spectators are gifted with a thin, chocolate square. Thus THE
CHOCOLATE SHOW is entirely in good taste, even a scene purportedly showing, on
a platter, the first edible form of chocolate in the shape of, let’s say, a
coprophiliac’s delight, with no one so much as smirking at the resemblance. The
11 mostly ordinary songs and sketches, however, with titles like “I’m a Chocoholic,”
“Hot Chocolate,” “Death by Chocolate,” and “Mocha Mocha Friday” are barely digestible, although "Kids Again," sung nicely by Ms. Monahon, as a chocolate shop employee, is a pretty ballad. Still, an intermissionless hour and a half of chocolate-themed material being shoved down your throat is more than most people can swallow.