“Liberal Democrats
from Broadway Go to Indiana”
Last week,
my review of Clueless, The Musical mentioned
the plethora of other high school musicals filling local stages over the past several
years, among them Bring it On, Heathers,
Cruel Intentions, Dear Evan Hansen, and Mean Girls, but accidentally overlooked The Prom, which I had yet to see. That delightful
newcomer is now bringing its feel-good vibes to the Longacre Theatre following
its world premiere at Atlanta’s Alliance Theatre. And while it’s yet another show
emphasizing the theme of identity politics, it serves up enough spoonfuls of theatrical
sugar to make its medicine go down. 
Like 1998’s
Footloose, which concerned a ban on
dancing, it focuses on a small town’s small minded reaction to something deemed socially
questionable. The Prom, which centers
on the controversy surrounding negative reactions to a gay student’s
attendance at her high school prom, is inspired by multiple
real-life events concerning same-sex students. (Jack Viertel is credited with
the concept.) In fact, Vice-President Pence, former governor of Indiana (where the
play is deliberately set), noted for his anti-LGBTQ positions, was
publicly invited to a performance. 
The Prom is about the storm of publicity raised
when Mrs. Greene (Courtenay Collins, suitably forceful), head of the PTA of
James Madison High School in Edgewater, IN, cancels the school’s prom to
prevent the lesb Emma (Caitlin Kinnunen, vocally gifted), who
dresses in a khaki military jacket and loose flannel shirt, from going with
her girlfriend (who, as we’ll discover, is Mrs. Greene’s closeted daughter, Alyssa
[Isabelle McCalla, sweetly conflicted]). Some of the details concerning the
cancellation may not be clear but it’s not worth bothering your head about them. 
Meanwhile two
Broadway actors, the flamboyantly gay Barry Glickman (Brooks Ashmanskas, Something Rotten!) and the self-centered
diva Dee Dee Allen (Beth Leavel, The Drowsy
Chaperone), have not only just been devastatingly panned by the New York Times for their performances as
FDR and Eleanor Roosevelt in Eleanor! The
Eleanor Roosevelt Story, but have been branded narcissists. 
Anxious to
save their careers (as if one Times review
nowadays could tank them) by demonstrating their selflessness, Barry and Dee
Dee team up with two similarly vain and out-of-work actors, Angie (Angie
Schworer, The Producers) and Trent
Oliver (Christopher Sieber, Shrek),
to go to Indiana and resolve Emma’s dilemma. Angie’s a chorus girl who has quit
Chicago after 20 years of being
overlooked for the role of Roxie Hart. Trent’s a Juilliard graduate (of which
he never stops reminding people), once a TV star on a show called “Talk to the
Hand,” but now waitering before landing a gig with a non-Equity, touring
production of Godspell. 
Joining these self-described "liberal democrats from Broadway" on their mission deep into conservative country is agent Sheldon Saperstein (David Josefsberg, nicely
covering for Josh Lamon when I saw the show).
As the
plot speeds toward its predictably heartwarming conclusion, we watch not only
the romantic complications the situation has stirred up between the slightly
butch Emma and the more girly Alyssa, but also the budding love affair of Dee Dee with the African-American
school principal, Mr. Hawkins (the affable Michael Potts, The Iceman Cometh), an avid fan of hers.
Each lead gets plenty of singing, dancing, and comic opportunities, and they’re supported
by an engaging ensemble playing the school kids and assorted minor characters. Bob
Martin (The Drowsy Chaperone) and Chad Beguelin’s (Aladdin) formulaic book provides them with engagingly entertaining material,
as do Beguelin’s snappy lyrics, and Matthew Sklar’s happily upbeat music.
The
numbers that conclude Acts One and Two, “Tonight Belongs to You” and “It’s Time
to Dance,” led by Emma and Alyssa, are rousing show-stoppers, but there’s a lot
more to enjoy, including Trent’s “Love Thy Neighbor,” whose title trounces the cherry
picking of scriptural admonitions, and “Zazz,” in which Angie boosts Emma’s
confidence by instructing her in Bob Fosse attitude. 
In fact,
much as The Prom is preoccupied with the
importance of inclusiveness, it’s also a paean to the pleasures show business
and theatre’s value in bringing people together. While the show often spoofs thespian
vanity, and there are frequent in-jokes at Broadway’s expense, the music and
lyrics express the essence of Great White Way style and showmanship. 
Dee Dee’s anthem,
“It’s Not about Me,” offers one view of theatrical life, Mr. Hawkins’s love
song to the theatre’s healing power, “We Look to You,” another. Add to this the
show biz knowhow of director/choreographer Casey Nicholaw (who directed/choreographed
one of Broadway’s other high school musicals, Mean Girls), including his hip-hoppish dances, and you’ll be
charmed by The Prom’s sparkling pizzazz. 
Leavel, Ashmanskas,
Sieber, and Schworer comprise as talented a quartet of musical comedy performers
as you’re likely to find. The trim Leavel’s brassy, all-about-me persona is spot
on, while the chubby Ashmanskas makes his fey gayness hilarious and his gracefully
energetic dancing surprising. The burly Sieber is similarly fun to watch and
listen to, as is the slender Schworer, with legs that never end, bringing to
mind—in the best sense—what Jane Krakowski would have done with her role. 
Scott Pask
provides an efficiently serviceable set that allows scenes to roll in and out
swiftly, Ann Roth and Matthew Pachtman design colorful, character-defining
costumes (although those Godspell outfits
go a bit too far in search of a laugh), Natasha Katz’s lighting doesn’t
disappoint, and Larry Hochman’s orchestrations squeeze the songs for all they’re
worth. 
The Prom is both substantial and fluffy,
serious yet cheering. Just watch the joyous faces of the cast during their rousing
curtain routine to see how much fun they’re having. This is the kind of show
that might even make Mike Pence show some emotion. Did I just hear someone from
Clueless say “as if”?
OTHER VIEWPOINTS:
Longacre Theatre
220 W. 48th
St., NYC
Open run