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THEATRE'S LEITER SIDE, 2012-2013 A Brief Memoir and Reviews
“Sex, Thugs, and Rock and Roll”
THEATRE'S LEITER SIDE, 2012-2013 A Brief Memoir and Reviews
“Sex, Thugs, and Rock and Roll”
I come late to this show, formally called Jim Steinman’s Bat
Out of Hell: The Musical, which opened a couple of weeks ago at New York City Center, while I was away. Here for a limited
run through September 8, it's already been
widely reviewed. Bat Out of Hell, of course, is a buzz-heavy, rock musical founded on the eponymous 1977 album, one of the best-selling of all time (it had two sequels), with Meat Loaf performing the music and lyrics of Jim Steinman.
Its New York version has undergone frequent revisions, personnel
changes, and internal production conflicts since the original had its 2017 premiere in Manchester, England, with
later stagings in London’s West End, Toronto, and Oberhausen, Germany. A North
American tour is said to have been canceled but the show’s journey has had
enough twists and turns to suggest it may yet get back on the road.
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| Tyler Wiltex Jones, William Branner, Andrew Polec. All photos: Little Fang. |
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| Christine Bennington. |
This approach let’s us hear
the indelible sounds of not only "Bat Out of Hell," but “All Revved Up with No Place to Go,” “Dead
Ringer for Love,” “For Crying Out Loud,” “Heaven Can Wait,” “I’d Do Anything
for Love (But I Won’t Do That,” “It’s All Coming Back to Me Now,” “Love and
Death and the American Guitar,” “Making Love Out of Nothing at All,” “Objects
in the Rear View Mirror May Appear Closer Than They Are,” “Out of the Frying
Pan (And into the Fire),” “Paradise by the Dashboard Light,” “Two Out of Three
Ain’t Bad,” “Wasted Youth,” “What Part of My Body Hurts the Most?,” and, “You
Took the Words Right Out of My Mouth (Hot Summer Night).” A vivid lyric (regardless of whatever it may mean) in the last, “Would
you offer your throat to the wolf with red roses,” becomes the hero’s running
query to potential lovers.
Core elements of Barrie’s classic tale have been moved from
Victorian London to a dystopian Manhattan, now called Obsidian, where the father
of what we remember as the Darling family is transformed into Falco (Bradley Dean), a studly tyrant who looks more like a pop singer in the Tom Jones tradition than the billionaire CEO he depicts. His wife is the glamorous, alcoholic
Sloane (Lena Hall), in conflict with her oppressive husband and concerned for the
future of their only child.
That would be Raven (Christina Bennington), a rebellious, 17-going
on-18 hottie. She resents her father’s restrictions against her leaving their
home in a towering skyscraper, suggested by Jon Bousor’s perspective,
multifloored setting, with the word Falco emblazoned across its façade. (Not
quite Trump and Ivanka, but one can imagine the possibilities.)
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| Lena Hall, Bradley Dean. |
Peter Pan is envisioned in the person of Strat (the
sensational Andrew Polec, who played it in London and Toronto), an 18-year-old in the rock star fashion of a young Roger Daltrey, with wild, blonde hair and eyeliner
topping a tall, androgynously slender frame in black leather pants. He’s the leader
of an orphaned gang of young scavengers, the Lost (think Barrie’s Lost Boys),
living in the post-apocalyptic city’s abandoned tunnels and subways, and decked out in designer
Bousor’s punk rock-meets-Mad Max duds, hairdos, and makeup. All are forever
young because of something about their DNA having been frozen as a result of
chemical warfare.
Among their singing and dancing members are Strat’s gay, child-like
friend, Tink (Avionce Hoyle), jealous of Raven for stealing Strat’s affections,
and the voluptuous Zahara (Danielle Steers), who also serves as Falco’s maid.
Her romance with another gang member, Jagwire (Tyrick Wiltez Jones), his head
shaved except for a blonde forelock, forms one of the subplots.
The muddy plot is further muddied by forcing the songs (when
Gareth Owens’s sound design lets you catch the lyrics) to somehow fit the narrative, or vice versa. The action mainly concerns the conflict between Falco (supported by his thuggish militia) and the
Lost, whom he believes represent a threat to the wellbeing of his daughter. Tink
fares less well than Tinker Bell in the violent proceedings, but, after Strat
returns from the dead (don't ask), peace comes to Obsidian.
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| Andrew Polec, Christine Bennington. |
Bat Out of Hell clicks only when its famous songs take
over from the pulpy book. To get to them, you have to endure the phony, bland, and
unconvincing nonmusical material. With the songs so artificially made to serve the story, this way-overlong, two-hour and 40-minute rock opera-striving tale of teenage rebellion,
romantic suffering, and marital discord grows more convoluted, clichéd, confusing,
and contrived.
At the end, when the company sings—terrifically, but at notable
length—the infectious “I’d Do Anything For Love (But I Won’t Do That),” it sounds great but, contextually, you may wonder what it is that everybody keeps declaring they won't do for love. Reading the lyrics won't necessarily clear it up.
The heavily rhythmic score gets its full complement of stage
fog, dazzling (often strobe-driven) lighting (by Patrick Woodroole), confetti
blasts, and athletic, music video-style choreography (“adapted by” Kena Gusthart),
much of it using robotic, martial arts-type movements. Some numbers make
colorful use of a fancy motorcycle and a retro convertible.
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| Andrew Polec, Christine Bennington. |
Jay Scheib’s breathless direction keeps things hopping but his
insistence on puerile sexual naughtiness, where line after line is accompanied
by humping, licking, and otherwise genitally-directed behavior is irritatingly juvenile.
Equally distracting is his backing so much of the action with televised projections
of exactly what we’re already seeing live, with a camera operator following the
actors around à la the manner of Ivo van Hove.
The cast, though, is first rate. Polec moves, acts, and sings with
starbright magnetism and should have a bright future. Tony-winner Hall uses her great voice, good looks, and sense of humor to
bring her cartoonish character to vivacious life (not least of which when she
strips down to sexy skivvies). The macho Dean (who gets to perform in tight, pink scanties--oh, what actors have to do!) invests enormous passion and a huge voice into his every note and lyric. And Steers has an earthy, Cher-like sound and extraordinary charisma
that deserve bigger billing. Bennington, from the West End company, matches gorgeous
(although too-mature-for-the-role) looks and vocal talent with not quite so gorgeous
acting chops.
If you’re of a certain generation, the score will be
familiar and probably beloved. Like some of the ecstatic, arm-waving fans swarming to the show like
bats out of hell, you’ll dig the show's sex, thugs, and rock
and roll. If so, three out of three ain’t bad.
New York City
Center
131 W. 55th
St., NYC
Through September
8
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