Forget for a moment that “Carrie: The Musical” is based on
Stephen King’s terrifying debut novel and the subsequent iconic 1976 Brian De
Palma film. And I know it will be exceptionally hard, but also forget that the
show is a much-revised version of the cult-classic, infamous 1988 Broadway flop
(thankfully, the book has exorcised most –if not all-of the demons that initially
made the show a campy, miserable failure).
“Carrie: The Musical,” enjoying its Chicago premiere at
Bailiwick Chicago at Victory Gardens through July 12, soars like a phoenix on
the strength of the performances of its leading ladies and a terrific ensemble
cast. If you’re looking for camp, look elsewhere. This is a serious and somber
tragedy t electrifies. As seen with the Bailiwick production, “Carrie” deserves
to be rescued from the pile of shows whose Broadway dreams did not pan out.
Aside from merely being entertaining, any revival (even
revivals of failed musicals) needs to have some cultural, political or social
relevance to the era in which it is being produced. “Carrie” is no different
and she comes bearing quite a message.
In 1955’s “Rebel Without a Cause,” it was teens rebelling against
society. In the musical “Carrie” (book by Lawrence D. Cohen who also wrote the
film script; lyrics and music by Academy Award winners Dean Pitchford and
Michael Gore, respectively) teens have become society and now battle each other
with tragic results.
Henry McGinniss, Rochelle Therrien as Tommy and Sue (background, left to right) and Callie Johnson as Carrie (front) Photo by Michael Brosilow. |
As the sounds of police cars, fire trucks and ambulances are
heard, the lone witness and survivor to the carnage from teleknetic rage, Sue (Rochelle
Therrien in a delicate, but emotionally powerful performance) sets the tone with
the first line of dialogue: “You have to understand: we were just kids.”
Sadly, school massacres have almost become commonplace in
America.
Yes, crosses, books and other things get thrown in fits of telekinetic
rage, but nowadays, it’s more likely to be a gun than supernatural powers that
leads to a high school tragedy. Kids, just being kids, and, as Sue notes at the
end, “once you see, you can’t unsee.“
Carrie White, it would seem, is not the only one who views
themselves as an outsider. In the energetic opening number “In,” a group of
high schoolers lament “Life just doesn’t begin/until you fit in.”
It’s hardly earth-shattering news, but, yes, teenagers, in
their effort for peer acceptance, will often turn on anyone and everyone who is
different quicker than you can grab your copy of Lord of the Flies.
As the tortured Cinderella of the piece, Callie Johnson initially
sings of bringing her fellow classmates down to their knees in the title song,
and yet Johnson manages to illicit our sympathies. The song (and Johnson’s
performance of it) shows us the seed of rage that will be the source of her
powers later on. For the most part, she just wants to fit in like everyone else
and dreams of dancing, laughing more than she does.
Katherine L. Condit (left) and Callie Johnson. Photo by Michael Brosilow. |
As Carrie’s mother (and chief antagonist) Margaret,
Katherine L. Condit still physically, mentally and spiritually abuses her
daughter, but the results here are less over-the-top villainy and more the
signs of an over-protective parent. Condit sings such hymns such as “Open Your
Heart” and “When There’s No One” with such sweet conviction
If there is one cartoonish portrayal, it is that of Carrie’s
chief tormentor, Chris (Samantha Dubina). Though, to be perfectly fair, it’s
not Dubina’s fault. She has to deliver the line“There’s a runt in every litter
and our runt is Carrie White.” and in the song “The World According to Chris”
sings “better to strike then get struck\better to screw than get screwed.”
Michael Driscoll’s direction keeps things moving along with
an energy that pulses from the first number to the last. Brigitte Ditmars’
choreography has the required youthful vitality, particularly in the group
numbers.
Stephen H. Carmody’s sterile and industrial set, with
suspended metal lockers and chain link fencing evokes a sense of imprisonment
more than it does high learning. To some teens, that’s the point, though.
The second act opens with an ensemble song about the prom
that is both hopeful and energetic; it includes the lyrics “You ain’t seen
nothin’ yet\it’s gonna be a night we’ll never forget.” Given what we know is in
store for these kids, it’s the musical foreshadowing of the horror film
standard of “don’t go in there.”
If you’ve read the book or seen the movie, you know how
things must end. To Johnson’s credit, you heart still breaks for Carrie as
those events play out, though. I found myself wishing Carrie could have her
happy ending this time.
"Carrie: The Musical" runs through July 12 at the Victory Gardens Richard Christiansen Theater, 2433 N. Lincoln. Tickets, $40. (773) 871-3000. bailiwickchicago.org.
No comments:
Post a Comment