Death Becomes Her (c) Matthew Murphy + Evan Zimmerman
Broadway: Death Becomes Her
At the Lunt-Fontaine Theatre
Gay men and musical theater have always had a symbiotic relationship, but this season producers are baldly courting this “disposable income” demographic with shows that are not even queer-coded but proudly shouting the quiet gay parts out loud. To the list of shows like The Big Gay Jamboree, DRAG: The Musical, "Oh, Mary!" and Sunset Blvd, you can now add “Death Becomes Her,” the deliriously funny new musical based on the 1992 Meryl Streep-Goldie Hawn film, where two enormously talented and game actresses are essentially drag queening these memorable characters on stage. Once only known for her role in the TV series Smash, Megan Hilty has cemented a new “known for” role as a vain, two-time Oscar-nominated actress Madeline (the Streep character), eschewing traditional musical comic line readings with deliciously sassy lines “reads” worthy of RuPaul herself. Not to be outdone, Jennifer Simard’s aspiring novelist Helen Sharp (the Hawn role) may start out meek but is soon delivering acid-filled asides with the skill and vocal register-dropping accuracy of a Charles Busch. These two frenemies also have a tug-of-war over the hapless plastic surgeon Ernest Menville (the straight-lace, but always funny Christopher Sieber). And as if the show couldn’t be any gayer, there’s also the divine Michelle Williams (formerly of Destiny’s Child) as the mysterious Viola Van Horn (played in the movie by Isabella Rossellini), who tempts Madeline with a Fountain of Youth elixir. Williams starts the show dressed (in one of invaluable costume designer Paul Tazewell’s many jaw-dropping creations) like a couture perfume bottle ready-made for the Met Gala, but not necessarily for walking. Williams also gets a rare, thunderous second (!) burst of applause when she re-enters the story about 45 minutes into the first act, as if to remind the audience there are no small roles in musical theater for a diva.
Death Becomes Her (c) Matthew Murphy + Evan Zimmerman
The only question for a show so idiosyncratically molded to a 2024 camp sensibility—as director Christopher Gattelli’s never-ending well of inspired moments is—if it will actually have staying power. As the recent revivals of Monty Python’s Spamalot and The Who’s Tommy shown, sometimes a zeitgeist show from Broadway’s past cannot recapture the magic of the original. The non-stop one-liners by Marco Pennette and the catchy and sometimes fourth-wall breaking songs by Julia Mattison and Noel Carey (all three making their Broadway writing debuts) do contribute to the mind-bogglingly enjoyable recipe. This is a perfect storm production with a heaven-sent acting ensemble and all the talented creatives involved, especially the stellar work of the usually unsung fight choreography (here by Cha Ramos) performed by a group of talented stunt-double performers/acrobats. On a versatile set by Derek McLane and clever lighting by Justin Townsend, there such a sensory overload that one might not catch, like the current hit film The Substance, that Death Becomes Her is tackling an important issue of youth and beauty, especially for women past a certain age, underneath all the jokes and double-entendres. The musical avoids any editorializing but certainly doesn’t condone the comic book actions of our two main characters. With two unforgettably delirious performances by Hilty and Simard, permission to laugh non-stop? Granted.
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Maybe Happy Ending (c) Matthew Murphy + Evan Zimmerman
Broadway: Maybe Happy Ending
At the Belasco Theatre
Before AI becomes our overlord, we can still imagine a future where the only downside of having HelperBots in our lives is what to do with them when they are no longer needed. And in this near-future world of Seoul, Korea, instead of just turning off the bots, they are given apartments to live out their days until they become so obsolete they slowly expire. Euthanasia would seem to be quicker and cheaper, so that’s really the only plot point I questioned in the enjoyable and sweet Maybe Happy Ending, which takes place in a retirement community of bots, where we meet Oliver (a charming Darren Criss), a HelperBot 3 model, who is part Sheldon Cooper/part Shields and Yarnell (IYKYK). He is totally content to stay in his apartment with a plant named HwaBoon, listening to the jazz records of his former owner James Choi (Marcus Choi), waiting for the day James comes back to pick him up after he settles into his new home on Jeju Island. One day, unexpectedly, he gets a knock on his door. It’s not James but another bot named Claire (Helen J. Shen, making an impressive Broadway debut), who is having problems charging her battery. They have an uneasy peace as Claire, who is a HelperBot 5 and is more humanoid than the robotic Oliver, charges her battery once a day on Oliver’s strictly regulated schedule (hence the comparisons to the character Jim Parsons played on The Big Bang Theory) with Claire slowly trying to open him up.
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Maybe Happy Ending (c) Matthew Murphy + Evan Zimmerman
From this BotCute encounter, we get a breezy opposites-attract story of two Bots getting to know each other before Claire finally gets bored with her slow pace towards obsoletion and wants Oliver to help her with a plan. Maybe Happy Ending is a chamber piece to be sure with only four actors (the fourth being Dez Duron playing the jazz singer), but Tony Award-winning director Michael Arden creates a world of wonder for these two bots, with set designer Dane Laffrey cleverly molding worlds in little matchbox dioramas (please note that if your seats are on the far ends of each row, you will miss some moments). Shen is very likeable as Claire, whose upgraded hard drive gives her more information than Oliver, but also more sentience about her fate. But Criss is the heart and soul of Maybe Happy Ending, giving Oliver a perfectly clear directive that slowly melts away when confronted with the more spontaneous Claire. Criss has done fine work on Broadway replacing leads in Hedwig and the Angry Inch and How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying, but this is the first musical in which he has originated a role, and his Oliver is effectively heartbreaking and memorable. “Maybe Happy Ending” is written by Will Aronson and Hue Park with a snappy script and beautiful and moody songs. It starts out almost like the mismatched robots in Pixar’s Wall-E before its creative journey towards an almost existential quandary of an Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. It’s a beautiful, sincere show that reminds me of smaller musicals like Amour and Romance / Romance. And no spoilers about the ending (if it’s almost happy or not), but Maybe Happy Ending is a pleasant surprise that keeps you humming the score after the final curtain and as you head home to recharge.
Tammy Faye (c) Matthew Murphy
Broadway: Tammy Faye
At the Palace Theatre, closing on December 8
Timing is not on her side. Tammy Faye, the latest musical by Elton John (“Billy Elliot”) and Jake Shears of Scissor Sisters (“Tales of the City”), with a book by James Graham (“Finding Neverland”), is based on the life of disgraced but iconic Tammy Faye Messner (Katie Brayben, who won the Olivier in the show’s London world premiere in 2022), who with her husband Jim Bakker (Christian Borle), started one of the first satellite evangelical television stations, PTL (Praise The Lord). But the musical doesn’t just focus on the Bakkers’ rise and fall, but also the rise of evangelical and born again Christian preachers like Jerry Falwell (Michael Cerveris), who used TV as their pulpit and their popularity to influence politicians and elections. And after the results of the 2024 elections, Broadway audiences may not be amenable to a show about the start of the movement that has led to our current situation, even if there are occasional asides by the writers about the political hypocrisy of it all. By focusing on the most sympathetic figure of this electronic church phenomenon (and the most prominent woman), Tammy Faye sort of makes her popularity similar to a Jesus Christ Superstar rather than a Scandalous or Leap of Faith, other musicals about disgraced religious figures. Tammy Faye is portrayed as a victim of an all-male, religious cabal jealous of her success, avoiding any complicity and greed on her part when PTL and the vacation destination of Heritage USA makes the Bakkers millionaires. Her innate goodness when practicing her faith, including, most famously, the time she sympathetically interviewed a man with AIDS and hugged him on air, takes center stage.
Tammy Faye (c) Matthew Murphy
Brayben, who is making an impressive Broadway debut, may not look like the real Tammy Faye (she’s more like a robust Reba McIntyre), but she makes her down home decency relatable, keeping the audience on her side belting wonderful solos and portraying an addiction to prescription drugs as Tammy Faye’s only character flaw. Borle at first seems to be playing Jim as a comic figure, but he also gives him unexpected dramatic heft. Cerveris is deliciously playing Faldwell as a behind-the-scenes puppet master, not unlike Caiaphas in Jesus Christ Superstar, only without the deeper-bass singing range. I really like the John-Shears songs, although many are so realistically and unironically faith-based that one wonders if churches looking for a more modern songbook might actually put some of these showtunes in their repertoire. Only the bouncy and dramatic “Promised Me” stands out with a much-needed different orchestration and one in which the ensemble cast really shines. Even with directorial touches already used to better effect in other shows this season like Sunset Blvd’s off-stage camera and the shout out to the gays for their devotions to their female idols (Death Becomes Her), Rupert Goold’s controlled production feels static, Episcopalian and Earthbound, never letting a Baptist revival fervor take over and rise.
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