"Matilda the Musical" at the Shubert Theater
What I have
suspected since the Tony Awards in early June is confirmed—“Matilda” deserved
to win Best Musical.
“Matilda,”
with an inventive book by Dennis Kelly and a preternaturally magnificent score by
the Australian comic singer Tim Minchin, is based on one of the final novels of
Roald Dahl, about a five-year-old genius with telekinetic powers. Famously, the role of Matilda Wormwood in the
musical is played by a rotation of four young actresses: Sophia Gennusa, Oona
Laurence, Bailey Ryon, and Milly Shapiro (the four of whom were honored with a
special Tony Award at the end of last month).
I was fortunate to see a performance starring Ms. Ryon, whose energy and
ability are so unmatched by any other young actress I have yet witnessed that,
had she actually begun to move the scenery about with her mind, I would not
have been surprised.
Matilda is
born to parents who are unable to recognize her brilliance. Her father (Gabriel Ebert, who won a Tony for
this role) is a conniving car salesman who is unable to understand Matilda’s
devotion to the written word when the television is within reach. (His song “Telly,” which opens the second
act, is one of Mr. Minchin’s more entertaining numbers.) Mr. Ebert’s bowlegged walk and comic
versatility are a high point
of this show filled with high points. Mrs.
Wormwood (Lesli Margherita), meanwhile, is a competitive ballroom dancer who
has no time for her unwanted second child.
To put her parents in their place, Matilda must pull elaborate pranks on
her father like dyeing his hair green and gluing his hat to his head with
superglue. The Wormwoods’ dynamic with
their daughter and their older, dull son, Michael (Taylor Trensch), is a
testament not only to Mr. Kelly’s effortless writing but also to their
tremendous respective acting abilities.
Matilda’s
life is worse, if anything, at her school, Crunchem Hall, where daily life is
dominated by the delightfully evil headmistress, Miss Trunchbull, played with
unbelievable, superhuman abandon by Bertie Carvel. Mr. Carvel endows Trunchbull with
teeth-gnashing wickedness only enhanced by delivery through calm hisses. He knows that villainy is best performed
through threatening restraint. His
musical talent, too, is prevalent. In “The
Hammer,” Trunchbull’s recipe for success in competitive hammer-throwing and
life, and “The Smell of Rebellion,” her recipe for success (if you can call it
that) in child-rearing, Mr. Carvel shines with an aerobic agility one would
think impossible of such a broad, dense character. (The mind-blowing choreography is by Peter Darling.) Even the difficult patter section of “Smell of Rebellion” is
delivered without fault. Mr. Carvel is
the most talented stage actor in years.
But the
star here is no one of these. It is Tim
Minchin’s perfect score, shot through with lyrical intricacy and musical
triumph, that just barely outshines the masterful performances of nearly every
cast member (including the show’s many energetic children) and the gorgeous
scenic design (by Rob Howell). There are
too many flawless numbers to mention, and yet I must—the rhythmically minded
opening number, “Miracle,” a characteristic Minchin satire that pokes fun at
parents who believe their children to be immaculate; the hugely catchy theme to
Matilda’s prank-pulling, “Naughty;” “Loud,” in which Mrs. Wormwood professes
that “What you know matters less / Than the volume with which what you don’t
know’s expressed;” “Quiet,” a lyrically beautiful number in which Matilda
discovers her powers; and, of course, the finale, “Revolting Children,” in
which the students of Crunchem rise up against the Trunchbull and,
incidentally, the only song ever written that wholly deserves the detonation of
a confetti cannon at its conclusion. Mr.
Minchin is not only one of the greatest pianists of his generation (if you don’t
believe me, look up his song “Dark Side”), he is also one of the greatest
songwriters. If we are gifted with
another one of his scores next week, it will have been too long, but by all
rights this masterpiece of his should run until the end of time. I could certainly see it thousands upon thousands of times more, and never tire of it.
Occasionally
when watching a musical one is forced to consider how dreary it must be to
perform in the same story with the same songs and the same outcome eight times
a week, week after week. However, while
I was watching the cast of “Matilda” come out for their curtain call during a
medley of the sweet song “When I Grow Up” and “Naughty,” I thought to myself
what a glorious privilege it must be to be a part of this piece of art each night. Not only does it seem great
fun to be a part of such a multitalented ensemble, but it must be gratifying to
know you’ve been a part of history.
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