School of Rock at
the Winter Garden Theatre
Alex Brightman (far left) and the ensemble of School of Rock: The Musical.
There’s a
little miracle going on at the Winter Garden Theatre right now, which is strange,
because that esteemed stage is better known for gaudy, misbegotten,
mind-bogglingly long-running pieces; three of its last tenants are Mamma Mia!, Rocky, and Cats. That the man responsible for this show, School of Rock, is the same man who
wrote Cats, more than thirty years
ago, cannot be said to be especially surprising. It’s impossible to classify Andrew Lloyd
Webber or squeeze his shows into any category; they vary wildly in quality and scope,
often in the same score. Mr. Webber
hasn’t had a musical on Broadway in ten years, and he hasn’t written a
successful Broadway musical since Sunset
Boulevard, in 1993. What a way to
break a streak this is.
School of Rock is, of course, based on
the iconic Richard Linklater film, now (yikes) more than twelve years old, that
made a star of a young Jack Black. In
retrospect, it begs to be musicalized; it includes a few original songs (by
Black and Mike White) and an infectious spirit of rebellion and abandon, but
it’s Jack Black’s movie. Even Joan
Cusack, in an underrated turn as an overworked principal, can’t interrupt his
runaway train to stardom as the wannabe rock god Dewey Finn. (Sierra Boggess plays her role in the show,
and though she has unmistakably the best Broadway voice in the cast, whenever
she’s on stage you almost want her to get out of the way and let Dewey do his
thing.) As a comic role, Dewey, who’s
forced to impersonate his substitute-teacher roommate to raise money for rent,
is an actor’s dream, and Alex Brightman, who plays Black’s role here, grabs
hold of it with both hands. The first
intimation that this show isn’t going to run on nostalgia is the immediately
apparent fact that Mr. Brightman is not a Jack Black impersonator. With insane energy and dedication, he throws
himself into this hard-rocking, joyous musical as no one but himself, and we
wouldn’t want it any other way. He is
the unmatchable emcee of a big ball of fun.
Tony’s calling.
If Mr.
Brightman’s the anchor of this far-out cruise ship, then the phalanx of children in
his class, whom he wrangles into a pea-sized but unstoppable rock band, are the
crew. The pre-teens who make up the
show’s ensemble (and play all the instruments live, themselves, every night, as
Mr. Weber reminds us in a prerecorded announcement) are blessed with a level of
talent that completely defies the usual critic’s reluctance to embrace child
actors. When Dewey tells his lead
guitarist, Zack (Brandon Niederauer), “You’re only ten and you’re already
better than me,” and calls him “the next Hendrix,” you believe him. Those who don’t play instruments are just as
talented — deserving of special mention is Isabella Russo as Summer, the band’s
overachieving manager, who brings an earnestness to the part that Miranda
Cosgrove, who played Summer in the film, could never manage — not to mention a
singing voice Cosgrove, supposedly a musician, would envy. But it seems useless to describe these kids
with words — much like this shockingly entertaining production, they kind of have
to be seen to be believed.
Expanding
if not improving on the comfortable, lived-in universe of the film are Glenn
Slater (of the Disney film “Tangled”), a consistently capable, workmanlike
lyricist whose flashes of brilliance line up almost exactly with Mr. Webber’s,
and, oddly, Julian Fellowes, the creator of Downton Abbey, who wrote the
book. It’s not so surprising that Mr.
Fellowes would be attracted to this project — thanks to Mr. Weber, it’s got
British street cred, and Mr. Fellowes was nominated for a Drama Desk Award for
his book for 2006’s Mary Poppins. What is surprising is that he’d do it so
well. Without losing any of the best parts
of Mike White’s original film script (“I have been touched by your kids… and I’m
pretty sure I’ve touched them” still gets laughs), he has rounded out
characters, elucidated motivation, and adapted the hazy world of Richard
Linklater to the more brightly lit one of Broadway, all without missing a
beat. His contribution refuses to be
overlooked.
What this
all amounts to is a show that never fails to be exciting and new, but recalls
and replicates the comforting, sympathetic, artistic, explosive spirit of the
original film. It strikes a perfect
balance between cutesy escapades and its true, rebellious heart (a balance its forerunner,
Matilda, didn’t manage quite so
effectively), and it leaves you grinning from ear to ear days after seeing
it. Andrew Lloyd Webber’s projects are,
as a rule, hit or miss. This is a
hit. Let there be dancing in the aisles.
