School's In

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.