NEW YORK, NY.- At its best, topical satire, which is what the Forbidden Broadway franchise has been slinging for 42 years, is both timely and well targeted. The timeliness means that audience members know the material being ribbed; the targeting makes sure they know why.
Admittedly, timeliness is a vague concept when your subject is Broadway, where the targets recur at regular intervals. Its thus not a big problem that many of the songs in the shows latest edition which opened on Thursday at Theater 555 in the far west reaches of Hells Kitchen send up musicals and performers that Gerard Alessandrini, who created, writes and directs the series, has sent up before.
But the targeting in this outing, subtitled Merrily We Stole a Song in a nod to the flood of Stephen Sondheim revivals, including Merrily We Roll Along, is too often hazy. The opening number, repurposing Sit Down, Youre Rockin the Boat from Guys and Dolls as Sit Down, Youre Blocking the Aisle, feels like a title that went looking for a topic. (Its about rude patrons.) A segment about the upcoming Gypsy revival posits the unlikely idea that Audra McDonald is haunted by the ghosts of previous Roses. (Mermans gotta let go!) Having to admit that Lincoln Centers revival of South Pacific was terrific (even if its Camelot was horrific) turns a Tchaikovsky-themed takedown of that institution into a shrug.
To be sure, those numbers, and most of the others, are performed well by the four-person company, if rarely as well as they would be if performed by the people they are parodying. Thats a built-in problem when satire has little to satirize; if the worst snipe you can take at McDonald is that shes a glorious soprano and Merman wasnt, youre not going to be able to throw much shade.
Punching wild is also a problem here. Instead of using relevant songs to make his points, Alessandrini sometimes conscripts baffling outliers into service. A takeoff called Great Gatsby for Dummies, featuring a wicked Jeremy Jordan impersonation by Danny Hayward, is paired with the irrelevant song Good Morning from a 1939 movie. And a running gag in which Doc Brown and Marty McFly visit Broadway past and future, with a young Sondheim strangely in tow, is so in the weeds it has ticks. (It does, however, offer a glimpse of the 23rd centurys Ozempic Theater.)
Punches perfectly thrown at the ripest subjects provide the evenings better moments, even if some of the low blows are mere sideswipes. Of Ariana DeBoses recent award show hosting, Alessandrini writes: A girl like that/Could kill the Tonys. Chris Collins-Pisano does a deadly Ben Platt channeling Liza at the Palace in his recent run there: Everybody loves charisma/So nobody loves me. And a rewrite of The Ladies Who Lunch provides Jenny Lee Stern, a longtime Forbidden Broadway standout, with the opportunity for a pithy comment on Patti LuPones extreme mannerisms in the 2021 Company revival: Ill sink to that.
In the best bits, the gibes are more substantial, more sustained. A sequence about the current revival of Cabaret features Hayward as a series of Emcees from Joel Grey in 1966 to Alan Cumming in 1998 to Eddie Redmayne today as they grow progressively more vulgar and unpleasant. Not to be outdone, Stern offers a scathing take on Gayle Rankins psychotic Sally Bowles, here introduced wickedly as the toast of Bedlam. Elsewhere, Nicole Vanessa Ortiz nails Alicia Keys in an elaborate and eye-opening takedown of Hells Kitchen for its heavily fictionalized autobiography. Turning Girl on Fire into Pants on Fire is the kind of thing the series was designed to do.
Though Broadway, with its vanities and oddities, is in many ways an easy target, hitting satirical bulls-eyes is hard. Expecting Alessandrini to be as consistently sharp and catchy as the best musicals he ransacks is unrealistic. Even if the music direction by Fred Barton is, as always, top-notch, the shows staging is rudimentary, the pacing of its mere 90 minutes erratic and pocked with potholes. As such, its probably a good thing that last summers planned production of Forbidden Broadway on Broadway didnt work out; the scruffy, sarcastic, bare-bones revues that this franchise is modeled on no longer have a home there.
But in its natural habitat, on the far fringes of the theater district, Forbidden Broadway, whatever its longueurs, makes sense. It needs an ingrained outsiderness, and at least a few blocks distance, to aim its arrows well.
In any case, arent you dying to know what the next edition will do with Nicole Scherzinger in Sunset Boulevard and Idina Menzel in Redwood? Or what the 2224 edition, at the Ozempic Theater, will do with the umpteenth revival of Fiddler on the Roof? Dont be surprised if it stars an animatronic Kelli OHara as envisioned in the current one. Because yes and this is a fine credo for both Forbidden Broadway and LuPone theyll sink to that.
Forbidden Broadway: Merrily We Stole a Song
Through Jan. 5 at Theater 555, Manhattan; forbiddenbroadway.nyc. Running time: 1 hour 30 minutes.
This article originally appeared in
The New York Times.