Whenever it was 3 in the morning and we were working on deadline at my college newspaper, desperate to file a review, a co-editor would tell me to just say they were a revelation. The newest chick flick? A revelation. The star of Fordham’s latest theatrical effort? A revelation.
For the first time I really want to use that word to describe Spring Awakening, which I finally (finally) saw last week. The musical is so different from most you find these days, with its fist-pumping, punk, soundtrack, and devastating story of teenage self discovery.
Set in Germany in 1891, the play begins in a classroom, with a harsh disciplinarian headmaster. Students are not rewarded for questioning the world around them, but punished, and any “impure” conversation is left in whispers. Bright young Meltchior (Hunter Parrish, in his Broadway debut, best known for his spot on Showtime’s hit series Weeds) lives spiritedly, and questions the repressive world around him. He finds a kindred spirit in Wendla (Emily Kinney), a pretty young German who lives nearby, who is tragically naïve to the ways of the world. The show cruelly depicts the consequences of not being true to yourself (or of trying to stay true to yourself) despite the conflicting current of the world around you.
Parrish is charismatic as young Meltchior, but I kept finding myself wondering what the original cast member’s take was on the part, which makes me think his performance could have been better, because I never once second guessed the dazzling performance of the experienced Gerard Canonico as Moritz, a troubled, lost young teen who simply couldn’t live within the bounds of the society around him. His voice, full of pain and energy, fills up the entire theater. People in the rows were struggle not to rock out with the cast up until the moving finale of The Song of Purple Summer.
On Saturday, I joined my family, and a cute three-year-old seated in front of me for The Little Mermaid on Broadway, where the theater itself is aqua-themed and bright, inviting you into the fun, and a far cry from Spring Awakening… OR WAS IT?
Both are about the consequences of excessive parental or societal control. People rebel – mostly through song, when it comes to Broadway, whether it is Ariel singing longingly to be a part of another world, or the heartbreaking lyrics of “I Don’t Do Sadness,” Moritz’ best song in Spring Awakening. And without the right information, the consequences can be disastrous: in Spring Awakening, they are a suicide and an unwanted pregnancy and in the Little Mermaid, it's making a deal with the devil to get legs.
The Little Mermaid is an incredibly professional and lively production, featuring a stellar cast. Sierra Burgess is pitch perfect as Arial, and Ursula (Sherie Rene Scott) almost steals the show, with a slightly feminist take on the villain (she won’t take her voice for granted again, she muses about Ariel, once she knows what it’s like to be silenced).
The Little Mermaid, since its Disney, predictably delivers the characters safely through the difficult transition of adulthood, while the characters of Spring Awakening are not so fortunate. They both end on a note of promise, whether it’s with the traditional “girl meets boy and lives happily ever after,” or the solitary figure of hope amidst ruin in Spring Awakening.
(Also, I got a cool Little Mermaid cup on my way out of the theater, which makes me happy and hopeful.)
For the first time I really want to use that word to describe Spring Awakening, which I finally (finally) saw last week. The musical is so different from most you find these days, with its fist-pumping, punk, soundtrack, and devastating story of teenage self discovery.
Set in Germany in 1891, the play begins in a classroom, with a harsh disciplinarian headmaster. Students are not rewarded for questioning the world around them, but punished, and any “impure” conversation is left in whispers. Bright young Meltchior (Hunter Parrish, in his Broadway debut, best known for his spot on Showtime’s hit series Weeds) lives spiritedly, and questions the repressive world around him. He finds a kindred spirit in Wendla (Emily Kinney), a pretty young German who lives nearby, who is tragically naïve to the ways of the world. The show cruelly depicts the consequences of not being true to yourself (or of trying to stay true to yourself) despite the conflicting current of the world around you.
Parrish is charismatic as young Meltchior, but I kept finding myself wondering what the original cast member’s take was on the part, which makes me think his performance could have been better, because I never once second guessed the dazzling performance of the experienced Gerard Canonico as Moritz, a troubled, lost young teen who simply couldn’t live within the bounds of the society around him. His voice, full of pain and energy, fills up the entire theater. People in the rows were struggle not to rock out with the cast up until the moving finale of The Song of Purple Summer.
On Saturday, I joined my family, and a cute three-year-old seated in front of me for The Little Mermaid on Broadway, where the theater itself is aqua-themed and bright, inviting you into the fun, and a far cry from Spring Awakening… OR WAS IT?
Both are about the consequences of excessive parental or societal control. People rebel – mostly through song, when it comes to Broadway, whether it is Ariel singing longingly to be a part of another world, or the heartbreaking lyrics of “I Don’t Do Sadness,” Moritz’ best song in Spring Awakening. And without the right information, the consequences can be disastrous: in Spring Awakening, they are a suicide and an unwanted pregnancy and in the Little Mermaid, it's making a deal with the devil to get legs.
The Little Mermaid is an incredibly professional and lively production, featuring a stellar cast. Sierra Burgess is pitch perfect as Arial, and Ursula (Sherie Rene Scott) almost steals the show, with a slightly feminist take on the villain (she won’t take her voice for granted again, she muses about Ariel, once she knows what it’s like to be silenced).
The Little Mermaid, since its Disney, predictably delivers the characters safely through the difficult transition of adulthood, while the characters of Spring Awakening are not so fortunate. They both end on a note of promise, whether it’s with the traditional “girl meets boy and lives happily ever after,” or the solitary figure of hope amidst ruin in Spring Awakening.
(Also, I got a cool Little Mermaid cup on my way out of the theater, which makes me happy and hopeful.)
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