California Dreams was better than Saved by the Bell. There, I said it.
"Everything I do is for the gaze," belts out Megan Hilty in her first number from the new screen-to-musical-stage adaptation of Death Becomes Her, which opened tonight at the Lunt-Fontanne Theatre on Broadway. Of course, it's obviously a clever and not-so-subtle use of homophones as a debt of gratitude to the audience most responsible for bestowing cult classic status upon the original 1992 film -- a status that also no doubt paved the fabulously sequined road from screen to stage. (Witness a 2017 Vanity Fair article titled "The Gloriously Queer Afterlife of Death Becomes Her," which may or may not explain the onstage appearances of Liza Minnelli, Judy Garland, and assless pants during Hilton's tune.)
The fact that the new Broadway show did away with the movie's super campy opener of Meryl Streep's "Me" -- the film's only musical number, incidentally -- and replaced it with the even campier "For the Gaze" tells you everything you need to know about the new production and its mission to go bigger and bawdier at every turn. It's a mission that succeeds more often than not.
The basic structure is the same. Hilty plays Madeline Ashton (Streep in the film), an aging (in Hollywood years) actress rapidly approaching has-been status, who is locked in a lifelong feud with frenemy author Helen Sharp (played by Jennifer Simard here and Goldie Hawn in the movie). Helen has a mental breakdown and then vows retaliation after Madeline steals and marries Helen's finacé Ernest (Christopher Sieber, taking on the Bruce Willis role). Complicating all of this is the fact that age-phobic Madeline and revenge body-seeking Helen have both consumed a fountain-of-youth potion to keep them eternally young, but it's a potion with some, shall we say, complications... especially after what should be otherwise life-ending events.
Within that structure, there are some story alterations along the way in Marco Pennette's script, including Ernest's employment, the person responsible for pushing Madeline down the stairs, and a rejiggered ending. (Helen's post-breakdown fat suit is also thankfully absent.) Of course, the big question theater goers may have walking into the Lunt-Fontanne is how the production can possibly recreate Madeline's head being twisted backwards, or Helen having a giant shotgun blast-sized hole in her chest -- especially without the use of ample CGI. We won't ruin the surprise, but suffice it to say, director Christopher Gattelli leans on kitschy solutions there as well.
Like the film, much of the Death Becomes Her musical rests on the shoulders of its stars. Hilty is a comedic force to be reckoned with in both song and speech, amping up the self-absorption to 11 and hilariously delivering every line as an over-the-top two-time Oscar loser relegated to starring in something called Dogstronaut might. As Helen, Simard matches Hilton's energy with some well-placed quirks of her own, especially when cataloging her own obsessiveness in the somewhat demented solo "Madeline."
Naturally, the pair has a big show-stopping duet in the form of -- SPOILER ALERT! -- "Alive Forever," but the two are even more effective when dialed down and playing off each other in the chuckletastic "Tell Me, Ernest" -- which acts as a high point for a stable of songs from Julia Mattison and Noel Carey that aim to cram in as many jokes as hooks. (Considering I could only recall a handful of melodies after, that may serve as equal parts compliment and complaint.)
Sieber is a good sport as Ernest, playing more of a straight man than Willis' goofier, drunker portrayal in the film, and generally taking a back seat to the two feuding females. His one solo, "Till Death," feels somewhat perfunctory, but is at least helped out by some lively (hint, hint) set design by Derek McLane.
The one big casting swing and a miss comes in the form of Michelle Williams as Viola Van Horn -- the mysterious and enigmatic provider of the potion which sets Madeline and Helen on their eternal journey. Played by a mostly naked Isabella Rossellini in the film, the role is beefed up for the stage. In fact, Viola gets both the opening song and the final line of the show. But while Williams' pipes are well established from her time alongside Beyoncé in Destiny's Child, the singer gives an oddly stiff and charisma-free performance, which stands out as a problem when the character she is portraying is meant to be the most charismatic and alluring presence of them all. Even Viola's epic opening wardrobe from costume designer Paul Tazewell and a gorgeous purple glow bathing the stage from lighting designer Justin Townsend can only do so much.
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If you were looking for this Death to add a bit of social commentary with a feel-good message of female empowerment to help mitigate the original's storyline of two women fighting each other over a man, look elsewhere. The beauty and aging double-standard between the genders is at least winked at -- "Men can walk around looking like a scrotum and it's fine!" complains Hilty's Madeline at one point -- but more common are lines that poke at the character's obsession with youth for laughs: "You are going full Sunset Boulevard," observes Madeline's assistant Stefan (Josh Lamon). (For those also looking to go full Sunset Boulevard, the musical just happens to be playing two blocks away.)
The momentum during the two-hour and 30-minute runtime also does stall somewhat in the second act -- perhaps gently reminding audiences that indeed not everything should last, or take, forever -- yet eventually recovers with a welcomely recrafted ending. The new finish may lack the side- (and arm- and leg- and head-) splitting gag of the film, but offers a touching and terrifically funny send-off to our tragic love triangle of doom. Madeline and Helen may have faked their deaths, but we'll doubtlessly see them again. After all, the only thing more eternal than these brawling broads is the intellectual property that birthed them. Grade: B
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