Broadway Reviews Theatre Review by Howard Miller - November 21, 2024 Death Becomes Her. Book by Marco Pennette. Music and lyrics by Julia Mattison and Noel Carey. Based on the Universal Pictures film written by Martin Donovan and David Koepp, directed by Robert Zemeckis Directed and choreographed by Christopher Gattelli. Music supervisor Mary-Mitchell Campbell. Scenic design by Derek McLane. Costume design by Paul Tazewell Lighting design by Justin Townsend. Sound design by Peter Hylenski. Hair and wig design by Charles LaPointe. Make-up design by Joe Dulude II. Fight director Cha Ramos. Illusions by Tim Clothier. Orchestrations by Doug Besterman. Music director Ben Cohn. Dance and music arrangements by Sam Davis. Vocal arrangements by Mary-Mitchell Campbell, Julia Mattison, and Noel Carey. Music coordinator Kristy Norter. Associate director Bethany Pettigrew. Resident director and choreographer Mark Myars. Associate choreographer Lou Castro
Some people will do anything to battle the wrinkles and sags that accompany us as we grow older. Facelifts? Tummy tucks? Botox? Human placentas? Sure. But the results are short-lived and never enough. What if there were a magical serum that would keep you young looking forever? That's the premise of the show as well as the promise proffered to a select few by the mysterious Viola Van Horn (Michelle Williams, glammed up from head to toe), who appears amidst thunder and lightning at the show's opening wearing one of Paul Tazewell's glittering gowns that would be right at home at the Met Gala. "It is life's ultimate cruelty, isn't it" she asks, directly and judgmentally addressing the audience. "To give us a precious few years of youth and beauty and then force us to witness our own decay." Then, as if to emphasize what she is offering as an alternative, in sashays the entourage of her idealized clients, posing as if for a multipage spread in Vogue, or perhaps as backup dancers in Madonna's song of that same name. (Christopher Gattelli, who serves double duty as the show's director and choreographer, pours on the glamour along with the punchy jokes and the big dance numbers for all they are worth.) Having set the stage for what follows, we then meet the two women who are about to succumb to the temptation of flawless looks, no matter the price. In one corner, there's Madeline Ashton (Megan Hilty, giving us the perfect combo pack of insecurity and narcissism). Wherever she goes, she introduces herself as a "two-time Oscar nominee," though her career is pretty much on the skids. She is now doing anything she can to remain in the public eye. When we meet up with her, she is filming a commercial for a revitalizing cream. "When I get my first wrinkle," she begins, only to be interrupted by her director: "Got your first wrinkle not 'get.' You already got 'em." The show is packed with such catty digs, courtesy of Marco Pennette's book, and most land as zingingly as intended, never lingering but moving quickly on to the next set-up. In the opposite corner, we find Helen Sharp (Jennifer Simard, a Wonder Woman of comic timing), who has been in a personal rivalry with Madeline since like forever, long before either of them learns what "forever" actually means. The Mad Hatter to Madeline's March Hare (or maybe vice versa), Helen shows up at Madeline's home to rub her nemesis's nose in her forthcoming marriage to Mr. Ernest Menville, or rather "Doctor Ernest Menville," played by Christopher Sieber as a hapless man who is easily manipulated by either or both of the women.
From then on, it's Hel vs. Mad all the way, 'til death do they (never) part. Separately, they become clients of Viola Van Horn, and they vow to out-glam and out-biatch each other until one of them succumbs. No holds barred, not even attempted murder. But per the promise of eternal beauty, neither a well-timed (and brilliantly staged) shove from the top of the stairs nor shotgun blasts to the stomach do more than cause fixable damage to various body parts. (Credit illusionist Tim Clothier for some very special special-effects here.) As long as Ernest is on hand to work his reconstructive magic, the ladies are good to go. With such powerful women in command of the lead roles, the refreshingly original, character-driven songs (music and lyrics by Julia Mattison and Noel Carey) are splendidly performed, with witty, often bawdy, lyrics for Hilty and Simard, and more sophisticated ones for Williams. But for my money, it is Sieber who gets the perfect comic number, something called "The Plan." It is here, when the show veers away from cleverly planted punchlines, that it lets loose to achieve its highest level of comic delight, both in delivery and in staging. It comes at a point when Ernest is frantically trying to figure out how to repair the women's mutilated body parts, and it takes on a loosey-goosey air reminiscent in tone of something from Little Shop of Horrors or "Pee-wee's Playhouse." It is a doozie, and Sieber plays it to the hilt. As with any farcical show, it takes a while to crank up a full head of steam, but once the situation is laid out, the cast delivers the goods. And this includes the ensemble as well as the leads, with tips of the hat to Taurean Everett as Viola Van Horn's aide-de-camp and Josh Lamon as Madeline's put-upon assistant. Any film-to-stage adaptation is a real challenge, and this one is particularly gnarly, given the original movie's reliance on special effects and computer-generated imagery. That it works at all is a wonder, but the real wonder is that it works so well. Thumbs up, three cheers, and a long, long, long life to Death Becomes Her.
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