If You Call a Chair a Throne it is Fit For a King
When the musical
Spamalot opened on Broadway I had serious fights with my theatre friends over whether it pushed the genre or proved Sondheim’s declaration that the musical was dead. I think musical theatre is one of the hardest forms to write and comedy to perform, so a piece that blends both is basically naked in front of my eyes. It does not take a well-trained anything to tell when a joke falls flat or hear when a singer falls out-of-tune. I argued for hours over the stakes in every minute of musical comedies- the songs, voices, book, acting, and dancing-but they hardly listened to me. It didn’t help that the title was
Spamalot and a year earlier I had screamed in their face about
Urinetown.
Therefore, it was no surprise when I found myself without my friends watching Burnt Nightingale’s excellent production of
TROY! The Musical. Bryant Lake Bowl is the perfect venue for this piece as you can bring in your beer and fries- creating the comfortable space for a belly laugh. I was blown away by the intelligent script written by Maggie K. Sotos, the sweet score by Joseph Ye, and the amazing cast that filled every minute of this piece with precision and skill. All the performers deserve their own mention as they all commit to this piece and make it spin with laughter.
The biggest success of
TROY! The Musical is the way it forces you to question all of the typical conventions of serious (or good) theatre because it was created out of playfulness. As a recovering Bachelor of Fine Arts major, I sometimes lack the sense of play when I view productions; I sit focused on class topics like diction, actions, character development, and various other techniques. Yet, when it comes to comedies, I want creativity, imagination, and bold characters.
Troy! The Musical had all of these elements plus the added intelligence of craft- it is possible for both to exist, even in a show where Achilles’ last words are “Name this tendon after me.”
Troy! The Musical retells an epic of sailing, city walls, and a war caused by the love between Helen and Paris in 12th century B.C. In the story we travel to Sparta, see the completion of the wall (along with its size), witness army boats sail to Troy, and finally see the construction of the horse that destroys Troy in the famous end. It is told with nine actors and one musician in 50 minutes- with only ten minutes to take down the wall afterward. This show is a beautiful reminder that simplicity creates as specifically as complexity.
My mind began dreaming what this show would look like at other houses in this city. The Guthrie could stage it in Thrust and wheel out an enormous wooden horse for the final battle. The Ordway could add an act break and serve hummus, olives, and wine while Greek musicians play in the lobby for opening. The Orpheum could send ships sailing through the audience traveling from Sparta to Troy. Chanhassen Dinner Theatre could cast amazing singers and dancers to fill the stage for all the 10-plus numbers. Theatre in the Round could divide the audience by section and let you choose your side in the war. The possibilities are endless.
Still, I know I would miss the puppets on top of the cardboard wall and the nine bodies making a horse at the Guthrie. I would miss the fast- paced nature of the script and the beer with fries if I was at the Ordway opening. The piece would lose a huge laugh if we saw the 100 ships pass us at The Orpheum instead of one paper sign that reads, “Ship x 100.” I would miss the infectious playfulness of each song if I was distracted by perfect dance lines and vibrato in Chanhassen. And I would miss the togetherness of everyone during the Fringe if it was only part of a three week run at Theatre in the Round.
I guess what I was defending in
Spamalot and
Urinetown is the fact that I like a little grittiness in my art; it can enhance a piece like
Troy! The Musical and dirty our clean ideas of what we consider good.
Just Between You and Me:
Two Dead Boys has the best trailer I have seen in a while.
