“Schmigadoon!” and “The Lost Boys” Are Killer Revamps
The first sign of the show’s commitment to the bit is the third song, a delirious hoedown called “Corn Puddin’,” a parody of inane but delightful vintage numbers such as “Real Nice Clambake,” “Shipoopi,” and the demented “Turkey Lurkey Time.” Josh rolls his eyes, repulsed by the elbows-out hoofing; Melissa goes native, twangily improvising a verse asking for an “extry” helping. Soon, the two leads are flirting (and cavorting) with new true-love prospects, in smartly crafted songs that are peppered with meta touches. “Effortless, effortless! This is so effing effortless,” Melissa croons in “Enjoy the Ride,” as she banters with a Billy Bigelow-ish carnival barker. “I wanna taste the things I’ve never tasted. / Man, your pants are really high-waisted.” A rowdy riff on “Ya Got Trouble!,” from “The Music Man,” escalates, alarmingly, into warnings about “Cows and sheep having amorous congress!” An airy ballad called “Suddenly” beautifully captures the irrational yet irresistible romance that pulses through the genre: “There’s no sense in trying to explain it. / What and where and why and when and how. / All I know is suddenly I love you / and, suddenly, that’s all that matters now.”
“Schmigadoon!” is at its funniest when it tweaks the tradition’s sillier motifs, such as a crowd of children nonsensically bursting into laughter at the end of a song. But the show isn’t a finger-wagging critique, let alone an edgy deconstruction—it’s mostly an opportunity for the creators to poke gentle fun at the classics while tapping into the sparkling well they sprang from. If you’re in a picky mood, you could find flaws: Act I ends with the kind of soft cliffhanger that makes more sense in TV. But who cares? The book’s shambolic rhythms pay off, as pressure slowly builds on Josh to join in instead of judging. And, God, the dancing is good: skilled, energetic, joyful.
The cast is excellent, particularly Isabelle McCalla as a spunky teacher, Brad Oscar as a closeted mayor, and Max Clayton as that tight-panted carnival barker. Alex Brightman, who was such a devilish extrovert in “Beetlejuice,” plays Josh with likable restraint, which makes his inevitable solo feel as meaningful as a longed-for kiss.
Still, the standout is a performer in a minor role: McKenzie Kurtz, who was the thrilling wild card in the otherwise disappointing recent revival of “Heathers,” in which she found wiggly layers in the bitch queen Heather Chandler. As the Ado Annie-like Betsy, a horny teen-ager whose father owns a shotgun, Kurtz is playing a character who should be, and kind of is, a one-joke punch line. She pulls off her big song, “Not That Kind of Gal,” gloriously, channelling the mid-century musical’s warped blend of libido and innocence. But it’s Kurtz’s physical performance, especially her gleaming rictus of a grin—jaw dropped nearly to her collarbone, eyes popped as wide as sunflowers—that becomes a symbol of the show’s wholesome appeal, which is all about being a little bit extry. In the safe space that is “Schmigadoon!,” there’s no such thing as cringe.
The equally larger-than-life musical “The Lost Boys” opens with a mysterious bang, and then with a staticky black-and-white date displayed high above the stage: “1987,” shuddering like a threat. Over loudspeakers, we hear the syrupy voice of President Ronald Reagan, droning on about family values. Finally, we see a flashlight—a cop is moving through the inky darkness of an industrial space, unwitting prey for the undead.
