Down the Rabbit Hole of Broadway
When I call Wonderland,
the new musical adaptation of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland currently paying rent at the Marriott Marquis, a
well-oiled machine, know that I have reached the bottom of the barrel when it
comes to silver linings. Those Frank Wildhorn high notes are hit; sets change
with precision; the choreography from Marguerite Derricks is performed with, if
not show-stopping verve, at least professional enthusiasm. And, if I listened
to my mother, I would stop there, because I don’t have anything else nice to
say. But to quote Gypsy Rose Lee from a different, superior musical, “I’m not
my mother.”
Unrelentingly garish, emotionally suspect and dabbling in
dime-store philosophy that even Lucy in the Peanuts comic strip might dismiss, Wonderland is the face of crass commercialism on Broadway,
unwilling or unable to disguise itself as anything other than an attempt to
cash in on Lewis Carroll’s creation. The (very) basic premise showed promise:
Alice is now a thirtysomething schoolteacher in the Bronx, who hits her head
and follows the White Rabbit down the service elevator in her building to a Wonderland
beneath the streets of New York City.
Perhaps sensing that audiences may have tired of the usual
adventures that Alice embarks upon, writers Gregory Boyd and Jack Murphy (yes,
it took two) turn the characters on their heads. The Cheshire Cat (Jose Llana)
has lost his powers of invisibility, but no one has the heart to tell him. The classic
Mad Hatter has been replaced by a scary lady hatter (Kate Shindle, cashing her
paycheck), who is dressed like a Victorian dominatrix and oddly determined to
destroy the just-passing-through Alice. The Queen of Hearts (Karen Mason,
taking a break from Mamma Mia!) is now a
slightly daffy non-threat, who cheerfully orders executions before forgetting
all about them. The White Knight (Darren Ritchie) is a member of a boy band
with his fellow damsel-rescuers, which would be clever if this were still 1998.
And, spoiler alert for anyone who has never seen The Wizard of Oz, The White Knight is played by the same actor as
Alice’s estranged husband, while Mason does double duty as Queen of Hearts and
Alice’s mother-in-law!
Yes, Wonderland is,
as my companion muttered darkly during intermission, “Wicked for people who don’t like to think.” In fact, should
you enjoy being intellectually engaged during a night at the theater, I advise
you to either skip Wonderland or
turn off your brain on the escalator ride up to the theater, because the plot
holes in the script are enough to drive you insane. You see, years ago Alice
was supposed to visit Wonderland, but life got in the way. Now, she’s a harried
teacher who doesn’t have time to pursue her dream of writing, and The Mad
Hatter is (spoiler alert!) Alice’s other half, created out of every heartbreak
and disappointment Alice has ever suffered. And in order for Alice to return to
her home and daughter, she must learn to love herself. She does this by singing
an inordinate amount of treacly Wildhorn ballads, which happily don’t stick
around in your mind for very long.
As Alice, Janet Dacal is a better singer than actress,
though it’s hard to fault her performance given the material with which she
must work. Alice is such a poorly written, navel-gazing character that rooting
for her return home is beyond our powers of empathy. And by the time Lewis
Carroll himself pops up, you’ll be wondering how the hell to get out of Wonderland yourself.
Wonderland, open run, Marquis Theatre, 1535 B’way (betw. W. 45th &
W. 46th Sts.), 877-250-2929; $56.75–$139.75.