Review: & JULIET Fuses Pop and Art at Benedum Center

There's an oft-cited story about Max Martin, the famed songwriter and producer. Allegedly, when he wrote "Baby, One More Time" for Britney Spears, he confused the American idiom "hit me up," aka "call me," for "hit me," aka hit me. With this one poorly-translated lyric, Martin accidentally changed the song from a breakup ballad to an ode to kinky break-up sex. Martin's genius (and it is genius, don't get me wrong) has always been for pairing instantly infectious music with lyrics that only sound right until you poke at them too closely. This is where the cleverness of & Juliet's libretto by David West Read comes in: by inventing scenarios to fit these songs, and often splitting the lyrics into dialogue, it makes sense of what was once senseless. 

The musical follows two intertwining stories: in one, Shakespeare(Corey Mach) and his wife Anne Hathaway (Teal Wicks, soon to be replaced by Shelby Griswold) joust for control of their marriage and the plot of Shakespeare's newest play, a sequel to Romeo and Juliet; in the other, Juliet herself (Rachel Simone Webb) breaks away from her iconic tragedy and asserts control of the narrative. When Shakespeare and Anne write themselves into Juliet's story, things get complicated. And messy. And so much fun. 

Our central trio of characters make for compelling viewing, with Rachel Simone Webb intensely charismatic as both an actor and a singer. She makes Juliet both believable as an incredibly dumb teen, and as an increasingly confident and assertive young woman once Shakespeare and Anne age her up with a quick rewrite. Her singing voice will make you rise up out of your seat, and then knock you back down into it. Corey Mach makes Shakespeare a fantastic underplayed role; he plays the master playwright with what can only be described as Andy Samberg energy. This makes him a perfect sparring partner for his much less laid-back wife. Former Elphaba Teal Wicks holds back her intense, Celine Dion-esque power belt until Act 2, at which point she unleashes it like a tearful typhoon JUST when we'd totally bought her as a whimsical romantic comedy heroine instead. It's merely one of many moments in the show designed to elicit well-won applause from the audience. 

It wouldn't be Shakespeare without love triangles, late-in-the-game character arrivals and gender fuckery, and & Juliet delivers on all of the above, weaving a web of intrigue and desire between Juliet, her nonbinary best friend May (Nick Drake), Juliet's future-ex-husband Romeo (Michael Canu) and French nobleman Francois (Mateus Leite Cardoso). Calling it complicated would be an understatement, but these are four young performers that are absolutely worth keeping an eye on in the future: they're funny, they're light on their feet, and they sing like crazy. And speaking of singing like crazy, the very french Lance, played by Palu-Jordan Jansen, nearly brings down the house with a mixture of laughter and cheers every time he applies his operatic bass-baritone to a legendary pop song. 

The choreography by Jennifer Weber is tight and self-contained; it's one of the first Broadway shows I've seen that successfully roots its choreographic language in the present day. The dance aesthetic's physical tightness in terms of conservation of movement and space covered is clearly designed with the camera's eye in mind, the way studio dancers or TikTok dance influencers choreograph and perform. In keeping with the style, it looks fun and flashy but is not so athletic or presentational that you don't think "I want to go home and try that in front of the camera myself." (I'm FAR from a dancer, but even I could see the appeal in a TikTok trend of the "Roar" dance in particular.)

I don't think I'd be speaking out of pocket if I said some of & Juliet already feels a bit dated: the battle-of-the-sexes banter feels like it's from a 2010s sitcom, and even May's journey through navigating gender and sexuality feels a bit Glee when you mix in the pop songs. But just because it's not cutting edge doesn't mean it's cringe or suddenly problematic: this isn't Chapell Roan we're talking about, this is Max Martin, the guy who made Backstreet Boys and Kelly Clarkson into superstars by mixing contemporary pop production with arena-rock hooks. He's always had one foot in yesterday and another in tomorrow. As for today? At & Juliet, today is always a party. I dare you not to sing along (which technically you shouldn't, but the show definitely encourages in a few moments). But even I can't dare you to leave the theatre without dancing in the aisles.