Smash Broadway Reviews

*CRITIC'S PICK* As the plot touches down for its perfect landing, I was surprised again by the turn of events. Not only the ones in the plot but also the ones well beyond it. ‘Smash’ the musical is a kind of reclamation of ‘Smash’ the series, and probably a kind of revenge as well. You won’t see the program credit for Theresa Rebeck, the series’ creator, without a microscope. For some fans, the changes may feel like a desecration. For the rest of us, a real musical comedy is a cause for celebration; most are either too tuneless to be musicals or too dull to be comedies. The true mystery of ‘Smash’ is how such a messy makeover produced such a sterling example of both.

Smash is tragically afraid of being bad - and worse, it wants to be respectable. Funnily enough, back in Smash’s open workshops last year, the show ended in a major character’s death. That is, to be clear, an insane way to end a musical comedy. It’s also way more compelling than the ending the Smash creative team has put onstage after all the rewrites, one that risks nothing.

Somehow, I enjoyed the overall experience of Smash. Aside from Ashmanshas and a few diverting numbers, the show is undeniably unmoored. But isn’t that ultimately true to the brand? This production embraces failure; it hugs its own shambles. And for diehard Smash appreciators, perhaps that—in a meta way!—is right for the material: Part of the appeal of Bombshell has always been that it had bomb written right into it. To be fair, this production isn’t really a bomb; it doesn’t go hard enough for that. It’s the shell of a bomb.

But as they extend into the second act, the busy convolutions of the plot—will Ivy, Karen or Chloe ultimately win the role of Marilyn, and does one really care?—become repetitive and mildly preposterous, even for the purportedly madcap world of showbiz.

Loosely adapted from a short-lived television series, this musical comedy about the making of a musical is full of showstopping songs and powered by a phenomenal cast.

That blend of repetition and freshness in Susan Stroman’s production is all a bit of a head rush, frankly, and fans of ‘Smash’ won’t be sure whether they are supposed to be looking at things anew or enjoying a nostalgic rerun. I suspect the cast was never sure, either. Thus, the new product ends up in that ever-dangerous no-man’s land, fully landing nowhere, bereft of a palpable reason for being.

Due to all the tweaks, alterations, and differences in performance, some originalists may prefer to just watch the TV show online. But there are some in this world who will always love the magic of live theater and will delight in the sounds of the full orchestra, preferring to hear each belted note and to see each glittering gown and high kick in person. After all this wait, it is undeniably thrilling and deeply enjoyable to experience these beloved songs on stage, and to get some more time with this dramatic band of thespians. So for those fans dying for more Smash content, this musical will absolutely scratch that (more than seven-year) itch; for those uninitiated, this production offers a high-energy, fun musical comedy with a phenomenal score. Either way, it is, in fact, what you’ve been needing.

Now, the metamorphosis is complete: Smash has made it to Broadway, as an actually good musical about the troubled production of a bad musical about one of the most troubled celebrities of all time. With a book by Bob Martin and Rick Elice, this iteration of Smash is, in fact, even more meta than advertised... The musical stands on its own as an entertaining, competently made and performed show on the agony and ecstasy of musical theater – this time, with self-awareness.

Perhaps most perplexing about Smash, though, is its weirdly cynical, ungenerous take on the Bombshell herself. For a musical, and a musical within a musical, that gives lip service to her cultural value, Smash: The Musical treats Monroe as a perpetual punchline. Ivy-as-Marilyn is an inconsiderate, amphetamine guzzling faux-intellectual whose devotion to the acting craft is presented as a vainglorious affectation. This Marilyn is without even a smidge of the sweetness and vulnerability that features in even the most cliched takes on the icon. Hurder does her best with what she’s given, but we leave Smash: The Musical baffled as to what all the fuss was about.

What absolutely nobody was asking for was the abomination that just opened at the Imperial Theatre as Smash, a polished dud that unfolds like a jukebox musical recycling the best of Shaiman and Wittman’s catchy tunes from the series with a brand-new book (by Bob Martin and Rick Elice) that’s only loosely connected to its characters — or to any semblance of reality as we know it.

The second act of ‘Smash’ hinges on which actress will end up playing Marilyn on opening night. Frankly, we don’t care, because the show is loaded with many songs for each of them to sing. Too many. In the second act, the female empowerment anthems become numbing, since each is delivered as a showstopper. How many times can a show be stopped before it actually stops?

Smash has a ruthlessness that’s hard to believe exists in the PR’d universe of modern theater, and it does sometimes curdle. There’s an ickiness to Ivy’s story, where a woman attempting to self-actualize and improve herself is treated as an impediment. But Hurder finds humanity in her worst behavior, and gets to stalk deliciously around the stage in a fur coat and shades (Alejo Vietti did the spot-on costumes).

Written farcically as a quasi-realistic cartoon, the showbiz shenanigans of Smash are meant to amuse, of course, but the unhappy complications of the script soon prove obvious and tiresome. A satirical plot thread mocking the taste of young, clueless influencers gets repetitious. Witnessing darling Ivy twist into a doped-out bitch is sad and doubly so since this crucial plot device dishonors Monroe’s legacy.

It’s overstuffed with silliness like that, and Susan Stroman, who usually has some clever tricks up her sleeve, isn’t able to rein this one in. Her direction wants Smash to be a smash with lots of show-stopping numbers featuring over-amped singers fit for American Idol. But it feels more like a parody of an old-fashioned musical that loses its way with every nutty idea thrown into the mix. And that’s unfortunate considering the A-list roster of talent involved in this production.

But beyond that, is Smash a love letter intended for fans of its screen counterpart, even though the characterizations are all different? Is it one big in-joke for theatre avids, even though they get roasted in equal measure? Is it a scandalous peek behind the curtain meant to show Broadway newcomers this industry is just as juicy as Hollywood? Smash, under Susan Stroman's direction, isn't sure.

"Smash” can be viewed as a thought-provoking experiment in cross-platform adaptation. Do the musical numbers, now that they’re actually on Broadway, feel less legitimate than they did when they were part of a TV show? Is the theatergoing experience now confused or undermined by the clash of tones between the relatively straightforward musical numbers and the flippant, farcical scenes in-between them? … If it’s not interesting enough as a musical, why are they asking us to invest our time and emotion in the fiction of making it?

Similarly indecisive, ‘Smash’ is on the fence as to whether ‘Bombshell’ is a good or bad musical. That should have been action item No. 1. [...] But the only reason ‘Smash’ is on Broadway right now is because Shaiman and Wittman’s songs from the series still have admirers. Why, then, are the fictional composers depicted as unreliable hacks who no one seems to believe in? It makes no sense. Nothing does.

Smash exists to sing the praises of the many, many talented people on and off the stage that it takes to bring a blockbuster musical to life. As much as I loved that mess on NBC, it’s clear Smash belonged on Broadway all along.

Smash lives up to its name with an over-the-top theatricality and cheekiness that pulls back the curtain on the business of Broadway with a wink and a nod.

This misbegotten, meshugana mess wastes the talent of a top-notch cast and an often-delightful score from Marc Shaiman and Scott Wittman, not to mention 2 ½ hours of your time.