The musical “Redwood,” which opened on Thursday at the Nederland Theatre, features two fantastic stars. One is the power to inspire nature's adoration. The other is a tree.
The Power of Nature is Idina Menzel, who sang 13 of the show's 17 songs, seven of which are essentially solo. Has anyone ever grown hair so tirelessly?
But the magnitude of its role is nothing compared to its emotional complexity and the depth of Menzel's immersion. Her Jesse is a sadistic mother entitled Walking Panic Attack, Evasive Overtalker, and Princess. Even more surprising, she does all this at once, and right from the start. We had a terrible loss in the rearview mirror, speeding westward from New York City, meeting her, who had no idea where she was going.
But we know. The musical by Tina Landau (book, lyrics, direction) and Kate Diaz (music and lyrics) has additional contributions from Menzel herself and is not named “Redwood.” Soon Jesse meets another star, a giant tree grove near Eureka, California. She is 14 feet wide, 300 feet tall, and 300 feet tall, if not millennium, because she is also named Stella, not just Jesse's gender.
I'm sure Redwood is great in real life. I've never seen it. But the trees placed on stage by Landau and her designers are one of the most beautiful and incredible theatrical works I can remember.
Like Menzel's Jesse, Stella is multifaceted. Her trunk rotates in place like an animated Richard Cera sculpture (a landscape of Jason Aldizone West). An epic video by Hana S. Kim renders her towering branches swirls on a series of 1,000 immersive LED panels. With flickering sunlight and a canopy of stars (by Scott Zielinsky) and rustling and witch soundscapes (by Jonathan Deans), it gives her something that feels like an inner life. Sometimes she seems to be dancing – and yes, she sings a kind of song.
If this is starting to sound a bit woooo, welcome to “Redwood.” Still, it surrounds them in an unusual story. In avid flashbacks along the road, Jesse discovers that Mel, the wife of a photojournalist, is a gallerist, her emotional opposition. (Mel, playing with the great warmth of DeAdre Aziza, Jesse says she has “foots on the ground” while holding “head in the clouds.” Tragic in 23 Death (who doesn't learn more until the second half of the show) disrupts the marriage.
It was just before the anniversary of that tragedy that Jesse bolted the bolt. She is pathetic and undesirable at first. When she runs into Canopy Arboristphin (Michael Park) and Becca (Kyla Wilcoxon), she ruthlessly ignorantly vomits them about Stella. Upstream of the tree, Jesse decides it and demands that it climb.
Her instinct that peace and rest might await me at Stella's branches is what I usually find a full Rooney. But there's something about the way Menzel builds characters (and the way Landau builds trees). Like the underwater environment landau approaching for the 2017 SpongeBob SquarePants musical, the Redwood canopy is even more globally welcomed, with vertical choreography by Merecio Estrella, rigging and carabiner, eyepopping Includes upside down Arab Arabic styles. It seems to take your breath away. But of course, it's not for Menzel singing all over.
This is not just a view. Rejoice in Stella's gentle dignity and understand Jesse's constitutional lack and almost forgives him. She is at least in herself. Advertises her fitness to rise with a song called “Mountain Climbing,” she sings. I can do a downward-facing dog /'Because I once did yoga in my old synagogue. ”
It also helps that she has an arborist as a foil. Park makes Finn a charming, former hippie mountain man, but he's more generous with Jesse's quest. Because he found comfort in Redwoods from his own tragedy. With the help of Toni-Leslie James' telegraph costumes, they have a lovely contrast of warm awakening. It's just as amazing feat as Wilcoxon would make such a line in any way. interesting.
There is less thing an actor can do about overrely relying on Wikipedia's dramaturge. “Did you know that Redwood is one of the most fire-resistant species in the world?” Finn asks Jesse, adding that they won't die from fire, but that's what they need. (Fire opens their cones and leaves seeds out.) Later, they are taught that although their roots are surprisingly shallow, they intertwined and “lock together.” Sometimes, this type of dialogue gives “Redwood” the feeling of passing through the distinctive Ringer, anthropomorphized Discovery Channel documentaries.
The metaphor is not saying it's not appropriate for the characters or for us. Like Stella, Jesse must learn to use the fire of sadness in her case, rather than die from it. Doing so involves re-examining yourself with a community of trees or other existences of the couple. It's certainly a good lesson, but it could be better just as the show remains silent.
We don't actually want silence from the musical, except that “Redwood” plays boring play. Luckily, whenever the book wafts into the genre's familiar proportions, the song brings it back to the wild, unstable mind. Diaz's Rangy and driving music has an instant curb appeal, but with the quality of the terrifying quest that provides the big ending you need without a PAT solution. Other characters also get a strong definition of numbers, all sung beautifully.
And you must now praise the courage needed to do a deep and serious show on Broadway about trauma and resilience. At the beginning of what could prove to be a fugitive age, “Redwood” is both internal and cosmology, taking the soul and the world very seriously. Luckily, it offers great joy along with its factoid. And if there are obstacles, at least they are not on evergreen stars.
Redwood
At the Nederland Theatre in Manhattan. redwoodmusical.com. Running time: 1 hour 50 minutes.
