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Death Becomes Her
Megan Hilty, Jennifer Simard (Photo: Matthew Murphy and Evan Zimmerman) Death Becomes Her By
Marc Miller The musical, with music and lyrics by relative newcomers Julia Mattison and Noel Carey and a funny, mean book by TV writer Marco Pennette, hews quite closely to the Martin Donovan-David Koepp screenplay. Which is both its strength and, we'll get into this, its slight weakness. Once again, glamor-puss actress Madeline Ashton (Meryl Streep in the movie, now Megan Hilty) and struggling writer Helen Shaw (Goldie Hawn transformed into Jennifer Simard), frenemies since college, are reunited after a couple of decades (Madeline: "Hel and I go way back. My God, she's known me since my first nose"), and the claws instantly come out. Helen is engaged to nice-guy plastic surgeon Ernest Menville (Bruce Willis into Christopher Sieber), who mostly does good works for underprivileged children but can also lift a sagging breast, an inducement for Madeline to turn on her well-practiced charms and yank him away from Helen. Soon enough they're unhappily married, with Madeline badgering and dominating him, her default mode, while Helen craters into borderline madness and gobs of therapy. So it's a jolt, unless you've seen the movie, to see her return 10 years later, successfully authoring a tell-all and looking absolutely stunning. Turns out she's a disciple of Viola Van Horn (once Isabella Rossellini, now Michelle Williams-certainly sleek and alluring, but not putting much of a personal stamp on the part). Viola has an elixir that makes aging bodies glowingly youthful, and undying. Helen's taken it, Madeline's about to. The two frenemies are about to be locked in mortal combat over whatever conflict arises, only now they're immortal.
Michelle Williams and Cast (Photo: Matthew Murphy and Evan Zimmerman) Pennette has been unusually faithful to the source material, preserving virtually every twist. He's amended Ernest's ultimate fate-a plus, because it allows us to spend more time with Sieber, who's otherwise very much the supporting player among the three leads. But the focus is on Hilty and Simard, and that's another good thing. Hilty, done up in Paul Tazewell's colorful, spare-no-expense costumes (and they're funny; they get laughs on their own), is a wonder, her timing aces, her vocals blaringly expert, and revealing an unexpected gift for physical comedy. And Simard, how rewarding to see her above the title after so many years of being so good. Countless Forbidden Broadways, the only component keeping Disaster! from being a disaster, the best Sarah ever in Company, and I'm just scratching the surface. Now she finally has a role that shows everything she can do, and everything she can do turns out to be more than we knew. The three leads and Williams so dominate the proceedings that everyone else is listed as "Ensemble," but surely we have to salute Josh Lamon, who inhabits Stefan, Madeline's very-put-upon servant, and wins laughs that aren't even in the script. But the script's plenty jolly, mostly the bitch humor of two divas hurling insults and pushing each other's buttons. Madeline, mock-admiring Helen's dress: "Where'd you get it, Forever 61?" (Laughs while Helen glowers) "Oh, God, laughter. It's so good to laugh with you again." And that's where Pennette's fidelity to the original hits a bit of a snag. Sure, it's funny, and the audience loves it. But Mad and Hel, as they call each other, aren't completely thought-out individuals; they're mostly just vain and selfish and hateful, and that's a somewhat shaky foundation to build a whole big musical on. Yes, as the movie did, Death Becomes Her has things to say about a culture that values youth and beauty and throws pretty much everyone else away, and how capitalism persists in turning human insecurities about appearance into cash. But in the end, we don't like these two, so we don't have a whole lot to root for.
Jennifer Simard, Christopher Sieber (Photo: Matthew Murphy and Evan Zimmerman) As for Mattison and Carey's score, it generally musicalizes the right moments and is also quite laugh-inducing in spots. Madeline's opening number is too delicious to spoil here (and so is Hilty's Playbill bio; wait till you read it), but it stops the show, boosted by Tazewell's quick-change fashion parade. And the lyrics, neater than the current Broadway norm, can be quite clever, even as they explore Madeline's technical restoration: "I've gotta nip and tuck and fill and freeze, and Restylane the lips and Juvéderm the knees." Still, you probably won't exit humming. Relax, though-the fun is practically nonstop anyway. It's an expensive show, with elaborate Derek McLane sets that glide in and out and shimmer under Justin Townsend's ever-shifting lighting. Doug Besterman's orchestrations make Ben Cohn's 18-piece orchestra sound bigger than it is. And the illusions, good Lord, the illusions. Credited to Tim Clothier, who's devised magic for Cirque de Soleil, Blue Man Group, David Copperfield, and others, they're gasp-inducing. Let's not reveal any here; suffice it to say, if you remember the effects in the movie and were wondering how the heck they were going to bring them off onstage... they do.
Taurean Everett and Cast (Photo: Matthew Murphy and Evan Zimmerman) And surely some of the credit for that goes to Gattelli, who keeps the emotions high, the physical business extravagant, and the dancers exhausted. His strong suit here is surprise, multiple moments of how-did-they-think-of-that and I-didn't-see-that-coming. Puppets. Decapitations. Bodies with large holes in their midsections. Death Becomes Her emerges as a big ol' musical comedy, rude and boundlessly energetic and practically guaranteed to turn your brain off for a couple of giddy hours. Warmhearted it isn't, but a good time it is. In times like these, to quote from another, 94-year-old big ol' musical comedy, who could ask for anything more?
Death Becomes Her
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