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Teeth
Teeth By David Schultz Who could have guessed that a grade B horror flick could
be transmogrified into a musical? With Teeth, Anna K. Jacobs (Book &
Music) and Michael R. Jackson (Book & Lyrics) have done just that, with
decidedly mixed results. Vagina Dentata
(Latin for "toothed vagina") describes a folk belief in which a woman's vagina
is said to contain teeth, with the associated implication that sexual intercourse
might result in injury, emasculation, or castration for the man involved. These
folk stories are often told as cautionary tales warning of the dangers of
unknown women and to discourage rape. What better time to feature this ancient myth than now, with
our current #MeToo movement, adding a musical score to the mix. On paper it
sounds intriguing, riffing off the original 2007 horror flick directed by
Mitchell Lichtenstein. For most of the evening, Teeth has an
irreverent, profane vibe, like a sacrilegious amusement park ride poking fun at
the evangelical Christian community that it portrays with withering snark. The
musical follows the young people of a cloistered town named Eden, in
particular, Dawn (Alyse Alan Louis) who prizes her virginity. She is the de
facto leader of a church youth group led by her pastor stepfather (Stephen
Pasquale) and keeps company with her fellow Promise Keeper Girls - all vowing
to not be led astray. Dawn's moody stepbrother Brad (Will Connolly) lurks about,
brooding on a past indiscretion with Dawn that gives a sly hint to what will
follow, and joins an online group called Truthseekers
who whine about the "feminocracy". Dawn's hunky
boyfriend Toby (Jason Gotay), also paying lipservice
to chastity, is a constant temptation to Dawn. But she holds steadfast to her
purity. Then there's the in-the-closet gay pal, Ryan (Jared Loftin), who posts
explicit videos of himself online, yet later attempts to connect with his inner
straight persona. Much of the early section of this musical is jokey and
filled with excessively X-rated lyrics spun through with shockingly melodic
music. The audience is primed, not unlike the film Jaws, waiting
queasily for the moment when the teeth open up to take their first bite.
Alyse Alan Louis and Jason Gotay. (Photo: Chelcie Parry) It finally happens when Dawn and Toby attempt to
rebaptize their pledge of chastity in a lake. They coyly kiss, then their passions
are aroused as desire overwhelms Toby and he gets closer; his erection rubs
ever so closer and he enters her, creating a hitherto unknown pleasure for
both. Right then, her vagina dentata snaps into place with the first (of many)
penis chopper moments. The ensuing violent repercussions spiral into more dark
parody that is fueled by the increasingly manic choreography by Raja Feather
Kelly. In a knowing nod to the Dentist episode in Little
Shop of Horrors, gynecologist Dr. Godfrey (again Mr. Pasquale) gives our
heroine a much-needed exam to see what is "under her hood." That gleeful razzmatazz
number, both sinister and oddly amusing, ends -- you guessed it -- with another
dismembered member. As the last thirty minutes rolls to its fiery
conclusion, the musical leans into its excesses and goes out of control. The
other young girls in the chastity group, alarmingly, grow their own inner teeth
and go on a rampage. The thinly veiled connections to the ancient Greek dramas Lysistrata
and The Bacchae are suddenly laid bare. The fun and wifty comedic sense of what came
before dissipates and the demonic hellscape of the final moments are shown in
bold relief. Fire & brimstone indeed. Walls collapse; real fire erupts
onstage. These girls have grown their intimate desires and their teeth
exponentially. There is no going back. No man is safe. Minimalist
set design by Adam Rigg features a red area with an oblong platform that rises
and lowers. In the background glows a neon cross that changes color to match
the sensual heat of the young people. In one scene, that platform lowers even
further to become the misty, dark shrouded lake that will jump start the events
of Dawn's doom-laden experience.
Courtney Bassett, Helen J. Shen, Lexi Rhoades, Alyse Alan
Louis, Wren Rivera, Phoenix Best, and Jenna Rose Husli
(Photo: Chelcie Parry) Lighting
design by Jane Cox and Stacey Derosier appropriately plays with glaring light
and darkness when sinister moments rear their heads, shielding our eyes from
seeing in full the bloodied men's members as they are held aloft and then flung
about. Costume
design by Enver Chakartash dresses the girls in
modest attire that transforms into garish, goth-inspired garb in its final
hellish scenes - they are now dressed as the vestal virgin acolytes of Vagina
Dentata herself, the Goddess of Dismemberment. Director
Sarah Benson initially has a sure grip on the inherent black comedy of the early
scenes, but the frantic, manic conclusion seems rushed to make its point in a
heavily political statement that contradicts all the fun that started the
evening in the first place. Most likely the audience attending this
vagina dentata musical will have strong stomachs and a wily, demented sense of
humor. The production has had an underground swelling of a cult-like following
and is on its second extension. This evil spawn of a show, comingling of
aspects of Carrie and Little Shop of Horrors, goes way over the
top with its girl-power-teeth mythology. At this point -- or way before it -- one
either goes along for the ride or has made a hasty exit. The fact that the
production has been extended twice speaks volumes. Cult hit status has already
reared its head. Men, guard your gonads! For the fainthearted stay home. Other,
more daring patrons can and should pony up and see what most likely to be the
most talked about off-Broadway show of the spring season. Playwrights Horizons Main Stage 416 West 42nd Street (212) 564-1235 Through April 28th 
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