Schmigadoon!
This Apple may not ripen far from the tree, but it still tastes Truly Scrumptious.
The act two opener of Schmigadoon!, the new Broadway musical based on the Apple TV+ series of the same name, features the luminous Isabelle McCalla singing, “You must always try your best with all of your heart.” These lyrics are not just an example of the show’s frequently pitch-perfect pastiche; they represent the ethos of the entire production. Although its comic point-of-view is decidedly contemporary, Schmigadoon! is as unabashedly well-intentioned and eager to entertain its audience as the Golden Age musicals that it spoofs. The result is—to quote one of the many classics they reference—“something wonderful.”
When the series debuted in July 2021, it was rabidly devoured by a niche and instantly devoted fanbase that was starved for a taste of theatre after more than a year of live performances being suspended due to COVID-19. Initially, I was reluctant to tune in. Its cheeky name—a reference to Lerner and Loewe’s 1947 hit, Brigadoon, about a mythical village that reveals itself to two tourists in need of a lesson—insinuated derision to me, and I didn’t want to see the art form of musical theatre mocked when it was actually in serious peril.
However, as the collective enthusiasm for the show built, I got the sense that it was less a takedown of traditional musicals than a love letter to them. When I finally did watch, I too was instantly devoted. In telling its story of Melissa and Josh—a modern-day couple whose relationship is on the rocks when they’re magically transported to the town of Schmigadoon, where every day is a Golden Age musical—the series combined the sly self-awareness and one-joke-a-second style that I love in Tina Fey’s best writing with spot-on sendups of classic musicals’ most memorable songs and tropes. Yes, it poked fun at a lot of them, but with a tone of affectionate teasing rather than disdain.
The musical remains extremely faithful to its source, essentially relocating the first season of the series to the stage with few changes, which isn’t surprising given that its book, music, and lyrics are written by co-creator and showrunner Cinco Paul. But it’s not a problem: the material is so innately theatrical, it feels less like a new meeting of different forms than a welcome reunion. The sense of continuity is further enhanced by having Christopher Gatelli, who choreographed the TV show’s musical numbers, continue in his role and expand it to encompass direction.
It’s a joyful return to form for Gatelli following the dismal Death Becomes Her. He has an expert’s understanding of classic musicals, as evidenced by his Tony nominations for choreography in South Pacific (2008), The King and I (2015), and My Fair Lady (2018). However, on productions like Altar Boyz (2005), Martin Short: Fame Becomes Me (2006), and SpongeBob SquarePants (2017), Gatelli has simultaneously developed a unique aptitude for tongue-in-cheek comedy and heightened realities. Schmigadoon! requires a mastermind equally comfortable in all these worlds, and Gatelli is one of the few who can rightfully claim to be one. It also allows him to choreograph with the sort of buoyant showmanship that won him a Tony for Newsies, especially in his dances for more-than-just-his-biceps-but-holy-shit-look-at-those-biceps Max Clayton as town “rapscallion and known fornicator” Danny Bailey.
Gatelli’s only missteps as a director reside in some of his casting choices. The recency of the series leaves the entire company open to comparison more than would be the case if Schmigadoon! were an actual revival of an old chestnut. It’s a credit to the preponderance of talent in NY theatre that most of the actors are able either to live up to or exceed memories of the television cast, but a crucial few fall disappointingly short.
McCalla and SNL alum Ana Gasteyer stand out as the clearest improvements on their Apple TV+ counterparts (Ariana DeBose and Kristin Chenoweth). McCalla’s characterization stands out as the most authentically “Golden Age” in the cast; you could plop her down in a production of The Music Man without having to adjust anything she’s doing. It’s a performance full of sincerity and heart that also displays her talents as a true triple-threat. Gasteyer, here on her ninth Broadway show and undoubtedly eager for Tony recognition, is an inspired choice for the town’s morally superior misanthrope. Her years in sketch comedy have honed her ability to make bold choices that quickly convey character, and to mine even small moments for comic gold…who else could send the audience into stitches simply by shushing people? The score doesn’t take full advantage of her former-Elphaba pipes, but she still stops the show with her one big number.
At the other end of the spectrum is McKenzie Kurtz. Playing an Ado Annie-like romantic diversion for Josh, Kurtz does not do anything on stage without commenting on it. It’s an unhinged performance that delights many audience members, but cheapens the proceedings. Clayton also winks a bit too much at the audience; however, it’s not nearly to the same extent as Kurtz, and he arguably makes up for it with his virtuosic dancing. Regardless, I missed the suggestion of genuine melancholy that Aaron Tveit brought to the role (though perhaps that was just his general inexpressiveness as an actor).
Schmigadoon! boasts a deep bench of onstage talent—not to mention an impeccably integrated design concept with smashing costumes from Linda Cho and storybook scenery from Scott Pask. While I want to keep this review a critwink, there are a few more supporting players worth mentioning. Two of Broadway’s most reliable character actors, Brad Oscar and Ann Harada (the lone holdover from the series), make characteristically delightful contributions as the closeted mayor and his dim wife. Ivan Hernandez brings a dashing presence and beautiful baritone to the underwritten role of Melissa’s employer and love interest. Maulik Pancholy’s sweet sincerity as Gasteyer’s husband and sharp comic instincts in a wackier cameo cannot offset his vocal tentativeness. And the gorgeous Afra Hines suffers the adaptation’s most unfortunate omission—Jane Krakowski’s glorious “I Always, Always, Never Get My Man”—in a role that has been reduced to a few lines.
At the center of the production, mirroring the you-win-some-you-lose-some dynamic of the supporting cast, are Sara Chase and Alex Brightman as Melissa and Josh. They’re assured anchors for the musical, admirably playing it straight, despite both having previously enjoyed big successes as outlandish characters (Chase in The Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt, Brightman in Beetlejuice). Unfortunately, they don’t have much chemistry as a pair. Chase is the more essential of the two, smartly balancing her character’s yearning with infectious amusement for the outlandish situations in which she finds herself. Brightman doesn’t do anything wrong per se, but he’s missing two vital qualities that came naturally to Keegan-Michael Key in the series: sexual charisma throughout the story, and puppy-dog vulnerability in its most emotional scene. It’s not a disastrous performance, but Brightman never overcomes his fundamental miscasting, and it prevents the core love story from making the impact that it should.
Consider it yet another aspect of Schmigadoon!’s magic that it bewitches so fulsomely in spite of these shortcomings. They are too significant to forget, but not significant enough to undo the spell cast by so many artists at the top of their game. Schmigadoon! may be an ode to old musicals, but I left feeling hopeful about the future of new ones.
the not-a-bottom line
🌈🌈🌈🌈 (out of five)
a guide to ticket-buying
With so much outstanding choreography, I’d prioritize sitting center over sitting close.
Schmigadoon! is playing at the Nederlander, one of Broadway’s cruelest houses for those of us…on the petite side. The orchestra has only the slightest of rakes, which means shorter patrons will almost always have other audience members’ heads in their line of vision.
As a result, if I could sit anywhere for this show, it would be the first row of the center mezzanine.