Those with fond memories of Speakeasy's production of Michael John LaChiusa's version of "The Wild Party" a few season's back here in Boston, not to mention the national tour, are liable to be slightly disappointed in Andrew Lippa's approach to the same material. Not that " the New Rep's current production just could be the sharpest and most energetic small music theatre presentation of the season, but that Lippa's one-man show (book, music, and lyrics), from "Queenie was a Blonde" to "How Did We Come to This?" seems something of a pastiche. He's tried to meld the jazz and music theatre sounds of the Roaring '20s with contemporary styles with mixed results. The script also concentrates on four principal characters, leaving the rest of Moncure's menagerie mostly as background. None of the four, the dancer, the clown, the singer, or the doorman are particularly well motivated.
First there's Queenie, the archetypical blonde nightclub dancer, played Marla Mindelle, the center of most of the numbers, bored after three years living with Burrs, a vaudeville clown with a dark side. Burrs gives Todd Alan Johnson, seen as Mac the Knife previously at the New Rep a chance to play full-throttle. The other woman, who shows up for the party is Kate, a nightclub singer and old friend, played by Sarah Corey, who appeared in "Caroline or Change" as Mother, with an agenda to break things up. She's accompanied by Black, played by Maurice E. Parent, seen last season as Coalhouse in "Ragtime." He and Queenie hit it off, Sarah vamps Burrs, and tragedy ensues. But the major motivation behind it all seems to be terminal boredom, not a particularly dramatic emotion.
The rest of the characters are given somewhat short shrift, though Leigh Barrett as Madeline True, Lesbian, has the show's most memorable number, the solo "An Old Fashioned Love Story." Big Jake Mosser and petite Ilyse Robbins as Eddie the Prizefighter and Mae, his diminutive partner, have their own musical hall number, "Two of a Kind" but no plot, and Phil the Broadway producer, played by local cabaret favorite Brian De Lorenzo, is really just part of the ensemble. Director Rick Lombardo has assembled a fine ensemble and choreographer Kelli Edwards generates a lot of erotic heat from them, with the help of Betsy Adkins and Ilyse Robbins as Dance Captains, but everything seems too predictable. One could only wish that all this talent had stronger material to work with, It's a show certainly worth watching, there are effective and challenging musical moments, masterfully handled by music director Todd C. Gordon, but the aftermath isn't a hangover, but rather like a large dinner of Chinese takeout where everyone ordered their favorites, a lot got sampled, but the result wasn't particularly satisfying. The ending is typical. When Queenie, whose world has crashed around her, should be waiting for the cops, she sings a rather moralizing power ballad, and exits into the night. End of show; no sirens, no cops.
The design for "The Wild Party" is uniformly superb with a mirror filled set by IRNE winner Janie E. Howland which also features a huge poster of Burrs, spot-on period costumes by IRNE winner, except for some rather substantial '50s lingerie by Frances Nelson McSherry, and effective contemporary lighting by IRNE winner Franklin Meissner, Jr. Properties by Erik D. Diaz and a number of small movable pieces, notably the brass bed and the bathroom give a sense of Queenie and Burrs' hermetic world. All that's lacking is the author's dramatic arc, despite the best efforts of all involved. Queenie doesn't dance that much, Burrs isn't ever very funny. Kate's numbers, especially "The Life of the Party" seems too similar, and Black is more an exotic relief than a strong rival. The show comes off as an entertainment rather than a tragic comment on wasted lives or even an indictment of amorality.