The Chronicles of Spider-Man and the Great White Way

Everybody has an opinion about it. I am no exception. It's expanded into the media countlessly and relentlessly over the past couple years and it seems to get more impactful and more repetitive as time goes on. Yes, I am talking about the biggest sensation to land in New York City since god knows what; "Spider-Man: Turn Off the Dark"

[WARNING: This blog post might spoil some things about the show, but it's primarily plot points that you have likely seen in the film.]

I had made an oath to myself that I wouldn't see the show until after it officially opened. But on February 26th, I caved in and got myself a ticket that put me right in the middle of the orchestra section. On my left was a wonderful old lady who also came to the show by herself. On my right was the most annoying family I've ever had the displeasure of spending a time with in the theatre (forgive my poor grammar). And in front of me was the one of the biggest prosceniums I've ever seen in my life.

It is nearly impossible to argue the nature that the show has taken in regards to unending public attention, regardless of it being intentional or unintentional. As a matter of fact, people are unable to comment on the show and only the show itself. There are two performances of "Spider-Man" happening simultaneously every day. The first is the show that Bono, The Edge, Julie Taymor, George Tsypin, and Glen Berger have concocted that takes place in the Foxwoods Theatre eight times a week. The second is the show that the New York Times, Playbill.com, ABC News, Nightline, etc... have created. And everyone has an opinion on both.

So let me digress into the latter. Before the show even dared to start performances, there was the nature of the budget. The number "65 million" is typically attached to the title as if they are joined at the hip. When the number was disclosed, people began to criticize the nature of spending so much money on a show. Thus the new production of "Spidermusical" is opening with the goal of spending $0. I personally have no problem with a show willing to spend 65 million dollars on its budget. The extraordinarily respected director Robert LaPage spent over $220 million on his production of "Ka" with Cirque du Soleil in Las Vegas. And that is one fuck of a show. If you have the option to have (on what seems like) unlimited funds, why not take a stab at it? Every director I know would love to have the option of not worrying about a budget (I guess if the subject of the show was directly related to the topic of "budget" a director would not want to spend much money, but that's again taking the performance outside of the performance).

Secondly, the announcement of the intial casting and creative team also created quite a surprise. Bono writing a musical? Julie Taymor tackling a comic-book hero? Evan Rachel Wood and Jim Sturgess reuniting for a Broadway show? The response from many was either "That makes perfect sense" or "That's totally retarded". I honestly didn't know what to make of it. It sounded intriguing enough. And when they announced the new casting (sans Alan Cummings), I came to the conclusion that this was meant to be a rock show with flying. Reeve Carney was discovered playing with his band for some gig Julie Taymor happened to attend. Between him and U2 creating the show with a woman who was famous for not knowing how to deal with words but was born to handle the visual, it was becoming clearer what kind of "musical" this was going to be.

And then the show started previews. And then the technical problems erupted. And the opening was continuously getting delayed. And then the actors were getting injured (which lead to a million "And then"s from Actors Equity releasing statements of outcry to financial fees to government-funded organizations calling for regulations to public humiliation to...) And then there was the biggest turn for the worst; word spreading that the show was, in fact, pretty god awful.

I must admit that as this "bad press" was growing, I started having a biased affection towards the production. I personally saw something extraordinary in all that was happening with this media phenomenon. First of all, when has a Broadway musical EVER gotten so much attention since The Ed Sullivan Show stopped airing? That alone was rather fascinating. And then there's one of my credos in relation to musical theatre. Ask anyone who knows me. I loudly and proudly uphold the belief that any subject can be the makings of a good musical. And I believe that it's true for any form of art. Many people were saying that the idea of "Spider-Man" should never be turned into a musical. But people also said that about shows like "Avenue Q", "Cats", "Company", and "The Lion King". And whether you liked those shows or not, it's hard to say that they did not find some form of success (from either critics or the general public). And if "Spider-man" found some sort of affection, that obnoxious belief I carry would be encouraged yet again. Also, I do not see the production of "Spider-Man" as an evil capitalist attempt to make money by some scary evil corporation. Broadway is known as one of the most financially risky art endeavors in the world. This is not a personal exaggeration, it's a known fact. God forbid the show doesn't produce at least $1 million per week, the show would be forced to close (and that 65 number would be lost by all that invested). It's not like a movie such as Sex and the City 2 that no matter how bad it was it would still make over $200 million (again, forgive the poor grammar). Or Transformers, where no matter how poorly it's ripped apart by critics, it'll still produce an unbelievable profit. So to call the producers behind "Spider-Man" evil corporate monsters just feels kind of silly. The absurdity in thinking that "Julie Taymor is killing her actors to make money," just sounds like a stupid observation. Didn't one of the producers have an actual heart attack while walking to the meeting in which they would sign the financial contracts? True story (according to Bono anyway).

In shorter words, I was rooting for it in a way. Not in the sense that I was making t-shirts saying "Support Spidey!" But I was rooting for it with the idea that I genuinely wanted the show to not only be successful, but also be good. And thus I'm lead to the reactions I was getting from many friends who were seeing the show. Many close friends of mine, whose opinions I value very much, saw the show and said relatively different things about it. But one thing was unanimous between them: the show was not good. Some liked the visuals, some liked the music, some liked the actors, but no one liked the script. And I became a little disenchanted by it. When being told some of the things that happened during the show, I endlessly scratched my head wondering, "What were they thinking?" And as the show kept delaying it's opening night, the production was gaining more and more notorious publicity. But this actually made me rather hopeful. They weren't opening the show because they felt it just wasn't ready. At first it was because they were still getting used to the space. But then it became about adjusting the story and score. They announced they were making changes.

And now I'm lead to my experience while seeing this show. Again, they announced they were rehearsing every day before performances with changes and adjustments made to the script/score. My only experience in working in a big-budget musical had a similar experience. Even after opening night, myself and the rest of the cast was given a new script LITERALLY at every performance. So I think it's safe to make this claim: Nobody has seen the same version of "Spider-Man: Turn Off the Dark" unless they were at the same performance. Whether it was cutting one sentence or rewriting the entire plot, I'm sure that every performance has seen a change in one way or another (or at least 98% of them). So the following are my thoughts on the version of "Spider-Man" that I saw.

The Foxwoods Theater is epic enough in itself to make you feel as if you are going to be a part of something big. And the enormous and overbearing proscenium also added to this feeling of grandiosity. But when the show started, things were not necessarily looking up. An opening scene that was demanding the audience   to accept heightened melodrama with little to no preparation for it followed by a not-as-funny-as-they-set-out-to-be scene involving the "Geek Chorus" was steadily setting up the idea that the show was going to be rather difficult to get interested in. But the following scene involving the creation of Arachne was breath taking for the eye and the ear. Thus a puzzling paradox erupted about what this show is versus what it could be. At this moment I realized I was judging the show 10 minutes into it. And this is no way to approach a performance. Then again, they made it rather hard to get into.

What followed after Arachne's origin story is almost impossible to describe. While I did my best to avoid judgement, the opening 30 or 35 minutes was so horrendous that I was actually making an effort to hide behind the seat in front of me. The song involving Osborn's lab made absolutely no sense. The scene with the bullies felt like a candy-colored "What not to do at school" video made for the Bear in the Big Blue House. And then there was the absolutely retarded split scene between Peter Parker getting in trouble with his Aunt and Uncle in relation to Mary Jane getting in trouble with her father (Are they actually suggesting that Peter getting kindly scolded for coming home late is equivocated to Mary Jane getting senselessly beaten by her drunken father?)

Once Peter Parker started discovering his power, a tiny glimmer of hope started to shed on this piece of garbage happening before me. "Bouncing Off the Walls" was a song that might not have had the most incredible moment of spectacle in the show, but it was like drinking a five hour energy shot that served as a reminder that things will be happening soon. Actual things. And once again we returned to stupidity with the highly confusing wrestling match and the "once-again-not-ready-for-the-absurd-melodrama" moment of Uncle Ben's death. When he whispered his dying words "Rise above" to Peter, I genuinely laughed.

But if you asked me, Uncle Ben's death served as a metaphor. Apparently Uncle Ben stood for all the complete lunacy that was happening on the Foxwoods stage because after Uncle Ben died, the show started to kick into gear (mostly). After the absolutely gorgeous song sung by Arachne to Peter (humorously enough it's called "Rise Above"), we actually got a chance to see Spider-Man and to put it simply, it was fucking amazing. Sitting in the orchestra section, my heart started pumping vigorously and jaw dropped when Spider-Man first seemlessly flew over the audience. But the flying isn't what got my blood pumping. It was the movement of the show in general and how the story was starting to unfold. The sequence in which Spider-Man started fighting the criminals and saving the civilians was some of the most awe-inspiring theatre I have ever seen. The continuous pulse of the music, the constant swelling and changing in perspective, the movement of our hero both through the audience and into the wings, the clever puppets and maskwork, and the general tempo of the scene all added up to 10 minutes that deserved a standing ovation in itself.

And the show from then on seemed to be on track. The transformation of the Green Goblin and the development of Mary Jane as an actual human being all erupted beautifully, albeit with a brief iffy moment here and there. But my point is that it was a show that eventually had me on the edge of my seat and invested in everything that was going on. And this was the general idea for the rest of the show. I don't want to give too much away, but the story (as bizarre as it turned out to be) was highly intriguing in a positive light. The Sinister Six terrorizing the world proved to be wonderfully affective through highly choreographed media and (again) pulsating music, and this sequence was only complimented by the scenes between Mary Jane and Peter when the power was still out. It was not only watchable, but also... enjoyable? Don't get me wrong, it still had its scant unfortunate reminders of the first half hour. But with the exception of a downright idiotic song in act two sung by Arachne and an ending resolution that we've seen in a million other films/plays, the rest of the show was a relentlessly captivating experience.

The show is nearly three house in length, and it personally felt like only an hour had gone by. If Julie Taymor deserves praise for anything (besides her ability to fuck with perspective and relation to space, whether big or small), it's her ability to keep the show moving. Even with the "iffy moments" that I referenced in the previous paragraphs, the moment had passed all too quickly before I had time to sink my teeth in it. I reiterate, Arachne's bizarre song in Act Two will never make sense to me, and I do not want to try to comprehend why it was there. But the creators of the show made the show so whimsical that there was something new to catch your eye at all times.

It's very clear that there was a specific design aesthetic in relation to "the style of comic books" and that it was reminding us of a story within a story. While it was confusing when the comic book rules didn't apply (why yes for the Daily Bugle staff but no for Peter's Aunt and Uncle?), it still added a sense of whimsy to the general scope of the show. Even the costumes literally showed movement on some of the dresses and jackets.

And then there's the score. As I said in the beginning of this incredibly long blog post, blasting Bono's name all over the show hints at the fact that you are going to get a rock show. And that's exactly what it is. In a stadium rock setting, you hardly ever hear the words. You can still make them out, but that's hardly the goal. The biggest results of a stadium rock show include the pounding music, heavy bass and beastly drum kit, countless electric guitar solos, and more reverb on the actors than our "Blood Brothers" friends across the pond. And 80% of rock songs do not have actual strict rhymes. They never scan. And "Spider-Man" pretty much followed the same rules. However, unlike most rock songs, the tunes aren't that hummable. But this is largely because the general size of the show is the tune you're humming, and that's fine by me.

    

I should start to wrap this up. All in all, I had one helluva good time at "Spider-Man: Turn Off the Dark". It's by far the biggest show I've ever seen in my lifetime ("Ka" comes pretty close) and it's one fuck of an absorbing experience. I compare it to "Wicked". "Wicked" has several moments of making absolutely zero sense (The fucking clock for those who never read the book? Fiyero transforming from academic bad boy/asshole to respectable captain of the guards?) HOWEVER the climbing of the escalators to the seats, the enormous map of Oz in the lobby, the Clock-of-the-Time-Dragon extending up into the balcony, and the POUNDING music of Stephen Schwartz' fantastical pop music makes for one awesome experience. The script isn't perfect, but the experience is thrilling enough. "Spider-Man" feels rather similar. The script has moments of pure idiocy, but the show itself has moments of pure exuberance. During the curtain call when Spider-Man landed on the balcony, the crowd surrounding him was cheering for him at the top of their lungs, just as if you were actually in Times Square meeting the real Spider-Man. How cool is that!? Clearly Spider-Man was designed for its experience, not for its mental stimulation. Just the physical. Too bad its experience is also including years of miserable press.

If I was forced to put a stamp on it, or a letter grade of some sort, it would probably be a C+ or B- or something along those lines. Again, I must reinforce that I saw a performance that nobody else saw. With changes that existed only for that one show, or that one week. Even scenes that were kept the same might have been explored in different contexts (When friends described the fashion show, it sounded rather stupid. But the few lines of text that set it up might have added to something that made me... get into it?) If you ask me, the show does need much work. But not as much as I thought it would prior to seeing it. One thing is clear, Julie Taymor is a master of telling a story when words are not involved. It actually makes me wonder what it would be like if there was no singing/speaking at all. Now they just need to figure out how to deal with some of that terrible expositioning (and possibly a more original ending). I hope they keep postponing the "opening" date, or whenever they decide to freeze the show. I would much rather they did the show well instead of quickly. Some performers/directors spend years and years and years cultivating a play. And when you think about how "Spider-Man" couldn't afford (ha!) an out-of-town-tryout (understandable), it's not completely strange to spend so much time rehearsing in a full performance setting. Now's not the time to give up on this show. Even with so much "terrible" in the performance I attended, I saw so much of something extraordinary that I had never seen before. And I'm thrilled that another director is teaming up with Taymor. Philip William McKinley should hopefully add something great (even if "The Boy From Oz" felt pretty bland albeit Hugh Jackman). And now it's been confirmed that Taymor IS in fact staying on the creative team, which is reassuring (especially after yesterday's rumors that she was "fired").

I can't wait to see it again after it has officially opened. I hope they fix the garbage and keep the extraordinary. Long story short, even after seeing the show, I still believe in Spider-Man. Who knows? Maybe Uncle Ben (the metaphor) may never live to see the light of day again after it's opening. And that would be something to marvel about (pun intended).