‘1776’ Broadway review: Woke musical is not revolutionary

The script, or book, of the 1969 musical “1776” is a very remarkable creation. 

By Peter Stone, it’s witty, suspenseful, nuanced and confronts the complex issues involved within the founding of america like an addictive TV drama would. “1776,” as written, is just not the Disney’s Hall of Presidents the uninitiated imagine it to be, but an electrifyingly human, theatrical experience. Well, it must be anyway.

Stone’s book can also be, as evidenced by the frustrating latest revival of the show that opened Thursday night on Broadway, absolutely ironclad — and in a position to get up to pointless, auteurist, burdensome, woke concepts just like the one on display on the American Airlines Theatre.

The author’s jokes and taut scenes still play, but only barely.

Co-directors Diane Paulus and Jeffrey L. Page have taken “1776,” which won the Tony Award for Best Musical over “Hair,” and forged women, transgender and nonbinary actors because the Founding Fathers. That’s a tremendous idea for an entire latest show with a unique angle. Lin-Manuel Miranda’s “Hamilton,” in fact, brilliantly reframed Alexander Hamilton, George Washington and others as people of color, with rap as their lingua franca, partially to make the purpose that Hamilton and Co. were immigrants.

“1776,” nonetheless, is an old show — a proudly straightforward musical that ought to caper in regards to the stage until hard-hitting issues like slavery enter in Act 2 — and heavy-handed revisionism doesn’t suit it. As a substitute, the story is bogged down by cartoony, dishonest impressions of dudes and lame attempts to jam in additional meaning by giving condescending glances to the audience.

Not every directorial decision has to have logic, but Paulus and Page’s casting stunt is just not powerfully evocative either, aside from contributing a “take that, you classic musical!” ‘tude. Yet it needlessly harms the core features of the show at every turn.

“1776” imagines the Second Continental Congress in Philadelphia as ornery Bostonian John Adams (Crystal Lucas-Perry, not commanding enough) attempts to persuade his fellow delegates to debate and pursue independence from dastardly Great Britain. Early on, the show bops along like a complicated buddy comedy with Adams, Franklin (Patrena Murray) and Jefferson (Elizabeth A. Davis) convincing men to hitch their plight, after which gets serious as they resolve whether or not to deal with slavery within the Declaration. 

The story is perked up by Sherman Edwards’ sprightly rating, which has been mangled beyond recognition here. He wrote sublime music for tenors, baritones and basses. The number “Cool, Cool Considerate Men,” sung by staunch conservatives, should blow you out of your seat. So should “Sit Down, John,” through which irritated, overheated delegates attempt to get Adams to shut his trap. And “The Egg,” crooned by our leading trio as their Declaration draft is being read aloud for the primary time, is one of the vital rousing tunes in all musical theater. Fight me.

None of them soar here. The awful orchestrations by John Clancy warp the propulsive, 18th-century soundscape into formless, loud, contemporary pop, sung mostly by sopranos and altos who’re an ungainly fit performing them. There are not any intentional places for singers to belt in “1776,” but this reworking aspires to be Katy Perry’s worst album.

The complete evening, Edwards’ rating is skewered.

Videos of vital events in recent American history are projected during “The Egg,” because apparently the music isn’t thrilling enough by itself.

The somber war protest song “Momma Look Sharp” is exploded right into a full-cast “One Day More.”

The one agreeable number is “He Plays the Violin,” nicely performed by Eryn LeCroy as Martha Jefferson.

What the revival amps up most is the problem of slavery, which was already tackled in the unique, so it’s only reiteration.

Edward Rutledge (Sara Porkalob), the representative from South Carolina, won’t comply with independence unless slavery is kept in. Adams and others vehemently disagree, and Rutledge sings “Molasses to Rum,” about how Recent England is just as guilty in relation to the sin of slavery as any Southerner. That number has been, like every part else, placed on steroids and the vital lyrics develop into an afterthought to ceaseless motion. A friend turned to me when it was over and said, “That was really cool. What were they singing about?”

Reviewing the unique in ‘69, Post critic Richard Watts wrote, “On this cynical age, it required courage in addition to enterprise to do a musical play that simply deals with the events leading as much as the signing of the Declaration of Independence … [‘1776’] makes no try and be satirical or wander off into modern by-paths.”  

Hear, hear!

The script, or book, of the 1969 musical “1776” is a very remarkable creation. 

By Peter Stone, it’s witty, suspenseful, nuanced and confronts the complex issues involved within the founding of america like an addictive TV drama would. “1776,” as written, is just not the Disney’s Hall of Presidents the uninitiated imagine it to be, but an electrifyingly human, theatrical experience. Well, it must be anyway.

Stone’s book can also be, as evidenced by the frustrating latest revival of the show that opened Thursday night on Broadway, absolutely ironclad — and in a position to get up to pointless, auteurist, burdensome, woke concepts just like the one on display on the American Airlines Theatre.

The author’s jokes and taut scenes still play, but only barely.

Co-directors Diane Paulus and Jeffrey L. Page have taken “1776,” which won the Tony Award for Best Musical over “Hair,” and forged women, transgender and nonbinary actors because the Founding Fathers. That’s a tremendous idea for an entire latest show with a unique angle. Lin-Manuel Miranda’s “Hamilton,” in fact, brilliantly reframed Alexander Hamilton, George Washington and others as people of color, with rap as their lingua franca, partially to make the purpose that Hamilton and Co. were immigrants.

“1776,” nonetheless, is an old show — a proudly straightforward musical that ought to caper in regards to the stage until hard-hitting issues like slavery enter in Act 2 — and heavy-handed revisionism doesn’t suit it. As a substitute, the story is bogged down by cartoony, dishonest impressions of dudes and lame attempts to jam in additional meaning by giving condescending glances to the audience.

Not every directorial decision has to have logic, but Paulus and Page’s casting stunt is just not powerfully evocative either, aside from contributing a “take that, you classic musical!” ‘tude. Yet it needlessly harms the core features of the show at every turn.

“1776” imagines the Second Continental Congress in Philadelphia as ornery Bostonian John Adams (Crystal Lucas-Perry, not commanding enough) attempts to persuade his fellow delegates to debate and pursue independence from dastardly Great Britain. Early on, the show bops along like a complicated buddy comedy with Adams, Franklin (Patrena Murray) and Jefferson (Elizabeth A. Davis) convincing men to hitch their plight, after which gets serious as they resolve whether or not to deal with slavery within the Declaration. 

The story is perked up by Sherman Edwards’ sprightly rating, which has been mangled beyond recognition here. He wrote sublime music for tenors, baritones and basses. The number “Cool, Cool Considerate Men,” sung by staunch conservatives, should blow you out of your seat. So should “Sit Down, John,” through which irritated, overheated delegates attempt to get Adams to shut his trap. And “The Egg,” crooned by our leading trio as their Declaration draft is being read aloud for the primary time, is one of the vital rousing tunes in all musical theater. Fight me.

None of them soar here. The awful orchestrations by John Clancy warp the propulsive, 18th-century soundscape into formless, loud, contemporary pop, sung mostly by sopranos and altos who’re an ungainly fit performing them. There are not any intentional places for singers to belt in “1776,” but this reworking aspires to be Katy Perry’s worst album.

The complete evening, Edwards’ rating is skewered.

Videos of vital events in recent American history are projected during “The Egg,” because apparently the music isn’t thrilling enough by itself.

The somber war protest song “Momma Look Sharp” is exploded right into a full-cast “One Day More.”

The one agreeable number is “He Plays the Violin,” nicely performed by Eryn LeCroy as Martha Jefferson.

What the revival amps up most is the problem of slavery, which was already tackled in the unique, so it’s only reiteration.

Edward Rutledge (Sara Porkalob), the representative from South Carolina, won’t comply with independence unless slavery is kept in. Adams and others vehemently disagree, and Rutledge sings “Molasses to Rum,” about how Recent England is just as guilty in relation to the sin of slavery as any Southerner. That number has been, like every part else, placed on steroids and the vital lyrics develop into an afterthought to ceaseless motion. A friend turned to me when it was over and said, “That was really cool. What were they singing about?”

Reviewing the unique in ‘69, Post critic Richard Watts wrote, “On this cynical age, it required courage in addition to enterprise to do a musical play that simply deals with the events leading as much as the signing of the Declaration of Independence … [‘1776’] makes no try and be satirical or wander off into modern by-paths.”  

Hear, hear!