Sarah Silverman’s The Bedwetter, at the Atlantic, is one of those problem plays about a misunderstood child with a physical/medical/emotional affliction—choose one—that further separates her from friends (although she has no friends), family, and everyone. In this case, the underlying problem of the evening is no secret, emblazoned as it is on the title page.
The new musical, in its pandemic-delayed premiere, has quite a lot going for it. Primary on the list of attributes is a most intriguing leading character in Sarah Silverman at 10, as originally limned in the controversial comedian’s 2010 memoir. All at the Atlantic is not a bed(-wetter) of roses, alas. Silverman is working with two collaborators here, and her (very funny) touch does not fully permeate the musical. Rather, it is laced into the proceedings in (very funny) chunks and spurts.
The girl’s true problem, though, is not that she wets the bed; it is, rather, that she is a fish out of water. In Silverman’s parlance, I suppose you might say a gefilte fish out of water. Sarah (Zoe Glick) is the oddball-ugly duckling-brilliant nerd among a family of outcasts. Her parents are, as is typical in this genre, divorced. Donald (Darren Goldstein) owns a small-town discount fashion outlet that plasters the airwaves with cheesy, sexist television commercials featuring the proprietor shimmying like a lox between two 1980-era nubile jingle singers. “Crazy Donny’s Factory Outlet, with prices that won’t make you vomit!” goes the song. So much for rhyming. Beth Ann (Caissie Levy) is so depressed that she rarely leaves her bed, living in a world of television and People Magazine. (Didn’t Neil Simon’s stage mother live in a world of movies and movie magazines?) There is, too, the sociable and altogether normal 13-year-old sister Laura (Emily Zimmerman), and a musical-comedy Nana (Bebe Neuwirth) with a clutch of lacerating one-liners and a spirit-crushing skeleton in the closet.
[Read Frank Scheck’s ★★★★☆ review here.]
They live in Bedford, a small-town in “New Hamp-shuh,” as it is pronounced repeatedly for comic effect (and is, indeed, repeatedly comic). We follow Sarah as she enters a new school following her parent’s divorce, bragging to her classmates that “now I have two houses and, come on, that’s pretty cool.” You know the story: Sarah is immediately ostracized by the white bread locals for being—well, a gefilte out of water. (The child deprecatingly laces her language with deliberately offensive ethnic color, so there is no mistaking.) Sarah does not try out for the cheerleading squad—one cliché avoided—but as soon as the trio of schoolgirl tormentors consider that maybe Sarah is personable enough to join their circle, they discover that big secret of hers. As per the title of this musical comedy. A discovery which, in Silverman’s autobiographical world, is intertwined for comic effect with the shooting death of John Lennon.
The considerably superior second act of this two-hour musical deals with, as you might guess, the severe depression that overtakes Sarah; a fair amount of explanatory backstory, which adds significant emotional heft to the evening; and an unlikely deus ex machina in which Miss New Hampshire springs to the rescue. All of which might well leave you more satisfied during curtain calls than at intermission.
Glick, at 14 already a veteran of Frozen, Les Misèrables, and the like, seizes this exceptional role and demonstrates full-throttle comic spirit. Levy, who starred in Frozen and more recently displayed strong dramatic abilities as Rose Stopnick in Caroline, or Change, goes even further here in the emotional second act. Goldstein, in a perfectly awful toupee, is suitably overbearing as the cringeworthy father with a tragic hurt underneath. Neuwirth, with pairs of Tonys (Sweet Charity and Chicago) and Emmys (Cheers) on her mantle, has been slaying audiences with her zingers since 1980 or so. Here, with a perpetual Manhattan in her rapidly emptying glass, she demonstrates that wry delivery as well as offering an especially lovely song explaining to her misfit granddaughter that “You’re beautiful… to me.”
The remaining adult roles are split between three actors, with results that lift the proceedings just about every time one of them appears. Ellyn Marie Marsh (as the teacher, Ms. Dembo, among other chores) offers neat comic caricatures as well as that delicious New Hampshuh accent. Ashley Blanchet, principally as a glamorous beauty pageant loser, manages to turn her caricature into young Sarah’s savoir. Rounding out the group is Rick Crom, as two highly ineffective doctors, a popular television host, and three other bystanders. There are numerous reasons to go out of your way to see The Bedwetter, so let’s just say that Crom is an unstoppable comic marvel.
All of this is set to a choppy book by stage-newcomer Silverman, in collaboration with accomplished playwright Joshua Harmon (of Bad Jews and this past winter’s exceptional Prayer for the French Republic); and intermittently bright songs by Silverman, who collaborated on the lyrics with the late composer Adam Schlesinger (of Cry-Baby, and one of the theater world’s first Covid victims). Anne Kaufman directs, with often exuberant choreography—including a rambunctious production number populated by dancing Xanax capsules—by Byron Easley.
What is most missing from The Bedwetter, at this point, is a consistent tone among plot, script, and song; the sort of rousing emotional drive which gradually builds, as opposed to appearing in random flashes. David Yazbek, one of today’s finest theatrical songwriters, stepped in to serve as what is billed as “creative consultant,” presumably as an act of loyalty to the Atlantic (which in 2016 originated his Tony-winning The Band’s Visit). Yazbek, who has iconoclastic musical comedy know-how dripping from his fingers, appears to have respected the intentions of Silverman to a fault; maybe too much so. While experience is not a requisite for musical theater making, the combine of Silverman, Schlesinger, and Harmon have—as far as I can tell—only one musical among them; a quick Broadway flop, at that. This musical might well benefit from the kind of rewriting the late Schlesinger could have done if he were sitting in the rehearsal hall.
The Bedwetter is nevertheless a satisfying entertainment of significant promise, sparked by a notable assemblage of performances. If the aspiration is to follow in the path of that other unconventionally outspoken awkward-child memoir-musical, Fun Home, it clearly does not yet succeed. Even closer to home is the Atlantic’s prior musical, Kimberly Akimbo, which is coming to the Booth in October. There is enough originality and emotional heft embedded in The Bedwetter to reach similar heights, yes; but it does not at present shine through.
The Bedwetter opened June 7, 2022 at the Linda Gross Theater and runs through July 3. Tickets and information: atlantictheater.org
