There’s no shame in admitting it. A show entitled The Bedwetter doesn’t exactly inspire thoughts of leaving the theater humming happy tunes. Especially when its titular character, a ten-year-old girl, has a vocabulary that would make a Merchant Marine blush. So it comes as a bit of a surprise that this new musical adapted from comedian/actress Sarah Silverman’s best-selling memoir emerges as not only one of the funniest but also the sweetest shows in town.
The musical is being given its world premiere by the Atlantic Theater Company, which seems to be on a roll these days considering its last musical offering, Kimberly Akimbo, is headed for Broadway this fall. This show may achieve a similar trajectory, even with its off-putting title. On the other hand, a little show called Urinetown did pretty well, if memory serves.
The Bedwetter features a roster of heavyweight talents, both on and offstage. Silverman herself co-wrote the book with playwright Joshua Harmon (Bad Jews, Significant Others, Prayer for the French Republic) and the lyrics with composer Adam Schlesinger (Cry Baby, the pop group Fountains of Wayne), who died tragically at age 52 of Covid and whose music for this show represents his final project. David Yazbek (Dirty Rotten Scoundrels, Tootsie, The Band’s Visit) serves as “Creative Consultant,” with his offbeat brand of humor permeating the proceedings. Off-Broadway innovator Anne Kauffman directs, and the cast includes such veterans as Caissie Levy, Darren Goldstein and Bebe Neuwirth.
[Read Steven Suskin’s ★★★★☆ review here.]
But the MVP has to be Zoe Glick, who uncannily channels Silverman with her precociously hilarious performance as the ten-year-old Sarah who’s traumatized by her nighttime habit. Sarah has a lot else to contend with as well. Her parents are divorced, with her severely depressed mother Beth Ann (Levy) spending her days in bed and her father Donald (Goldstein) bedding every woman who walks into his discount clothing shop. Her older teenage sister Laura (Emily Zimmerman) is embarrassed to be seen with her, and her grandmother, Nana (Neuwirth), is a serious alcoholic.
Sarah narrowly avoids disaster when she has a bedwetting accident during a sleepover with her trio of school friends (child actors Charlotte Elizabeth Curtis, Charlotte MacLeod, Margot Weintraub, all making impressive Off-Broadway debuts). But things go from bad to worse when Nana accidentally exposes Sarah’s problem, causing her to refuse to go to school and depressedly join her mother lying in bed. Her desperate father takes her to both a hypnotist and psychiatrist (both amusingly played by Rick Crom, who handles several other roles as well), with unfortunate results. It’s not until Sarah triumphantly manages to find her inner comic voice that she succeeds in overcoming her personal travails.
The quirky proceedings won’t be for all tastes, especially those offended by a little girl delivering dirty jokes with the aplomb of a seasoned nightclub comic. Not all of the gags land (a line referencing John Lennon’s assassination falls flat), but most of them do, with nearly nonstop hilarity. At least until Act 2, when the tone becomes somewhat darker while still maintaining a comic edge.
Despite the material’s broadness, Silverman and Harmon provide genuine emotional beats to the storyline, with the result that we come to care about all of the major characters despite their not inconsiderable flaws. Much of the credit also goes to the performers, who take their roles and run with them with infectious comic gusto. Beside the aforementioned, there’s also Ellyn Marie Marsh, riotous as Sarah’s beleaguered grade-school teacher, and Ashley Blanchet, a hoot as a Greek chorus-like “Miss New Hampshire” who serves as Sarah’s frequent inspiration.
The score isn’t particularly memorable, but it’s consistently tuneful, with each of the lead performers generously accorded showcase numbers. Neuwirth employs her droll comic timing to perfect effect in “To Me,” Levy shines in the sweetly affecting “Your Father and I,” and Goldstein delivers a virtuoso Vegas crooner-like turn in the ribald “In My Line of Work.” Kauffmann’s fast-paced staging is filled with imaginative touches, such as the dancing Xanax tablets accompanying the psychiatrist’s musical promise of better living through chemistry.
It’s fourteen-year-old Glick, however, who carries the show on her not very large shoulders. Resembling a Mini-Me Silverman in both looks and vocal delivery, she makes fully credible the notion that her character will grow up to become the raunchy but endearing performer who’s managed to turn her childhood trauma into a winning musical comedy.
