There’s a formidable dramatic urgency inherent in the new musical by Jason Robert Brown (music & lyrics) and Jonathan Marc Sherman (book) about a young journalist who advances his career by writing fabricated stories for a prestigious magazine. Unfortunately, that dramatic urgency dissipated more than a quarter-century ago, when the true-life events that inspire The Connector took place. Loosely based on the story of Stephen Glass, who ignited a scandal when his made-up journalism for The New Republic was exposed, the show receiving its world premiere at MCC Theater feels both overly familiar and superficial.
The musical’s central character is not really Ethan Dobson (Ben Levi Ross, in a performance too reminiscent of his turn in Dear Evan Hanson), a recent Princeton graduate whose work immediately impresses Conrad O’Brian (Scott Bakula), the veteran editor of the long-published “The Connector.” Rather, it’s Robin Martinez (Hannah Cruz, Suffs, in a strong performance), an assistant copy editor and aspiring writer whose efforts to get her own stories published go for naught. Ethan, on the other hand, instantly becomes Conrad’s protégé and frequent Happy Hour drinking partner, the eager younger man reminding Conrad of his own early days as an ambitious journalist competing with the likes of Tom Wolfe.
Much to Robin’s jealousy and consternation, Ethan quickly becomes the magazine’s new star writer, thanks to his ability to come up with stories involving colorful characters like Waldo Pine (Max Crumm, terrific), a Greenwich Village Scrabble hustler. Prompted by Conrad to up the journalistic stakes, Ethan uncovers a political scandal involving a local mayor and a purported videotape of him smoking crack with a teenager. The source of the video, which only Ethan has seen, has since conveniently disappeared. The new reporter’s work attracts the scrutiny of the magazine’s venerable fact-checker Muriel (Jessica Molaskey, stealing the show), who becomes convinced that something fishy is going on. Her concerns are further prompted by a series of letters by an obsessively attentive reader, aptly named Mona Bland (a very funny Mylinda Hull), who sends in a series of letter pointing out the mistakes in Ethan’s stories.
[Read Roma Torre’s ★★★★☆ review here.]
What should be an engrossing tale of modern-day journalism (well, not really so modern) isn’t particularly well told in Sherman’s superficial book (Brown’s lyrics are actually more insightful). Ethan remains a cipher throughout, his motivations unclear and his ability to fool his supposedly savvy veteran editor less than convincing. The emotional dynamics between him and Robin, which at first seem to have a romantic component, are quickly given short shrift, with the latter mainly reduced to bemoaning the casual sexism and racism that she blames for hindering her opportunities. She eventually decamps to another, much less impressive publication, which has a Hispanic editor (Eliseo Roman).
Even if you’re not already familiar with the real story (not to mention the many similar others, such as that of Janet Cooke), you pretty much know from the beginning what’s going to happen. That wouldn’t matter as much if the characters and situations had been drawn with more depth, but then that would leave less time for Brown’s superfluous-feeling score, which doesn’t really add much to the story. Nicely varied with a variety of styles including jazz, bossa nova and even rap (the composer’s trademark ballads are barely in evidence), the songs are certainly proficient but don’t make much of an impression. Except, ironically, for the numbers “Success,” “Wind in My Sails,” and “The Western Wall,” all revolving around Ethan’s made-up reports, that burst with a vibrant musicality and theatricality effectively conveying the stories’ fabulism.
The show certainly moves along at a sprightly pace during its intermissionless 105 minutes, thanks to the brisk pacing by frequent Brown directorial collaborator Daisy Prince, who’s also credited with conceiving the piece. The band, located atop the stage and conducted by Brown (as he often does), unfortunately frequently drowns out the vocals, especially those of younger leads Ross and Cruz who seem to have projection issues. That’s no problem for Bakula, returning to the New York stage after a long hiatus making big bucks in television series, or Molaskey, who stops the show with her lacerating rendition of “Proof.” Every once in a while, the ensemble engages in the sort of stylized movement (choreographed by Karla Puno Garcia) that’s less reminiscent of actual dancing than mild seizures. Let’s just say that Donald Trump could perform it effectively.
Beowulf Boritt’s scenic design, dominated by a back wall of magazine pages and huge piles of manuscripts at the sides of the stage, provides a striking visual effect at the show’s conclusion. It’s a powerful moment that overshadows the story’s predictable machinations which, despite the creators’ efforts to provide parallels to modern-day biased journalism featuring “alternative facts,” feel redundant. After all, one unscrupulous journalist making up stories to advance his ends doesn’t seem so shocking at a time when entire networks are doing it.
The Connector opened February 6, 2024, at the MCC Theater Space and runs through March 17. Tickets and information: mcctheater.org
