Hell’s Kitchen is a distinctly superior entry in the jukebox musical genre, which has been booming in number (if not creativity) of late. Librettist Kristoffer Diaz, he of the highly theatrical and moving wrestling spectacle The Elaborate Entry of Chad Deity, crafts a highly theatrical version of singer-songwriter Alicia Keys’ wrestling with adolescence that is moving throughout.
If it incorporates familiar coming-of-age tropes (overbearing-mother issues, absent-father issues, boyfriend issues, rebelliousness, why-am-I-here questions), it does so with an emotional authenticity that audiences should find easy to embrace. At the same time, Keys’ song hits are artfully woven into the plot, and executed by a first rate creative team.
The title Hell’s Kitchen is something of a misnomer. We hear about the hardscrabble, rough-and-tumble part of Manhattan between 34th and 59th, and from 8th Avenue to the Hudson. We certainly see it in Robert Brill’s ingenious arrangements of scaffolding and platforms, against Peter Nigrini’s arresting photocollage projections. From time to time “Ali” (newcomer Maleah Joi Moon) encounters seaminess of the type the resident adults hope Mayor Giuliani will clean up. (What can I say, the year is 1998, hindsight is 20/20.) Still, most of the action takes place in and around Manhattan Plaza, the fabled apartment complex/enclave known as “Broadway’s Bedroom.” Would the title Manhattan Plaza lack punch? Maybe so.
[Read Melissa Rose Bernardo’s ★★★☆☆ review here.]
Anyway, Manhattan Plaza is the long-time home of artists of all stripes, and it’s where our heroine chafes under the iron fist of mom Jersey (Shoshana Bean), a onetime chorine who wants Ali safe indoors. Natch, that’s a call for the girl to break free. She develops an attachment to a jack-of-all-trades street drummer named Knuck (Chris Lee), prompting a huge to-do at home. But aside from a quick run in with the cops as act one is ending, that’s it for the Perils of Ali.
To say that the story isn’t phonied up with melodramatic incident is a distinct compliment, because what is dramatized – the yearning for purpose of a young person of unfocused energy and inchoate dreams – is not just universal, but at the heart of the score’s poetry. Between Ali’s surly pain, Jersey’s refusal to back down, and Keys’ emotionally charged lyrics, there’s plenty of opportunity for us to feel Ali’s anguish and root for her.
The play’s true “event” begins as Ali is having one of her sulks in her building’s all-purpose meeting room. Elegant as the Grand Duchess in Anastasia, elderly resident Miss Liza Jane (Kecia Lewis, superb) arranges herself at the grand piano, and quick as you can say “Duke Ellington” Ali is hooked. She discovers her soul in music while Miss Liza Jane offers life lessons – again, a familiar trope, but Moon and Lewis are such warm, vital presences that every encounter becomes a high point. You feel as if you’re really in on the birth of a creative gift.
Director Michael Greif is in fine fettle on the streets of Manhattan again (less gritty than in Rent, but we do get a reprise of tub drumming). Keeping the acting believable and smart isn’t hard to do when you cast your show this well. Bean – and Brandon Victor Dixon, an act two deus ex machina as Ali’s wandering dad – are two of the glories of today’s musical theater, and their chemistry is as smokin’ as their acting and singing. (Each seems effortlessly to drop 20 years in a flashback to their courtship.) Lee is a quiet revelation as Knuck, tenderness irrepressible within a rough exterior. And I don’t want to predict too much about young Ms. Moon’s future, if only for fear of jinxing it, but she possesses all the pipes and personal sang-froid to go places. For now, it’s enough to assert that she’s Ali to the life.
Still and all, the secret sauce of this entertainment package is choreographer Camille A. Brown. While many a show highlights athletic, exuberant street dance in all its forms, Brown is determined to tell story through dance. Her ensemble is never there just to show off, but participates to reflect and extend character. As Ali visualizes a future with Knuck, pairs of dancers express her vision; when she issues her independence manifesto through the thrilling “Girl on Fire,” the chorus provides active encouragement. The highlight of much of this Broadway season has been choreography, and Brown’s work ranks among the very best.
Hell’s Kitchen opened April 20, 2024, at the Sam S. Shubert Theatre. Tickets and information: hellskitchen.com
