Well, it's next to something, at least...

Window-to-nowhere photo by wonderboynj, who was bolder than I at intermission.
Maybe I should avoid the Booth Theatre. I'd never been there before Dividing the Estate, one of the most excruciatingly bad things I've ever seen, in December. In February I saw the next show in the house, The Story of My Life, the second-fastest Broadway flop I've seen. And now tonight, Next to Normal, which I missed at Second Stage last season but it got retooled and brought to Broadway by D.C's Arena Stage.

It's in the same league as The Story of My Life, perhaps a few steps better. It's not all-around awful, it's just not good either. For a moving story, it's an unmoving show. The music by Tom Kitt isn't bad, but it's not a two-hour show's worth of music. The lyrics by Brian Yorkey vary from bad to so-so. Kevin Adams created another interesting and creative lighting design.

The note I jotted during intermission after wonderboynj observed that it's not as bad as A Tale of Two Cities is that it's not as interesting, either. Upon further reflection I suspect I was crediting TOTC with more interest than it actually had. And TOTC definitely had the moments of "did they forget to stop for intermission?" that this did. But it's certainly of note that a show in which a character who is heavily medicated for her mental illness(es) sings a song about her medications erasing life's highs and lows should come across as lacking in highs and lows itself. It has loud moments, and it's often sung quite fervently, but it doesn't manage to communicate its characters' joys or pains. It had one or two, or maybe three, truly effective moments, but fleeting ones.

Mom's a barrel of mental problems. Dad, Son and Daughter all find their lives difficult as a consequence. Lots of "crazy people are funny" bits until Mom finds meds that work. But finding her life ironed out, she stops the pills, encouraged by Son. With Daughter's Boyfriend over for dinner, Mom pulls out a birthday cake for Son, who it turns out is Mom's delusion since he died as a baby 18 years ago. (This revelation is one of the briefly effective moments.) Following a Son-encouraged suicide attempt, Mom gets talked into ECT, which zaps away Son and a lot of her memory and then wears off enough for her to remember and see him again. She declines further treatment and leaves. Dad, Daughter and Boyfriend vow to go on and find something "next to normal" to live.

It's a real upper of a story, this one. Alice Ripley will at least be nominated for a Tony, since she's giving a pretty fine performance that's the standout, and it's not her fault the show isn't as good as she is. Four of the rest are good; J. Robert Spencer's voice was often grating (Brian D'Arcy James played Dad Off-Broadway, but he's otherwise occupied at the moment).

At times I thought it'd make a decent concept rock album--a dozen or so songs with an implicit connecting narrative. And then it'd be over in 40 minutes or so, rather than going on for two hours through some patches that need fixing or cutting.

Not recommended. If you go and hate it, I'll say "I warned ye!", but I won't go so far as to say you shouldn't go. Other people seem to see something of value here, so maybe you'll be one of them. And I'll try to hold my tongue and only make remarks about your lack of taste behind your back.

Speaking of your back, the Booth is one of the few theatres where you sit with it toward the street. The stage house is shared with the Shubert (where you sit with your back to 44th Street) and they can both load in from the alley. And it just so happens that Blithe Spirit in the adjoining Shubert Theatre gets out moments after Next to Normal. So we dithered a moment and decided to pull over and wait for Angela Lansbury. Ultimately she didn't show (and I declined the opportunity to have another Playbill scrawled on by Rupert Everett), but this time she did send out the door guy with a stack of Playbills already signed (although not enough for everyone...he gave me one, but Brian missed out).