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The New York Musical Theatre Festival 2015
Specifically, it's apparently not sure whether it's supposed to be about Napoleon Bonaparte, the infamous Emperor of the French who met his legendary defeat at Waterloo in 1815, or the man who built him up from nothing, Talleyrand. And because of this, neither the solid direction of Richard Ouzounian (with whom, in the interests of full disclosure, I have in the past had some professional and personal dealings) nor the killer cast he's assembled can make the material as jolting as it looks and sounds like it should be. After being plucked from military obscurity by Talleyrand (Matthew Patrick Quinn) due to his planning prowess, Napoleon (Joseph Leo Bwarie) gradually overpowers and eventually replaces Paul Barras (Ryan Speakman) as leader, and assumes control of Barras's mistress Josephine (Margaret Loesser Robinson). But it's not long after crowning himself Emperor that his trajectory takes a downward turn, and he begins making the mistakes that lead him to one humiliating defeat after another in both his personal life and the field of battle, until not even his sanity remains intact. Structured and written along unapologetic Les Misérables lines, these sections of the show (particularly early on) thrill with their energy and drive. They're filled with sweeping sections of sung dialogue, anthems of revolutionary fervor, and coruscating choruses that adroitly capture the chilling import of these events. (The expert musical direction is by Joshua Zecher-Ross.) The first act finale, which blends the portentous "Timor Mortis" with the darkly defiant "Sweet Victory Divine," is as arresting in its music as its drama; "The Dream Within," sung by Napoleon and his eager junior, Anton (Jack Mosbacher), is a captivating first cousin to "One Day More" in style, scope, and impact. Unfortunately, none of this is allowed to bloom to its fullest expression. Seemingly half the scenes—including, most maddeningly, the very first (following a brief flash-forward prelude set in Waterloo)—are interrupted by Talleyrand's monologues to the audience explaining, well, the context behind everything that's happening, and urging the plot in the direction he (and, one assumes, the writers) believe is most valuable. These monologues are explosively static, and feel like nothing more than ways to absolve the writers of greater, more difficult (and potentially more financially challenging) narrative responsibilities. So extensive is Talleyrand's non-contribution contribution, in fact, that he defuses what tension the more expansive musical scenes are able to create. The 1980s and 1990s British pop operas on which the superior portions of Napoleon are clearly modeled never stopped the action, no matter what. Talleyrand's endless, listless speeches play like an excuse to keep the action here from starting. A program note states that the Talleyrand additions are a relatively new feature in the history of Napoleon (which has been kicking around for at least 15 years), but Sabiston and Williams have not made them feel at all necessary. In fact, Talleyrand himself seems extraneous to the point of useless when he's not participating in the bigger, higher-stakes scenes, which he only infrequently does. If the show is to be told from Talleyrand's perspective, he must be integrated with the action in a way he's not now. Giving the character so many lines disconnected from what surrounds him doesn't do the trick. Not helping things is that Quinn gives a bored, halfhearted performance in a company that bursts with charisma and searing vocals. Bwarie, currently starring as Frankie Valli in Jersey Boys on Broadway, is a dynamic presence who brings to the part a canny combination of anger and devotion, and sings with compelling force. Robinson, statuesque and no-nonsense as Josephine, is nearly his equal, and makes the most of her underwritten part. Barras is a bit of a flavorless villain, but Speakman plays him with a lively, juicy sneer. Mosbacher sings superbly as Anton and makes the tragic young man a moving symbol of what's loss under Napoleon's reign. The other performers are more variable: Christopher J. Nolan finds intriguing emotional shading in Napoleon's daring brother, Lucien; Wilson Bridges as Josephine's illicit lover and Danielle Gimbal as Anton's dopey beloved, Clarice, seem in over their heads. Ouzounian's crisp, paperback-epic staging and strong focus ensure that nothing completely obscures the work's latent promise, though several things try. The lyrics are occasionally awash in cliché, and don't always rhyme correctly. The second act is off-balance and poorly paced, from an unintentionally giggle-inducing opening scene with Clarice to the head-scratchingly abbreviated and muddled conclusion. And Tracey Fess's costumes are bewildering: all contemporary and all black, with skintight pants and a split-down-the-chest shirt for Bwarie, and torn-leather- and spike-laced pieces (and heavy Goth eye makeup) adorning everyone else. Why the show takes place in an S&M bar is not explained. One assumes it's either due to the limitations of the NYMF format, or that the creative team is commenting on Napoleon's doomed-rock-star tendencies. Maybe that makes sense, but it doesn't play. What does is the score, which resounds with the seismic shifts, within politics and people alike, that defined the era. It's obvious that the songs want to tell us who Napoleon was and why he mattered, but with Talleyrand—and, by extension, the writers—so frequently in the way, it's difficult to hear and absorb the tale they're desperate to share.
Napoleon
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