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The New York Musical Theatre Festival 2015 HeadVoice It would be a shame if, in the wake of the sweeping success of the animated film Inside Out, due attention were not paid to a similarly themed musical by Ethan Andersen at the New York Musical Theatre Festival. HeadVoice, like that smash Disney-Pixar film, considers how one person is directed by voices no one else can hear, and what that means for getting out of one's own head. That the subject of Andersen's show, Eric (whom Andersen plays), is a twentysomething man rather than an 11-year-old girl is largely immaterial and makes this tiny musical a rewarding, personal experience on its own terms. Perhaps too personal? For all the charm of the writing, the performing, and the direction and choreography (both by Charlie Johnson), HeadVoice tends toward the self-contained: a lovable portrait of one person that, in the final analysis, is something less than universally applicable. The story finds Eric at the piano, tormented by the songs he needs to write and the spirit of his mother lurking just outside the door: Will he write and will he confront her? Andersen delves no deeper than that, which makes the 80-minute evening ring hollower than it should given how nice it is from start to finish. Part the pleasure comes from the way Eric reacts with the components of his own mind, who are even given names: the saucy Izzy (roughly but not exclusively the id, played by Katie Emerson), the practical Ian (ego, Matthew Summers), and the maternal Susan (superego, Nicole Dalto). They help kindle his inspiration and play various roles in his memory as he works to surmount his blocks, and though he tries to control them and their behavior (bizarrely insisting they can't write any songs, when of course they write all his songs), there's no question who's in charge. Andersen's dialogue is light and funny, and precise as far as character; his songs are nimble across a variety of styles, from musical scenes and frothy uptempo to vampy torch and searing heartbreak, with even an isolated piano solo near show's end. Fewer gratuitous references to other musicals might help particularize HeadVoice (Wicked, Gyspy, and especially Dreamgirls are among the targets) and draw sharper attention to Andersen's own talents, but this is otherwise a solid, well-crafted piece. Dalto, Emerson, and Summers are meant to delight, and they do, with an appealing informality that supports Andersen's own fine portrayal of Eric without ever detracting from it. There are some standouts (the twisty, premise setting opening number; Izzy's sultry-funny "Tickle My Iv'ries"; Susan's aching "Float"), but it's a cohesive show that works more on its own terms than it does if you break it down. Johnson knows this, and has staged with gentle fluidity that well complements the book and score. Where any of it can or should go from here, I'm not sure. It's an ideal festival show, necessarily tiny, and Andersen invests it with an urgent authenticity it won't easily find elsewhere. And it's easy to see how tweaking it to make it more saleable could upset the fragile alchemy that makes it work now; the quintessential NYMF outing, [title of show], was never remotely as good once it left its natural habitat. Still, for audiences, HeadVoice doesn't make you dwell on such external concerns. With it, it's what's inside that counts, and what delivers handsomely.
Held Momentarily What, another stuck-in-the-subway musical? Yes. But unlike Lincoln Center Theater's Happiness and Stuck at NYMF three years ago, in Oliver Houser's Held Momentarily, the subway car isn't a metaphor for life, death, or anything in between—it's a subway car. So it at least has that originality going for it. Unfortunately, it doesn't have much else. Here, the stalled train is merely an excuse for six people to learn something about themselves after coming in contact with the homeless woman named Asherah, played by India Carney, who lives in the train system. A young gay man celebrating his birthday learns the truth about his boyfriend, an insecure med-school dropout learns to believe in himself, a high-powered executive learns why everyone hates him, two bickering daters learn they're actually ready to go to bed with each other, and a pregnant woman learns that she can't rely on her fiancé (and I'll bet you just can't guess if she gives birth during the show!). If this isn't a toxic combination of ideas, there's nothing fresh here, and no real suspense in the book or score. The only notable song is song is Asherah's "Everything," which is somewhat non-specific but haunting and romantic; that the character also has a number called "If You See Something (Say Something)" rather defuses the song's impact, and the latter is more indicative of the winking, disordered writing. Director Harry Shifman and choreographer Ben Hartley keep everything in check; and the performers, who include Houser as the executive, are all acceptable—and, in the cases of Yael Rizowy as the pregnant woman and Ciaran Bowling as the dropout, a bit better than that. But you spend most of the show hoping that it will add up to something more than the sum of its parts, and it just doesn't. Houser was wise to not go the MTA-metaphor route, but he needed to replace that substance with something, and he didn't. Above everything else, that's why Held Momentarily never really gets moving.
HeadVoice & Held Momentarily
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