On April 14, something almost never seen before on Broadway happened: the premiere of a completely new musical, created from scratch by theater professionals who neither adapted a book nor a novel nor a series nor drew on the songbook of a radio group. Lempicka It told a new story, that of the Polish portrait painter Tamara de Lempicka, and its creators had poured 13 years of work into it.
On May 19, something happened that is often seen on Broadway: the new musical closed abruptly, this time after only 41 performances due to lack of audiences. Lempicka has become the latest example of the growing poison that is originality in commercial theater, even in its planetary capital, Broadway.
And it is also a sign of something deeper: that the craft of creating musicals (those works written by playwrights and composers with decades of training who have dedicated years of their lives to collaborating with actors, set designers and choreographers to create a unique and new performance where the musical tradition and that of many other disciplines are reconciled with the dramatic needs of a specific story) is in danger of extinction. modus operandi that for decades has given us West Side Story, Sweeney Todd, My Fair Lady, Evita and many other classics, or even The Miserables, is beginning to become a relic.
Until now the invincible was eating ground music jukebox, works with songs by already known groups (the irreducible Mamma Mia! (from Abba, Elvis Presley, Madonna, Blondie, Take That, Green Day, the Beatles, Cher, Spice Girls, Michael Jackson, Daft Punk, Donna Summer and Alanis Morissette, and even two Bob Dylan ones). Actors and sets superimposed on the image of pop stars.
In the shadow of these blockbusters languished the Stephen Sondheims, Richard Rodgers, Leonard Bernstein, Cole Porter and George Gershwins of our time. Some works gave some joy: Hamilton, from 2015, it is a blockbuster of more than 1,000 million dollars, and one of the few musicals to win the Pulitzer; In 2020, the experimental In The Loop won the same award. But otherwise, the state of health of the genre is… Lempicka.
Now a third way is emerging. Neither radio hits nor purely theatrical works. In recent months we have seen the announcement of almost entirely original musicals, whose composers are… pop stars. There is a The Great Gatsby by Florence Welch (from Florence and the Machine), a Opening Night by Rufus Wainwright (based on opening nightby John Cassavetes), a Romeo and Juliet by Jack Antonoff (producer of Lana del Rey, Taylor Swift, Lorde) and a film that Michel Gondry will direct where the characters will sing songs by Pharrell Williams (a torrential rapper and creative director of Louis Vuitton’s men’s collections, for those who want to glimpse some thesis on culture in 2024). It is one of the most radical changes of the genre in its century and a half of life: the hands that fill the stages have no longer been nourished by them. They come from outside.
“There is no room for opportunity, only safe bets are worth it,” reasons Spanish producer Fernando de Luis-Orueta. And he points out the exorbitant prices at the box office: “For $500 you can only leave satisfied. And you already have a Rufus Wainwright fan won before you raise the curtain.”
“Who produces musicals now? They are no longer visionary producers as in the past,” warns Alberto Mira, professor at Oxford Brookes University and author of The Pop Musical (Columbia University Press) and a monograph on Stephen Sondheim to be published by Akal.
It refers to the legendary producers who, in the 20th century, took risks with risky proposals that they developed with creative teams that they themselves formed and pampered like football coaches: Harold Prince helped to forge West Side Story, Cabaret, Company, Evita, Fiddler on the Roof either The Phantom of the Opera, and Cameron Mackintosh, The Miserables. “Now, musicals come out of studios like Stage or Disney, and the studios want a sound that works beforehand.” Studios operate differently. Instead of putting together first-timers to see what comes out by osmosis, a result is decided in advance and then the cheapest way to get there is decided. For some, it’s pure market demand. For purists, it’s defenestrating a sacred craft, putting the tiktokers to direct films.
Certain pop stars had already dared to try their hand at drama, a genre of incomparable prestige when it turns out well (the Anglo-Saxons call it legitimate theater for something). Broadway has seen Tommy, the rock opera by The Who from 1969, and, in 1988, Chess, about a chess championship in the depths of the Cold War: original music by Benny Andersson and Björn UIvaeus, composers of Abba. Seen in their day as exercises in intrusion, in this new panorama they have the aura of endearing precursors: Tommy has returned to Broadway this year and Chess will do so next year. On the other hand, Elton John is the signer of the most profitable musical in history, The Lion King (as well as disasters like Aida, in 2000, Lestat in 2006 and The Devil Wears Prada in 2022). The force with which this new batch has burst forth suggests good health.
And those new composers trained to tell stories musically? They are still there. Your safe bet is film adaptations: in 2025 they will arrive Karate Kid, La la land either Magic Mike. The hit of the season is Death Becomes Her. Will any of them be a masterpiece? De Luis-Orueta responds: “Theatre always survives”
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