Musicals can inspire a broad spectrum of reactions, from “wow!” and “awwww!” to “ugh” or “harrumph.” But it’s not often that one leaves the theater thinking, “huh?”
The alternately soaring and sappy “BKLYN The Musical” currently at Swift Creek Mill Theatre purports to tell a modern fairy tale, acted out by a ragtag group of homeless street singers performing under the Brooklyn Bridge in the year 2000.
The show’s songs include numerous assertions one might expect in such a fantasy, to “believe in miracles,” for instance, or that “love will conquer all.” But, by the end, the fable’s lessons – not to mention key components of the plot – get lost in the shuffle.
Luckily, director Shanea N. Taylor has stacked this cast with powerhouse performers that, along with a robust band led by musical director Leilani Fenick, deliver some electrifying scenes. The production affords ample opportunity to get caught up in the energy if you don’t get too distracted second-guessing the storyline.
Kicking off the action is the dynamic Dorothy Dee-D Miller who starts as narrator and then transitions to a fairy godmother of sorts. She leads us through the story of Brooklyn (Lindy Pokorny), a Parisian child who is left orphaned when her mother, Faith (Kamaron Carter), takes her own life.
Brooklyn grows up to be a singing sensation, a totally believable trajectory thanks to Pokorny’s prodigious vocal prowess and the plucky urgency she projects. She heads to America to find the father she’s never known, armed only with two clues: she was named after his hometown and only he can complete the unfinished song Faith was always singing.
After making a splash in the U.S., Brooklyn is challenged by reigning American diva, Paradice (Desirée Dabney) to a supreme duel at Madison Square Garden.
Meanwhile, Brooklyn’s father, Taylor (Michael McMullen) is struggling with PTSD after a horrific stint in Vietnam and subsequent drug addiction. Wracked with guilt, he’s reluctant to show up for his daughter, a reticence that the cynical Paradice exploits in order to gain an advantage in her duel with Brooklyn.
Give credit to the show’s creators, Mark Schoenfeld and Barri McPherson, for serving up some swerves on the way to a happy ending. But clarity sometimes suffers amidst the originality.
In a world where Beyoncé and Taylor Swift both thrive, a singing battle that is somehow supposed to pick the ultimate diva doesn’t make sense. And Brooklyn’s father’s backstory, briefly sketched during one song, doesn’t provide enough detail to understand the demons he’s wrestling with. Without specificity, some plot points confuse rather than illuminate.
That said, the show zips along too quickly to spend much time puzzling things out. Paradice’s songs, like “Superlover” and “Raven,” are less melodies and more invitations for Dabney to chew the scenery with unbridled glee. She’s assisted by costume designer Maura Lynch Cravey who dresses her in whimsical frocks built from garbage bags, police tape, Tyvek wrap, and other unconventional fabrics.
In delivering the weightiest songs of the night, McMullen shines with a clear, sweet tenor and a genuine pathos that infuses his character with more depth than the script does. In expanding the cast to include a 4-person ensemble, director Taylor has also given more oomph and personality to the proceedings.
The action plays out on a believably roughed-up stage (scenic design by Dasia Gregg), complete with graffiti and artfully random refuse. Lighting designer Joe Doran provides effective visual punctuation like strobes in concert scenes.
Though it ran for 8 months on Broadway back in 2004-05, “BKLYN” has gained attention in recent years thanks to a pandemic-era livestream out of London. Schoenfeld and McPherson have Paradice skewer the American Dream in ways that might seem prescient today.
But their biggest triumphs here are soaring anthems like “Once Upon A Time” that talented singers like Pokorny can belt with gusto. While “BKLYN”’s plot can be confounding, getting swept up in the assembled voices is a delight.
“BKLYN The Musical” runs at Swift Creek Mill Theatre, 17401 Route 1 in South Chesterfield, through Feb. 17. Tickets and more information available at https://www.swiftcreekmill.com/.
