As a holiday musical, Elf misses the mark
Review
There are only so many times you can trot out “Oliver!” “Joseph” and “Mary.” Even Maria and her “Sound of Music” can’t make a Christmas visit every year.
So, of course, that’s why you choose something like “Elf The Musical.” I mean, it has a Christmas story and theme doesn’t it? And it is a popular holiday movie.
But, this 2010 Broadway version of the Will Ferrell film isn’t a terrific stage musical. It has a central character we can certainly like, but not much more.
There are a few questionable words in the text. “Screw you,” probably isn’t something you’d want the kiddies to repeat. And references to Oprah and Dr. Phil are pretty yesterday.
More worrisome though, are the paint-by-numbers songs from Matthew Sklar and Chad Beguelin that are instantly forgettable, even when they’re sung by an enthusiastic Aquarius cast.
These folks do everything but stand on their heads to keep this sentimental stocking stuffer hoofing along.
I know it’s Christmas and sentiment is part of the deal, but it’s pretty much rammed down your throat with “Elf The Musical.” This is a sugar-coated confection with too many dollops of whipped cream on top.
I suppose that doesn’t matter, but you can’t help but wish Elf ’s story about Buddy, the boy who fell into Santa’s sack and grew up feeling different at the North Pole was less obviously contrived.
Buddy sets out to find his dad, who just happens to be a Scroogelike character running a major department store in New York City.
He attracts attention. After all, how obvious is a 6-foot elf wearing yellow tights and a pom-pom on his hat? Even in the Big Apple he’d be noticed, along with Times Square’s other joke, The Naked Cowboy.
A few songs into the show, Buddy (Brent Thiessen) miraculously finds his stepmom Emily (Robin Hutton) and bonds with his stepbrother Michael (Gabriel Mattka — Brendan Forbes at some performances). But Buddy has difficulty connecting on a meaningful level with Walter Hobbs (Victor A. Young) his distracted, not so likable dad.
Buddy falls in love at first sight with a cute little blond woman (Katie Kerr) who makes his temperature rise and vanquishes any icy thoughts he has of returning to the North Pole and Santa.
Is there a happy ending for this cartload of cartoon folks? And will Santa (the wonderful Neil Barclay) appear with his sleigh full of goodies on Christmas Eve? Does Rudolph’s nose light up?
The trouble with “Elf The Musical” is that it’s written to order for a limited Christmas shelf life. Book writers Thomas Meehan and Bob Martin, haven’t offered much more than a ho-ho-ho-hum story. They’ve also book-ended the show with a hokey Santa sequence that is embarrassing, even when it’s acted well by the irrepressible Barclay.
For his part, Michael Lichtefeld has directed with lightning pace and inventive choreography. He’s smart enough to keep his busy cast dashing from one New York location to another to keep tedium at bay, so we find ourselves outside Tavern on the Green in Central Park, at the ice rink in Rockefeller Centre and watching a bunch of fake Santas tap dance on Christmas Eve in a down-and-out Chinese restaurant. It’s all very New York.
Ivan Brozic’s sets and projections keep the show in focus visually, even if the annoying sound design has the same loud and shrill amplification that shook the Aquarius walls last season with “Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat.”
The cast is uniformly good with Jayne Lewis terrific as Deb, the office hotshot who has a way with those snappy Lichtefeld dance moves. Katie Kerr rings the rafters with “Never Fall In Love With an Elf,” even if the song is a silly anthem to nothing.
Robin Hutton and Victor A. Young work hard to make Emily and Walter believable, but they’re largely cartoons, never real people. For that blame the script, not these seasoned actors.
As you might expect, Thiessen is the standout here. As the innocent elflike Buddy, discovering the dark side of New York City, with wide-eyed innocence and a full litany of Christmas clichés, he makes you want to take him home and hang him on your Christmas tree.
This show is no “Mary Poppins.” “It’s not even “Annie.” But shhhhh, maybe the kids won’t notice, even if it is all synthetic holly berries, fake snow and rough Santas with phoney beards.
Gary Smith has written on theatre and dance for The Hamilton Spectator for more than 35 years.