I've heard a lot of apologists for Bonnie & Clyde say that it was surprisingly good. You know, for a Frank Wildhorn show. Well, saying that Bonnie & Clyde is Wildhorn's least awful musical is sort of like saying leukemia is the most survivable form of cancer, or that Mitt Romney is the most electable Republican. They're still bad.
And Bonnie & Clyde is bad. True, the show, which closed on Broadway last week after only 36 performances, represents a vast improvement over such unmitigated dreck as Jekyll & Hyde and Dracula, but Bonnie & Clyde is nonetheless still well within the realm of the awful, and thus a perversely appropriate addition to the Wildhorn oeuvre.
Much like Wonderland, Wilhorn's most recent Broadway disaster, Bonnie & Clyde starts relatively strong. After a brief prologue that illustrates in graphic detail where our story will be heading, we get a dual character number, "This World Will Remember Me," which succinctly sets up the base motivations of both Bonnie Parker and Clyde Barrow.
But then, book writer Ivan Menchell seems hell-bent on making us feel sympathy for these sociopaths. Now, there's nothing wrong with an antihero in a musical, but for the treatment to be successful, you either need to have a larger, perhaps satirical, point that you're trying to make (as in Chicago) or you need to draw a clear line between understanding and approval (as in Sweeney Todd). In Menchell's book, there's a disturbing tendency to try to justify the horrific actions of Clyde Barrow in particular. While in prison, Clyde is shown at the mercy of menacing guards who take leering pleasure in pimping Clyde out to his fellow inmates. We also see the Ted Hinton character, a rival for Bonnie's affections, cause unprovoked physical harm to Clyde while he's in Hinton's custody. Aw, poor Clyde. It kind of felt like the beginning of "Gladiator" or "Death Wish" or "Robocop," or another of those reprehensible revenge-porn fantasies that try to justify violent acts with, "Well, he started it."
As for Wildhorn's music, well, he certainly has a way with a pleasant melody, but once again he falls victim to the Andrew Lloyd Webber ailment of choosing lyricists who debase rather than ennoble his music. Wildhorn fittingly partners here with lyricist Don Black, a frequent Lloyd Webber collaborator (Aspects of Love, Sunset Boulevard, Song and Dance), and the results are every bit as uninspired as in any of Black's Lloyd Webber shows.
Usually, the point at which Wildhorn loses me is the first bland power ballad, but in Bonnie & Clyde, my departure point was "When I Drive," in which Clyde and his brother Buck regale us about their love of cars. Yup, cars. I suppose this number was meant to show the bond between the brothers, and to establish their desire for material comforts, but for me it was the first in a series of questionable song motivations. Perhaps the most questionable was "Dyin' Ain't So Bad," a real howler of an 11 o'clock number in which Bonnie seems to cast off the strictures of dramatic irony and sings with impassioned resignation as to her inexorable fate.
Another point that the Bonnie & Clyde apologists seemed to harp on is the cast, and here they certainly have a point. As the despicable duo themselves, we have Laura Osnes and Jeremy Jordan, and they were indeed sensational in their respective roles. In the supporting cast, Claybourne Elder and Melissa Van Der Schyff were vivid and memorable in their portrayals of Clyde's brother Buck and his long-suffering wife. But, frankly, I've never been one to say that a show is worth seeing simply because of the cast. To me, that's kind of like saying that the sets and the costumes were cool, even if the show itself was wanting. I hope to see all four performers again very soon, perhaps in a piece more worthy of their talents.
On a final note, I just can't let the opportunity pass to ask one burning question: Who are these people that keep funding these Wildhorn musicals? Beyond the subjective quality of the shows at hand, it really seems that, as investors, they don't seem to be doing much in the way of due diligence. I mean, take a look at Wildhorn's Broadway track record:
Jekyll & Hyde
1543 performances
Closed at a loss
The Scarlet Pimpernel
772 performances
Closed at a loss
The Civil War
61 performances
Closed at a loss
Dracula
157 performances
Closed at a loss
Wonderland
33 performances
Closed at a loss
Bonnie & Clyde
36 performances
Closed at a loss
Talk about your diminishing returns. Now, Bonnie and Clyde reportedly only cost a relatively thrifty $6 million. That's about half of what you'd expect a typical Broadway musical to cost these days. Even so, I would respectfully submit to these fine people that their money would serve a far greater use in the long run if they, I don't know, maybe donated it to the Boston Conservatory. Think of it as an investment in the future of the musical theater. I can virtually guarantee a far more favorable return on your investment.
