Choir Boy

On Broadway

Shadows. Sitting in the front row, house right, three days after opening, the first thing I saw were the shadows of the boys as they came onstage. I exhaled sharply — having the shadows (something that should metaphorically follow instead of lead) be the first thing the audience saw of the boys was so ominous, beautiful, and smart.

But if I had held my breath until the next moment that excited me so, I wouldn’t be here to write this now. The rest of the play, while not without some merit, failed to move me.

The good first: the ensemble was the strongest vocally I have ever seen. With so few people, just about everyone, if not everyone, had his own part. There was nowhere for anyone to hide, but there was no need for anyone to hide either. I have an 18 second clip of their version of “Rockin’ Jerusalem” that’s played on repeat 56 times since I started writing this post. It’s so good.

I could also watch a whole three-hour show of the cast stepping. As it happened, interspersed between scenes, my heart swelled. The power in each movement was infectious. A bubble of second-hand shame as I remembered the limp flailing of the Asian sorority I nearly pledged to in college appeared, but quickly burst. There was no time to think of anything but what was happening onstage.

The bad: While the acting was anything but one-note, the problems the characters had were. I didn’t become emotionally invested in anyone because the issues in this play were such tropes that, by the time the denouement rolled around, I was rolling my eyes. Even though it was a fiery, passionate, and incredibly well-performed scene, I just didn’t believe it.