Phillipa Soo is phenomenal, as is this pop opera staged amid the audience and a cabaret set. (Ben Aron)
Phillipa Soo (inset with Lucas Steele) is phenomenal, as is this pop opera staged amid the audience and a cabaret set. (
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Much like the celestial body of its title, the new pop opera “Natasha, Pierre & the Great Comet of 1812” has appeared out of nowhere to brighten the theatrical season.
Instead of flashy ads and overhyped stars, this thrilling new show relies on ambition, ingenuity, craft and heart. Are you paying attention, Broadway?
The immersive production is the fruit of a close-knit collaboration between Dave Malloy, who wrote the sung-through score and the book, and director Rachel Chavkin. They’d worked together on “Three Pianos” at New York Theatre Workshop, but this new project, which drops the audience in the middle of a subplot from “War and Peace,” is a huge leap.
Steering clear from the novel’s sprawling canvas, the plot zeroes in on the seduction of the young, innocent Natasha (Phillipa Soo, in a star-is-born performance) by the rakish Anatole (Lucas Steele). Too bad she doesn’t hear him sing “All I care for is gaiety and women/And there’s no dishonor in that.”
Natasha and Anatole move in 19th-century Moscow’s high society — they meet at the opera — and we follow their affair through the eyes of their friends and family, including Pierre (Malloy), “a warm-hearted Russian of the old school.” (The program includes a helpful chart of the various relationships.)
The story is told in a series of inventive songs that go from klezmer stomp to country-fried ballad to plaintive torch song. A crack six-piece band helps keep the whole thing cohesive.
Even when penning a techno dance thumper or having the characters talk about themselves in the third person, Malloy steers clear of the smart-aleck irony of shows like “Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson.” He knows not to joke with matters of the heart, and his 10 actors feel the same way.
It’s hard to pick stand-outs, though Soo, a recent Juilliard grad in her first major role, displays rare poise and a clean, pure voice free from self-indulgent gimmicks. And Brittain Ashford’s aria “Sonya Alone” creates the same lump in the throat as an old Dolly Parton lament.
But the show’s trump card is the way music and staging are intertwined.
Ars Nova has been made to look like a Russian cabaret, complete with red drapes and chandeliers, and the audience sits at tables supplied with free vodka and potato dumplings — all this for a top ticket of $30.
The space becomes the stage and vice versa, as the cast, clad in period-funky costumes by Paloma Young (the Tony-winning designer of “Peter and the Starcatcher”), deftly zoom around us.
This makes for a fun experience, but also an intimate and soulful one. The show concludes as Pierre sees the comet and has an epiphany. It’s a searingly beautiful moment, and it takes place with the house lights shining on. Careful: Everyone can see you cry.