The creation of the atomic bomb was one of the most momentous events in world history. The most lethal weapon ever devised by man, it ended World War II when dropped over Hiroshima and Nagasaki, killing and maiming hundreds of thousands of people.
I know what you’re thinking: What a great subject for a musical!
That, at least, was the notion behind “Atomic,” the stunningly misconceived musical that — after a mysteriously successful run in Australia — opened here Sunday, provoking the same kind of jaw dropping last seen by the audience watching “Springtime for Hitler.” Much like the Manhattan Project, its creators — Danny Ginges and Gregory Bonsignore (book and lyrics) and Philip Foxman (music and lyrics) — have created a bomb.
The focus here is on Leo Szilard (a strong-voiced Jeremy Kushnier), the morally conflicted, Hungarian-born scientist who was the bomb’s principal architect — and a strong opponent to it being deployed in Japan after Germany’s surrender. Opposing him are some of his fellow scientists, including J. Robert Oppenheimer (an excellent Euan Morton), and Arthur Compton (David Abeles), the government official overseeing the project.
“Do you want to be the man who made the bomb that didn’t go off?” he asks Szilard.
Although generally serious in tone — a big subplot involves Szilard’s wife, Trude (Sara Gettelfinger), who feels neglected — the show veers into bizarre comic tangents. Scientist Enrico Fermi (Jonathan Hammond) is portrayed as a compendium of Italian clichés, lecherously rhapsodizing about the glories of his adopted country in the song “America Amore.” A scene set in a Southern factory manufacturing parts for the bomb features a trio of female workers singing a boogie-woogie, Andrews Sisters-style number, “The Hole in the Donut.”
Granted, this is the rare rock musical with a song about nuclear physics (“Light Up the World”). But its silliness pales in comparison to the slow-motion ballet depicting the bomb’s explosion: Accompanied by blinding lights and deafening bursts of noise, it shows Szilard personally murdering a young Japanese couple.
By the time a female scientist plaintively asks, “How do you say I’m sorry to the whole world?” the triviality of the enterprise has become overwhelming. The jokey “Atomic Survival Guide” in the program suggests theatergoers “crouch to the floor in front of you” in the event of an imminent explosion. In this case, it’s better just to avoid the Acorn Theater.