The Off-Broadway Theatre Review: Dead Outlaw

By Ross

Before our gaze gets drawn most magically upwards to a mystical cowboy hangout harmonizing the epic “The Stars Are Bright” around a campfire high above, in, what I must say, is one of the more touchingly sweet-toned entrances that I have heard recently, – it’s like a tun from way back when- the narrator, embodied by the magnificent multi-hat wearing Jeb Brown (City Center’s Pal Joey), stands center with a guitar well-played in his grip beckoning us to warm our collective hearts by that campfire light. He lures us in deliciously with a sly grin, wanting to tell us a tale that is almost too unbelievably to be true, yet he swears, more than once, that it is, whether you want to believe him or not (turns out it is: click here on this link).

All of this starry night sonata unfolds most lovingly before the new musical, Dead Outlaw, presented strong at the Minetta Lane Theatre by Audible, gallops full force with a rocking train robbery energy. As directed with clarity and conviction by David Cromer (Broadway’s The Sound Inside; MTC’s Prayer for the French Republic), the playful piece pounds with a powerful (heart) beat, majestically taking this magical and fanciful show to a higher plane than one could have expected by that first sweet natured melody. It quickly shifts and stomps forth its tender singing and guitar-playing gears into something far more driving, rocking, guitar-playing, and complex. And we all quite happily join that galloping horse, as we get sucked into that deliciously diabolical rattlesnake tornado with the wildest abandonment one could imagine.

Written with style and substance by David Yazbek (The Band’s Visit) and Erik Della Penna (Netflix’s “Tree Man“), alongside book writer Itamar Moses (Public Theater’s Ally), Dead Outlaw rides the range with a totally captivating force, climbing on to the wild wild west set-up and never really wanting the ride to end. The story, told in two chapters, is not your typical tall tale based on fact, but one that breathes surprising life into the story of the Dead Outlaw. It unpacks his afterlife in a way that we soon discover, is laced up with the macabre with a strong dash of wit and wonderment, stitched lightly with the absurd. The music, led by Penna on stage with the exceptional band, explodes with the very funny rocking centerpiece song that loudly elbows its way throughout the piece and into our hearts, like a bullet.

“Your momma’s dead and so are you!” they tell us, and on a rotating bandstand that fills the space with its clever floating construction, designed with a concerted eye by Arnulfo Maldonado (Broadway’s A Strange Loop), with clever consistently well-guided lighting by Heather Gilbert (Broadway’s Parade), the crew rises up and digs themselves deep into the material with all the glory and fury of an outlaw trapped. He’s “Dead”, they sing, as they list off all the other well-known others (including your momma) who have joined him in that dark otherworld category, most hilariously. But first, we are given the outlandish vantage point of trying to understand the man in question, before he became the corpse. Dead Outlaw defies the traditional formula with abundance, jumping from back then to a more current time when a stagehand for a network television show, quite fittingly “The Six Million Dollar Man“, stumbles upon something that at first resembles a prop, but, as it turns out much to the man’s alarm, to be an embalmed corpse, painted red and hung from the neck. Here we have our Dead Outlaw.

And before we know it, we are hanging out with a 1976 crooning coroner Thomas Noguchi, played spectacularly by Thom Sesma (Encores’ Oliver!), in Long Beach, CA, as he tries his best to unwind the story of that body that lays before him. Sesma almost steals the show as the second coroner to examine this corpse, with his later “Up to the Stars” Vegas number singing with so much delight and energy, that we can’t help but be amazed. But before he gets there, we have to unearth the background story of the one and only, Elmer McCurdy (1880-1911), who after his untimely death in a shoot-out, became something of a (dead) celebrity himself, standing tall while dead as the much-desired carnival sideshow attraction, propped up with a prop, and traveling from sea to shining sea.

Unpacking the tale from cradle to dusty corpse, the musical drives us through the cowboy terrain with an infectious energy and grin. At once point, most touchingly, dancing the sweet dance of courtship, Elmer, played to wannabe desperado perfection by the energetic Andrew Durand (Broadway’s Shucked), carries a chip on his shoulder from a truth told too late, by a mother figure who disappears from his life far too quickly. “The road itself was what he was looking for,” he soon discovers, but it actually is alcohol that lends its hair-trigger hands to create this fightin’ persona that will lead Elmer down the road to ruin, seeking someone else’s riches with mischief on his explosive mind. And death, you see, is riding not too far behind his explosive self, just waiting for that perfect show-down moment to help Elmer ride into the role of his (after)life.

The show is a clever, complicated, jammed-packed adventure that rides with purpose through the cowboy bandit terrain, at least for the first part, with love and jealousy causing trouble across the stage. And this is only the deliciously engaging Part One of this 90-minute one-act musical, “The Life of Elmer McCurdy.” The unpacking sets this all up quickly, stellarly, with the help of some well-voiced and well-cast actors taking on multiple characters that ride with Elmer gloriously down his doomed path. Beyond the fantastic Sesma and his many roles, Julia Knitel (Off-Broadway’s A Letter to Harvey Milk) does an impressive job taking on every female role required but finding true emotional currency as McCurdy’s early Oklahoma girlfriend that dances in and out of his short life, and later, as an engaging curious teenager singing her internal monologue song to his dusty corpse propped up in her living room hoping for advice. Both are deliciously unique turns that engage with our souls and our intellect. Running man Trent Saunders (Broadway’s Hadestown) is also given one of the more unique and strongly written musical moments as a long-distance runner who barely comes into contact with the traveling corpse. It’s an electrifying race, as he powerfully and emotionally sings his truth on his epic journey across the country on Route 66. It’s a remarkable and utterly captivating metaphoric run, like so many moments in this clever musical that feels oh-so destined for a bigger, wider (possibly Broadway) stage.

Backed by a talented and rockin’ band, led by Penna, with music supervisor Dean Sharenow (Broadway’s Girl From the North Country) sharing orchestration credit with Penna, the music soars, with cast members grabbing the central mic and taking over the bandstand spotlight. Director Cromer expertly draws us in and around the monolithic stage that takes up the majority of the stage, with the cast making ample use of the space around and on top of the structure. Costumed perfectly by Sarah Laux (Broadway’s Kimberly Akimbo) and choreographed exactly by movement director Ani Taj (Encores/Delacorte’s Runaways), the explosive attempts at engineering the great train robbery (sadly by boarding the wrong train), alters the gang’s outlook, leaving Elmer all on his own, caught in the center of a western film shootout, with a deadly outlaw ending soon to be played out.

But this is just the midpoint of the story. Here is where the true story of the Dead Outlaw gets wilder and wilder, and more remarkably unique. You see, “there is something about a mummy,” we are told, and Durand as Elmer, both alive and dead, does a fantastic job as the firecracker cowboy just one drink away from exploding, usually without blowing the safe door off, but once he becomes the Dead Outlaw, the actor, known for his fabulous physicality within a role, becomes an impossibly good (and still) immobile object, sold and resold by enterprising businessmen looking to make a buck off of the unspoken for bandit. And in that fantastically unusual formulation, Dead Outlaw finds flavor untasted before, thanks to the remarkably controlled body of Durand and the music and lyrics that swirl and run around him. It’s an exciting and wonderfully entertaining gallop, thanks to the most excellent band of musicians, creators, actors, and bandits, both alive and dead. Dead Outlaw should not be missed if you can help it. But I shouldn’t worry too much. Much like that embalmed corpse, this fabulous, curious roadshow adventure will certainly find a new life and home on a bigger wider stage worthy of the Dead Outlaw propped up center stage. It’s too good to get lost in the back of some closet somewhere. It rightfully deserves the big city spotlight he never found in his lifetime.

Audible Theater‘s Dead Outlaw runs at the Minetta Lane Theatre through April 7. Tickets and information are available at: audible.com