The Broadway Theatre Review: Broadway’s The Notebook: The Musical

By Ross

“Girls like that dry their hands with dollar bills,” Noah is told by his best friend (a very fun Carson Stewart) one summer. On the opposing side, Allie is also dutifully warned by her gal pal (Hillary Fisher) that the handsome young man she is smiling at will not be welcomed into her home by her well-off parents. But you and I know that those warnings of societal inappropriateness will not be heard by those two who smile lovingly at one another in the musical remake of that beloved Nicholas Sparks bestselling 1996 debut novel, The Notebook, and that even more loved 2004 hit film with the same name. We are a sucker for those types of romantic tales involving love triumphing over all obstacles, especially class, money, and meddling mothers, lovingly played in this one by Andrea Burns (LCT’s The Gardens of Anuncia).

Yet, the triangle of love that exists in The Notebook: The Musical is not of a traditional nature. There is a classic one, eventually, involving Noah, Allie, and a handsome young lawyer named Lon, played by the beautifully voiced and dashing Chase Del Ray (“King Richard“). But it is not the most important triangular one created in the latest Broadway movie-to-stage musical. Nor is it the focal point, mainly because this musical, written with a loyalty to the surface by book writer Bekah Brunstetter (The Cake) with music and lyrics by Ingrid Michaelson (“The Way I Am“), creates three unique versions of the two lovestruck leads, crowding the stage, even when not required. All to tell the tale that we already know, with little suspense, nor emotional connectivity – at least for this fan of the movie and the four movie stars who made it all work so beautifully well. 

On a set designed solidly and efficiently by David Zinn (The Shed’s Here We Are) and Brett J. Banakis (ATC’s Sunday), with nursing home vibes pushed up to the edge, tender lighting by Ben Stanton (Broadway’s Good Night, Oscar), and a solid sound design by Nevin Steinberg (Broadway’s Sweeney Todd), time is played out in threes, with love, hope, and dreams coordinated in colored parallels of brown and blue, courtesy of costumes by Paloma Young (Broadway’s & Juliet). With their raw histories overlapping, sometimes with power and sometimes by force, “one might say” the engagement is there, but not to the degree I had hoped. The three versions continually circle around one another, singing as one, again and again, when one might have been enough sometime. I wanted so much to be drawn into the approaching dilemma, pulled with emotional tenderness into the tale of Noah and Allie. But it never found its way, like we are told it did between the young Noah, played carefully by John Cardoza (Broadway/ART’s Jagged Little Pill), and the young Allie, portrayed by the fair Jordan Tyson (PCLO’s Into the Woods) as she summers by the shore with her protective and single-minded parents (Burns, Charles E. Wallace).

The way those two youngins look at one another elevates the situation, and makes us want to swim into the turbulent waters of love with them, and dance in the (obviously coming) iconic rain storm, even if it feels more like a requirement than an authentic event. But the curiosity of one another doesn’t really seem etched in very much beyond rebellion and casual appreciation. Engagingly portrayed by the medium-aged middle Noah, handsomely embodied by the charming Ryan Vasquez (MCC’s The Wrong Man) with his young adult middle Allie, played stoically and compassionately by Joy Woods (CSC’s I Can Get It For You Wholesale), the visual works, but there isn’t much substance underneath those wet clothes. These two pairs are not the ones to be fully engaged with. They lack understanding and a reason for being, beyond attraction and superficial lust. The four do work hard creating the energy of a love blooming, but the feeling ultimately remains elusive, with the music and lyrics being too simple and superficial to really hold tight to.

These four are not the ones we care about. Our connectivity lies solely with the older Allie, played wonderfully complex by the captivating Maryann Plunkett (Broadway’s Agnes of God; ArsNova’s The Lucky Ones), as we rally around her struggle with dementia and that sad feeling of being lost and alone. And to a slightly lesser degree, her thoughtful momentarily-forgotten husband, Noah, played with tenderness and care by Dorian Harewood (Broadway’s The Mighty Gents). And like the older Allie, we just want to skip forward, basically to the end. Because that’s where we feel this musical has placed its emotional emphasis on, and it is in those elderly moments of tender remembrance when the lump gets stuck in our collective hearts. And not before. 

Directed with a solid force by Michael Greif (Broadway’s War Paint) and Schele Williams (the upcoming Broadway revival of The Wiz), with musical supervision and arrangements by Carmel Dean (Broadway’s Funny Girl) and straightforward but circular choreography by Katie Spelman (Barrington’s Cabaret), The Notebook: The Musical tries to dramatize the layers but the repetitive music doesn’t feel authentic to the characters and the lyrics create simplistic metaphors that don’t have the weight of the true dilemma in its outstretched hands.

The journey is non-linear, telling us more than we need to know, too soon, and too fast. Maybe there is no way around this, as we are so aware of the secret subtext that is slowly revealed in the film – at least that is how I remember it. Changing the period and the background doesn’t even really register, mainly because I was never fully invested. It’s pretty, and everyone looks good and sounds good, but the whole thing feels forced and reconstructed for optimal effect. That is except for those two veteran actors who float in and out connecting us to the material and to their passion for one another. There’s some magic to be found there in The Notebook: The Musical.