The Broadway Theatre Review: Redwood

By Ross

The blackout is sharp and precise, quickening the heart as the central figure is headlight-illuminated in a powerful turbulence of images and movement. “Go faster“, the dynamic opening pleads, as the lights and projections drive us forward at a hectic pace, while jaggedly taking us back to tragedy and heartbreak, all with the first few minutes of the complex creation that is Redwood. It’s a captivating but complex new musical, co-conceived by director-book writer Tina Landau (Broadway’s SpongeBob….) and Idina Menzel, the show’s star, that climbs high with captive strapped-in determination tied powerfully by vocal force to baked-in anguish and grief. The visuals and emotionality soar as dynamically and fascinatingly as all of the vocals do, especially its star’s vocal style and surge. Yet as Redwood climbs upwards, it stumbles somewhat off the ledge, luckily with enough safety ropings tied in to keep it and her from crashing hard on the solid floor framework.

There is something intrinsically beautiful, sad, lovely, and glorious harnessed to Redwood, mainly because of the phenomenally talented force that is Idina Menzel (Broadway’s Wicked, If/Then; Roundabout’s Skintight), back on Broadway at the Nederlander Theatre where she once starred in Jonathan Larson’s Rent. But I can’t say it’s the most well-constructed piece of mainstream theatre. The engagement is clear and honest, finding an exploration of grief within the tree that generally flows, but we quickly get tangled up in knots with the troubled, basically annoying, character of Jesse, played with a compassionate complex intensity by Menzel. Her voice is the centrifugal force that holds us in the harness with her, even when we find her pushiness and somewhat self-centered selfishness a bit hard to embrace.

She’s struggling in a self-destructive spiral after the death of her son, Spencer, embodied magnificently by Zachary Noah Piser (Broadway’s KPOP), playing multiple triggering roles throughout. She pushes back hard on her grieving wife Mel, played true and honest by De’Adre Aziza (Public Theater’s Eve’s Song), and played out inside the book (and lyrics) by Landau, with music (and lyrics) by newcomer-to-musical theatre, Kate Diaz, Jesse’s response to her is definitely not the kindest of acts, but not the only one we witness. Jesse’s response to tragedy is painfully internal and private, sending her running far and away from the life she shares with her supportive wife in New York City, and into the arms of Mother Nature, a surprise to the “horticultural hitman” that she labels herself.

But Redwood is all about grief, rebirth, regrowth, and healing, in the arms of the great redwood trees of Northern California. And this is all thanks to the care and generous heart of the warm, sympathetic Finn, lovingly portrayed by an excellent Michael Park (Broadway Center Stage’s Next to Normal), against the wishes of the more protocol-following Becca, powerfully embodied by Khaila Wilcoxon (Broadway’s Six). Basically running into Jesse’s passed-out corpse in the woods one morning, these two eco-scientists, who are doing research on the giant trees, take her under their wings, one more willingly than the other. And after a sharply defined confessional about her loss, Jesse latches on to Finn, convincing the kind-hearted soul, who has his own paternal issues, to let her hang around for a while, and eventually to teach her to climb and hangout up high in the canopy of the tree line.

“You remind me of someone,” is the line that keeps getting repeated, as we drive along with Jesse and her desire to forgive herself and her son for the life lost. That climb and nesting is the pain and regrowth that lives and breathes at the heart of the story, giving Menzel ample opportunity to shine her magnificently powerful voice forward. It’s very Alanis Morissette in sound and fury, filled with anguish and passion that fits her voice and the show quite impressively, but it also doesn’t foster engagement with others. Thanks to the extremely powerful visuals; the organic, towering set design by Jason Ardizzone-West (Vineyard’s Good Grief); the immersive and hypnotic panoramic projections by Hana S. Kim (Broadway’s The Outsiders); the detailed living and breathing lighting by Scott Zielinski (Broadway’s Oklahoma!); and rich sounds crafted together by Jonathan Dean (MCC’s The Lonely Few), the team collectively elevates and invigorates the spirituality and, more importantly, these singular songs, not exactly created to connect. The music and lyrics have been created to illuminate the raw fury and force that lives inside our own complex big tree religion, and the solidness at the heart of this confronting musical.

Like the intricate roots of the Redwood tree that dominates centerstage magnificently, the survival instinct of Jesse spreads out wide and wild, entwining her outstretched arms with these two forest strangers for emotional support in a vast system of connected roots. But not her wife. It’s a fantastic symbol of care, as the two help hold her up and give her the strength she is lacking, harnessing her in for safety and security. They take her through the climb and the forest story-time song to find compassion for herself and others. Defying gravity once again, thanks to Landau’s thoughtful direction and Melecio Estrella and Bandaloop’s Vertical Movement choreography staging (which is joyful and freeing), Jesse communes with nature and this one specific tree, transforming her high-level trauma into a type of strength and a desire to reconnect with the world. And Menzel and that voice of hers do the somewhat impossible by making it all feel compassionate and organic, even when the tale itself feels forced.

The rest of the cast are also given exceptional, and musically unique, moments to vocally shine and expand on the theme, particularly Park and Wilcoxon who manage to root the musical into the warmth of the earth and latch their rendering into something more credible and interconnecting. Park delivers a glorious “Roots” that feeds the soul, much like Wilcoxon who unpacks a tender core with “Becca’s Song” that wraps the team up perfectly in nature’s embrace. Aziza, as the discarded and ignored wife, finds compassion and complexity in her “Looking Through This Lens“, and Piser’s interaction with Menzel’s Jesse for “Still” caps the whole forest in its connection to time, engagement, and forgiveness.

Each of these songs is marvelously delivered, which makes it all more surprising that as a whole, Redwood never fully expands into something stronger and more durable. It will work on Broadway, because of its star and the vocal heights this musical climbs thanks to the whole talented crew and cast. Yet without her centerstage hugging the tree of life, I’m not sure the musical will continue to grow that sturdily tall or remain on our horizons once Menzel leaves, regardless of how beautiful the whole thing is, both visually and vocally. Jesse’s skirting-around drive from tragedy to tree-sitter packs an undeniable punch, especially when the whole forest comes soaring into view. But beyond Menzel and the whole cast’s spectacular performances, Redwood didn’t exactly entwine its roots with mine emotionally or spiritually. I was blown away by the stunning vocals and the visual splendor, but in terms of the journey from ashes to rebirth, I was left unmoved and unconvinced.