The Lost Boys
I saw the film of The Lost Boys once, long ago. I remembered enough of it to have a clear understanding of the story I was walking into when seeing the Broadway musical adaptation, but not enough to not be able to experience the musical as it's own entity. The shortest summary of my feelings, if you want a quick "yay" or "nay" is the heart of what makes folks love the story is intact and the performances are strong. But there are some inherent dramaturgical issues with the original that are only exacerbated by some additional poor choices on the part of the Broadway creative team. Go see the musical for the heart of the story, the performers, the spectacular special effects and aerial choreography. Don't get your hopes up too much for the score (namely the lyrics), or the power of adaptation to elevate the things that didn't work in the film. Indeed, there are cringe moments here that are unique to the musical alone.
The Lost Boys is a film I always heard the men in my life talk about with deep affection. Not the sort of light, "fan boy" affection, the kind where the story really moved them and spoke to something singular about their experience of the world.
I get it. The Lost Boys is a genius metaphor for the singular experience of coming into manhood. As a woman, I deeply appreciate, and I tremendously empathize with it, but I am aware that it is a story I will never understand on the level that the men in my life do. And that is part of why I love it. It offers me a unique window, and a means to empathize and relate them. It is for ALL of us, even though the experience it explores is very much, singularly male. It's the rare story that doesn't pass the Bechdel test that, frankly, shouldn't.
The story, in its essence, is this: Teenager Michael is moving from Arizona to California with his mom, Lucy) and pre-teen brother (Sam) in order to escape from their abusive father. Once there, Michael encounters a gang of the coolest guys he's ever seen - led by the charismatic David. These boys represent the paragon of a certain kind of masculinity - the kind boys are told, at best subtextually, by our culture, that they should aspire to be. Sam, meanwhile, is just this side of boyhood, and finds his new friends in the local comic book store. The relationship, and dichotomy between Michael and Sam is elegant and complex (and something I don't see in stories much.) They are both dealing with masculine expectations, but on diametrically opposite ends of the "adult/boy" line.
But the true heart of the story is the relationship between David and Michael. If we read into the Peter Pan analogy the title (and much of the story) implies, this is Peter Pan with the slanted perspective of focusing on the relationship between Peter and, well, Michael. What would it mean for Michael to be swept away by the coolest boy there ever was? That's just what happens here. David takes a shine to Michael...just why we never quite know (in the best way.) Maybe it's because Michael reminds David of him... a young man without a father figure desperately searching for a community. Maybe it's Michael's guilelessness. Maybe it's that Michael has the potential to turn into a paragon of "coolness" himself (he already rides a motorcycle, after all - the one "good" thing his father did manage to pass on to him), and he is fearlessly committed to "keeping up" with David and his gang. There is a girl in here too (of course there is.) The mysterious Star who seems to be David's girl, but who quickly takes to Michael. Maybe David wants to please her (he's not really the jealous kind.) But, as he says in one of the best exchanges of the evening:
Michael (speaking to David about Star): I don't want to get in the middle.
David: Don't worry, Michael. She won't come between us.
It is the platonic, but obsessive relationship between Michael and David that MAKES the story. A dark, adult masculinity initiating the younger generation into the club.
And dark it is. The metaphor at the center of everything is that (spoiler alert) David and his gang are vampires. Not the sparkly, Twilight kind (The Lost Boys came out in the 1980's). Not even the romantic, angsty Anne Rice vampires (Interview With The Vampire came out in 1976.) These are flat out demonic. There is nothing beautiful in what they are, other than the facade they show to the outside world, and the found family they have created for each other. They are murderers. Bullies. They are the worst of masculinity dressed up in a seductive facade. This is not a dark angel seducing their victim...they are the scary guys in the back of an alley waiting to decimate a vulnerable girl (or guy.) If Michael wants to become the "paragon of masculinity" he desires to be... he's going to have to flat out embrace being evil.
The parallels between Michael's abusive father and David "turning" Michael into what he is (or what he might/will be) has particular resonance with the idea of a "head vampire" as the father who turns all his "children" into literal monsters. When Michael starts acting weird after being "turned" his behavior includes having hallucinations of his father. When he tries to fight back against the imagined specter he comes back to reality just in time to keep from seriously injuring Sam. Sam's exit line includes: "You're just like dad."
In the meantime, his little brother Sam has, through his new friends (and comic books) figured out what's going on with Michael and his friends, and sets up a Goonies-like plan to rescue him. His single mother is also being wooed by a too-nice guy whose purpose in the story doesn't fall into place until the literal eleventh hour.
What comes between the story and absolute genius is the over saturation of additional metaphors that muddy the water, and a giant left turn in the final act that is the kind of twist that means jettisoning the principle story (and some characters) purely in order to make it work. In this piece we are dealing with vampires, and the "cool guys" and so many Peter Pan analogies they start to contradict each other, and superhero metaphors, and a simple family drama, and, and, and... David himself all but disappears as a central character about three-fourths of the way through the story, both Star and Lucy are analogized to Wendy, with David being set up as a clear Peter, only for us to be told, no, actually this other character is meant to fit that bill... But, suffice it to say, the musical has inherited most of these challenges. They don't fix them, but they didn't create them either.
The moment of David accepting the drink that will turn him into a vampire (not knowing that's what it will do to him) does actually have a bit more thematic resonance in the film than it does here. He's handed a bottle of what looks like wine while all the guys are egging him on: "Michael! Michael! Michael!" Star tries to warn him: "Michael, don't!" It's easy to see how Michael could interpret all of this as some sort of fraternity hazing, with the "little lady" being nervous about how intense it is (especially given that, in the film, David has just made Michael's food seem like it was maggots and worms instead of rice and noodles. A "parlor trick", apparently.) He drinks confidently - after all, what's the harm in underage drinking with your buddies? Or, even if it is blood, proving your manhood by not being squeamish. Ultimately, that drink has a lot of major consequences for Michael. Unintended and forever ones. But, really, isn't that what happens when we're a little too eager and committed to join a frat house? And even if it is just wine...being egged on to drink a bunch of wine, well, that never ended WELL for the person who went through with it. Indeed, the David/Michael dynamic is the closest thing I've seen to the Leading Player/Pippin dynamic (specifically the original with Ben Vereen), including the most recent Broadway revival. But in the musical, gone are most of the earlier "hazing" metaphors. Gone is Start telling him not to drink. Here, it feels almost...casual.
The musical cuts the character of the Grandfather - why, I don't know. In the film the Grandfather is a beloved character - a surly taxidermist that provides a safe haven to his daughter and grandsons escaping their abuser. He helps in fighting the vampires. He is a positive example of mature masculinity. In the musical he's been dispensed with. In fact, it's his death (and his leaving his home to Lucy) that allows the family to move cross country. There are even some gags about his ashes in an urn. But...why isn't he here? It's not clear.
Let's get the things that don't work out of the way.
I'll be honest, the ensemble frequently felt like they were "phoning it in." Choreography wasn't sharp and there was a general lack of energy in a lot of moments that NEEDED sharp energy. Some of that might be down to the fact that frequently it made no sense for the ensemble to be involved in the numbers they were in. This is a generally insular story, and it sticks out like a sore thumb when suddenly a group of people are present who technically shouldn't be there, and are clearly just onstage to fill out the space and sweeten the vocals (if the production had leaned into it as a theatrical convention it would have been fine, but they keep trying to disguise the ensemble as "characters" we know shouldn't actually be there.)
The props were uneven and at times disappointing. All of the "food" onstage (and food is used for important reasons in the storytelling of multiple scenes) consists of what's supposed to pass for dry noodles... there's a moment when Michael gets dinner out of the fridge - clearly Chinese takeout. When he drops his food on the floor it's a neat pile of dry noodles (would any restaurant actually sell such a thing?) that is clearly there to be easy to clean up (could you at least put a little dye on them to have something passing for sauce?) The same thing is then served in the big family dinner scene. The great meal that's served is dry noodles with nothing on them and nothing else on the table. It reminds me of the props that were recently called out by critics in Dog Day Afternoon. Who approved these choices? The fact that critics are noticing problems with props in a Broadway show is, really, kind of shocking.
There are also odd dramaturgical choices... Michael meets Star for the first time on the beach boardwalk where she offers to pierce his ear. He exchanges a few lines of dialogue with her but, for all their "connection" she might as well be a featured extra. Then in the next scene he sees her performing onstage with David and his band and is suddenly gobsmacked. "Who is she?" he asks. Um...she's the girl you were talking to ten seconds ago that you couldn't have cared less about... It was such a confusing moment that I had to do a triple take to confirm that it was actually the same performer/character and not a new, different person.
The show leans HARD into the Peter Pan references - including a very on the nose nod when during a not-date-date Lucy and her beau stop by an old children's playground - with two large signs labeled "Neverland" hanging above it.
There is a LOT of pandering in added elements to this production - most notably in the female characters and the character of Sam. This, like, sadly, many productions these days, is going out of it's way to advertise that it is "woke" to the fact that "we must have ALL the representation in all the things." I am all for represtentation - when it is necessary to the story and/or correcting a past wrong. But The Lost Boys is a story about the masculine experience. I think that's fine. Not every story has to be hitting on every demographic, and, frankly, I think men could use a story about how they have been victims of the toxic masculine culture too, and that integrity, love, sensitivity and sacrifice are important aspects of the human AND masculine experience. Like I said, this is not a story that has, or, more importantly, should have a lot of female characters. Frankly, it's not about us. And as much as I want to be represented in storytelling, I don't need to be personally represented in everything.
But here, clearly, the creative team (pretty much all male, ironic given what I'm about to say,) saw that there are really only two speaking female characters in the original and felt they needed to "rectify" that. They did so, namely, by constantly taking the action away from the central story and putting it on Michael's love interest, Star, and his mother, Lucy. There are only so many times we need to hear Star sing about how alone she is or how connected she feels to Michael (ironic that in expanding a female character they really didn't give her any new material except, singularly, in relation to her male love interest.) But they've also made a male character female in the most shoehorned way imaginable. When the family first arrives in California, Sam meets "The Frog Brothers" in the local comic book story. These are two brothers, Sam's age, who are convinced there are vampires around, and become the driving force behind the plans to kill the vamps and save Michael. Here one of the Frog Brothers (still called the Frog Brothers) is a girl. Her first name is Alan. She is brilliantly played by Jennifer Duka (I LOVED watching her onstage), but it it painfully clear that a weird plot hole now exists singularly because they wanted to increase the number of women onstage (the fact that they call themselves the Frog Brothers, and that her first name is Alan is never actually addressed...)
And then there's Sam. Sam has always had queer undertones - an important element in the storytelling in that his sensitive, non-conformist nature needs to serve as a stark contrast to his ultra heteronormative masc older brother. Part of what traditionally made his character so endearing (and, again, aided the story) is that he wasn't yet old enough to be thrust in to the adult male world and all the things that come along with that. Sure, people know they're queer at all different ages, but part of the point of Sam specifically is that he wasn't quite aware of all that. He's reading comic books. He has a Goonies-esque relationship with his friends. He couldn't be less interested in dating, he just wants to be a kid and play. It's that sweet, boyish innocence that is largely responsible for saving Michael.
But here, he had to be given a giant, bold, up in neon lights gay subplot. His queerness is hinted at throughout the show (often in charming, sweet ways), but in the second act he is given a song, "Superpower" where, feeling empowered to take on the vamps, he starts to feel like he might have some agency and power in the world. All well and good. But immediately he is surrounded by a, quite literally, LGBTQ+ rainbow flag of ensemble members dressed as colorful superheroes. He then sings the lyric (I did not receive a libretto in my press kit, so I don't remember the exact wording...)
"something, something, something HERE
AND IT'S OK TO BE QUEER"
What? When was that ever an actual concern for the character? It hit the audience so negatively over the head that when that lyric was sung, in addition to the light, sparse smattering of obligatory applause for a sentiment I hope we can all agree with, there was an audible collective groan. The piece is also clearly set in 1987 (the first thing we see is a projection of the year on the show curtain) and, as supportive as many were of queerness at the time, it was certainly not embraced with open arms in the way it is (or at least should be) today. This moment felt like a giant break of the fourth wall with the creative team exclaiming "SEE! WE'RE WOKE!" It makes no sense to the character or the story being told.
Between The Lost Boys and last season's Queen of Versailles, it seems director Michael Arden might be having a bit of a creative dry spell. He was the director who could work magic and do no wrong. But with these offerings he's somewhat missing the mark. I'm shocked that some of the creative and dramaturgical decisions were approved, and his direction, while serviceable, isn't elevating the material.
The music is excellent, the lyrics are not. I wish I had a libretto so I could directly quote some, but suffice it to say the rhymes are SO dull and on the nose you'd be kicked out of the BMI workshop for settling for them. Most songs are forgettable and don't advance the story or truly reveal something new about the character. Shoshana Bean is a powerhouse - but with her showstopping act two song "Wild", it's her and her vocals we're applauding for, not the character. It's a great sentiment - "I miss the days when I was wild like my children are now." But if it were cut from the show absolutely nothing would change. In fact, ironically, it seems to be arguing for Michael to be going all in on his commitment to David and his gang. The music is catchy and unique in style for a Broadway score. The arrangements and musical direction are absolutely stunning (the ensemble does their heavy lifting in the vocal department.) There are several moments when music becomes acapella and it's truly incredible. The strings in the orchestrations are incredibly affective.
The performers are great and sound fantastic. LJ Benet is wonderful as Michael. He's got an incredible, very unique (in the best way) voice, and he hits just the right emotional balance between cool man and vulnerable, just out of boyhood "kid." Honestly, I actually preferred his performance to that of Jason Patric. Ali Louis Bourzgui is top notch as David - especially impressive as he burst onto the scene a couple years ago as Tommy in Tommy on Broadway - an incredibly different type of role. Bourzgui has the challenge of making lines that, on paper, might come across as cliché and, frankly, poorly written (it's long been joked about that the character of David never speaks without adding "Michael" to whatever sentence he's saying. I don't know if a characters name has ever been said quite so many times in a story) seem cool, mysterious and magical - and he does so with the same skill as Kiefer Sutherland did in the film. His voice is also incredible and, frankly, the show looses its shimmer whenever he's not onstage. Maria Wirries is...fine...as Star. Frankly she doesn't have a ton to work with. Shoshana Bean is lovely as Lucy - with her vocals stealing the show. As I said, Jennifer Duka is a standout as Alan. And Paul Alexander Nolan is always a VIP.
The special effects and aerial work are top notch. The use of doubles is brilliant and, frankly, I don't know how they're doing the falls and drops that they're doing, safely, eight times a week. Markus Maruette is the Special Effects Designer/Supervisor and has also worked on Stranger Things: The First Shadow, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child and The Illusionists. It shows. The aerial design is by Gwyneth Larson and Billy Mulholland and the aerial choreography is by Lauren Yalango-Grant and Christopher Cree Grant. I've heard through the grapevine that Flying By Foy was also involved (Flying By Foy basically originated aerial work on Broadway with the original production of Peter Pan and have gone on to pretty much handle all flying in every Broadway production period, and every regional production of Peter Pan. Their work is great - especially given how many people are in the air, on wildly different tracks at any given time - while they're singing their hearts out. Training folks to do the kind of aerial work required in this show, from scratch, is no mean feat, especially when you're talking about characters who can't give away that their center of gravity and weight, while in the air, is singularly in their hips.
The lighting design by Michael Arden and Jen Schriever is great, as is the costume design by Ryan Park, sound design by Adam Fisher, wig and hair design by David Brian Brown and Makeup design by Christina Grant.
The fight direction, surprisingly, by Sordelet, Inc. (a Broadway mainstay with a dossier of brilliant work) was a bit lackluster. That could have been down to the execution, not the choreography. It was very clear when we were going into a "stage combat" moment, and those moments felt "safe" at the expense of, albeit clearly pretend, realism. Attacks were gentle, and "distance" was always clear. I'd rather have that than have something go wrong, but I would expect more from a piece like this.
This may end up being the first Broadway "Vampire musical" that largely works. Vampire musicals historically have a horrible (almost cursed?) track record on Broadway - from Lestat to Dance of the Vampires. If you can get a ticket to The Lost Boys that cost-wise doesn't bleed you dry (waka waka) I'd do it. Is it perfect? Far from. But is it worthwhile? Absolutely.
Laura Sele
Lost Boys is currently playing on Broadway at the Palace Theatre
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