B'way/Off-B'way Reviews: Stranger Things: The First Shadow; Real Women Have Curves; Becoming Eve

Louis McCartney in
Stranger Things: The First Shadow.
Credit: Matthew Murphy and Evan Zimmerman

If you’ve been waiting for the must-see production of the Broadway season to justify plunking down your hard-earned bucks, wait no more. Stranger Things: The First Shadow, now at the Marquis after an Olivier-winning run in London, is the most spectacular, fun show on the Main Stem in many years and will scare the crap out of you. A working knowledge of the cult-status Netflix series upon which it is based is not necessary. The plot takes place before the streaming TV show begins and Kate Trefry’s intricate script stands on its own. (The original story is credited to Trefry, a writer and co-executive producer for the series; the Duffer Brothers who created the show and directed many of its episodes; and Jack Thorne, author of Harry Potter and the Cursed Child, another London and Broadway smash based on a successful fantasy/sci-fi franchise.) 

Stephen Daldry and his co-director Justin Martin have staged the complex, absorbing story like a film with smoothly flowing scenes imparting vital information and thrills. But the real stars are the other-worldly special effects and illusions created by Jamie Harrison and Chris Fisher, which rival anything you’ll see on Broadway including a horrifying invasion from another dimension. My theatergoing companion called this specific effect the new and better chandelier from Phantom of the Opera or the helicopter from Miss Saigon. I’m not going to list the more nerve-rattling and spine-shaking moments so as not to spoil your fun, but suffice it to say, look out for crashing battleships, monsters with no faces, and be prepared to scream if you’re afraid of spiders.

Louis McCartney in
Stranger Things: The First Shadow.
Credit: Matthew Murphy and 
Evan Zimmerman

Loyal viewers of the show will recognize the basic narrative template. (Full disclosure: in preparation for reviewing Stranger Things, I attempted to binge the series in a few weeks, but I only got through the first two seasons and half of the third.) The seemingly humdrum little town of Hawkins, Indiana is beset with weird occurrences. In the series, it started with the disappearance of a young boy. In the play, pets turn up dead. Gradually, we discover that a dark, ominous parallel universe is bleeding into the bucolic hamlet and a newly arrived, introverted teen holds the key to the mystery. The series commences in Reagan’s 1980s America and, in each season, whatever calamity rises up is defeated by a gang of plucky, outsider adolescents with a few token grown-ups helping out. The play skips back a generation to 1959 and the familiar adults are now the adventurous teens. Both timelines are dominated by the menacing Dr. Brenner who heads a shadowy Deep State lab which is mixed up in every cuckoo conspiracy besetting Hawkins.

The basic appeal of the series is the heroic status of the nerdy kids saving the day. The message is it’s okay to be considered weird, love science, and get good grades. The play emphasizes the painful struggles of the alienated youngsters at the center of the story. The amazing Louis McCartney repeats his London role as Henry Creel, the socially awkward loner somehow tied in with all the mysterious happenings. McCartney delivers a viscerally dynamic and shockingly physical performance as dark forces battle for Henry’s soul. Gabrielle Nevaeh is sensitive and intense as Patty Newby, the orphaned girl “from nowhere” who befriends Henry. 

Louis McCartney and Gabrielle Nevaeah
in Stranger Things: The First Shadow.
Credit: Matthew Murphy and
Evan Zimmerman

The major problem I have with Trefry’s otherwise clever script is that it ignores the elephant in the room. Patty is cast as an African-American young woman adopted by a white family, headed by the conservative high school principal no less. In 1959 Indiana, this situation would not be glossed over. The only acknowledgment here is when Patty says she bears a resemble to Ella Fitzgerald. An accurate depiction of the racism of the period might have distracted from the main story, but it would have lent a note of bitter realism and added tension.

Alison Jaye, Burke Swenson, and understudy Patrick Scott McDermott (covering for Juan Carlos at the performance attended) are energetic as the amateur young sleuths who grow up to become the parents in the series. Eric Wiegand is a riot as an obsessed theater kid. Alex Breux is all ice and steel as the dangerous Dr. Brenner. T.R. Knight and Rosie Benton shutter and shatter admirably as Henry’s troubled parents. Andrew Hovelson and Ted Koch are pompously proper as other clueless grownups. 

Daldry and Martin’s fluid and dynamic direction is abetted by the magical, moving sets of Miriam Buether, the scary, atmospheric lighting of Jon Clark, the spooky and penetrating sound design of Paul Arditti, and the grainy, gritty videos of 59 Productions. D.J. Wade composed the haunted and haunting original music and Brigitte Riffenstuel deserves kudos for the period costumes.

Florencia Cuenca, Tatianna Cordoba, and 
Justina Machado in
Real Women Have Curves.
Credit: Julieta Cervantes

There are plenty of scary moments in Stranger Things, but the new musical Real Women Have Curves has a horrifying sequence which is even more frightening because it’s really  happening across the country. Like Stranger Things, the setting is the 1980s. We are in a dress factory in Boyle Heights, Los Angeles. The ladies are hard at work on a rush order of 200 dresses which could make their brand. They hear a crash at the pillow factory next door. “Immigration!,” cries the boss Estela. She douses the lights and everyone hides under their sewing machines. There is silence for several terrifying seconds. The workers gradually emerge and resume their labors.

This scary scene in an otherwise joyful musical brings home the insecure status of undocumented aliens which persists some 40 years later. But the focus of this exuberant show is the strong bond among immigrant families and their struggles to get ahead. Based on Josefina Lopez’s play and the subsequent HBO film with a screenplay by Lopez and George LaVoo, Real Women celebrates the bond between sisters Estela and Ana and their determined mother Carmen. 

Estela labors intensely to make the dress factory a success while Ana, a budding journalist, has just received a full scholarship to attend Columbia University. But Carmen opposes Ana leaving the family when they need her the most to complete the rush order. In addition, Ana is the only citizen in the family and can therefore deal with government bureaucracy. The book by Lisa Loomer with Nell Benjamin leans a bit heavily on sentimental melodrama, but balances these soapy suds with sharp wit and a strong depiction of characters too often ignored in Broadway musicals. At one Carmen observes, “I’m 51 and I’ve working since I was 13. In gringa years, I’d be 70.”

The score by Joy Huerta and Benjamin Velez is equally snappy and irreverent as well as uplifting. The title song in which the factory ladies and Ana defy society’s body shaming and celebrate their ample shapes, brings the house down with its unapologetic defiance. In another group number tackling a subject you seldom hear about on Broadway, Carmen and the ladies welcome the onset of menopause and the exiting of their “monthly visitor.” There’s also soaring hopeful song for Ana and Itzel, a recent arrival from Guatemala, and a funny comedy number where Ana and her new boyfriend Henry attempt their first time at sex, but have no idea what to do. Sergio Trujillo skillfully directs and choreographs, combining biting humor with savvy movement. Arnulfo Maldonado’s sets create a believable LA atmosphere, along with Hana S. Kim’s videos and Natasha Katz’s lighting. WIlberth Ganzalez and Paloma Young’s costumes blend the everyday life of the workers with their high-fashion aspirations.

Tatiana Cordoba, Florencia Cuenca, and Justina Machado are fierce, funny, and fiery as Ana, Estela, and Carmen, as are Mason Reeves as Henry and Aline Mayagoitia as Itzel. Real Women is the real thing, a Broadway show with heart and courage addressing marginalized people. 

Tommy Dorfman in Becoming Eve.
Credit: Matthew Murphy

Speaking of real women and underrepresented populations, the modern world of fluid sexuality clashes with the rigid rules of Jewish orthodoxy in Becoming Eve, Emil Weinstein’s powerful and thought-provoking stage adaptation of Abby Chava Stein’s memoir. Presented by New York Theater Workshop at the Abrons Arts Center (recently closed), the compassionate play switches narrative tracks between the present-day confrontation between Chava (Hebrew for Eve), a transgender woman and her traditionalist rabbi father (with facilitation by reform rabbi Jonah) and flashbacks to Eve’s past. Chava has not revealed her transition from man to woman to her dad and seeks to soften to blow by citing Talmudic scripture. With the aide of Jonah, Chava has prepared examples from the story of Abraham and Isaac, referencing a scholar’s interpretation that Isaac had a female soul and was transformed to a male when Abraham was called to sacrifice his life by God. 

In the flashbacks, Chava is embodied by elaborate puppets designed by Amanda Villalobos while her voice is provided by the actor playing the role, an expressive Tommy Dorfman, suggesting that her former self was not her true being. Tyne Rafaeli’s direction carefully balances the forceful debate with the conflicting emotions of each of the parties. Dorfman’s tormented but ultimately triumphant Chava, Richard Schiff’s rigid but intellectual father, and Brandon Uranowitz’s amicable Jonah give depth to each corner of this dramatic triangle.  

Stranger Things: The First Shadow: Opened April 22 for an open run. Marquis Theater, 210 W. 46th St., NYC. Running time: two hours and 45 mins. including intermission. broadwaydirect.com.

Real Women Have Curves: Opened April 27 for an open run. James Earl Jones Theater, 138 W. 48th St., NYC. Running time: two hours and 20 mins. including intermission. 

Becoming Eve: April 7-27. New York Theater Workshop at the Abrons Arts Center, 466 Grand St., NYC. Running time: one hour, 50 mins. with no intermission.