Absolutely free and I still wanted some money back...

We got some free tickets to Brooklyn The Musical this past week. I've wanted to see the show for some time now and I went in ready to love it. I tried to like it. I really, really tried.

Everything in this show is recycled. And that is both the show's major disaster and single notable element. The recycling starts as soon as you enter the theater and realize that the set is a dumbed-down version of Rent's stage, complete with onstage trash and scaffolding. As the cast appears in their dirty trash-picked attire, we recognize that these kids are homeless and downtrodden, but as the cringe-worthy first number begins, we recognize that these kids come with a message of hope and love. And cliche.

We are supposed to be transported to the magically dirty borough of Brooklyn, specifically under the Brooklyn Bridge. Instead it feels like you've been transported to the magically long-running Rent's Nederlander Theater, specifically four years ago when that show's cast was still energetic yet crappy. The show tries to depict Brooklyn as a place filled with grime and streetsingers, but falls very short of capturing anything of substance that wasn't left over from Jonathan Larson's East Village. Really it could be any slum in the universe and does nothing to capture Brooklyn.

The show goes to great lengths, as the narrator constantly reminds, to explain that they are trying to tell an urban fairy tale. What that fairy tale is about is impossible to say because there is no focus. It starts with a recycled Miss Saigon plot, with two lovers being torn apart by war leaving a child in their wake. To be more exact, its the first draft of Miss Saigon that someone pulled out of the trash.

Narrated by a "Streetsinger" (Cleavant Derricks, Tony winner for Dreamgirls), the musical tells the rags-to-riches story of the title character, Brooklyn (Eden Espinosa), a young woman living in Paris whose parents are Taylor (Kevin Anderson), a troubled, drug-addicted Vietnam veteran, and Faith (Karen Olivo), a dancer. Orphaned at a young age by her mother's untimely death and her brokenhearted father's abandonment, Brooklyn travels to America in search of both a pop music career and her father. There she comes into conflict with the sassy Paradice (Ramona Keller), who doesn't exactly welcome the competition.

My recap does the show way too much justice though, as it implies the plot is not a jumbled mess. At first you ask yourself, "is this show about unrequited love, or family, or happy endings, or an American Idol sing-off?" By the sixth terrible song, the question becomes, "who cares?" For a group of down-on-their-luck homeless, they are awfully perky. If the program insists the time is the present, and the father fought in Vietnam (which leads to one of the most absurdly cliched and badly done sequences on Broadway), how is the daughter only 20? I would suggest you do the math, but even that would be too much effort . The entire show asks nothing of the audience. No need to think here. Just believe in miracles. Or something.

Every song seems to have been written by someone who grew up not on musicals, but on American Idol. The overly-emotive and embarrassingly corny lines are unreal. We learn that "life is like a shooting star," that "when you change someone's life, you change your own," and that, yes, "the world's a stage and we are the players." Not surprisingly, Brooklyn insists "I believe in miracles" and "love will conquer all." Groundbreaking! GAG! To be fair though, the two main divas can sing and they belt the hell out of this drivel at every turn.

There isn't any element of originality or truth to be found here. Especially if you are looking for the real Brooklyn character. Rather than having any poignancy or power to the music, practically every song is a screamer, as if any one of them could be the big finale. I found myself praying that were true. "Maybe this is the last one. Okay how about this one, please?"

The one success that Brooklyn can tout is the endlessly inventive costumes by Tobin Ost. Much like the uninspired set, the costumes are made by recycling garbage and city detritus into clothes and accessories. Tube socks become elbow-length gloves. Doritios bags become a stylish headdress. Bubblewrap becomes an elegant stole. And police tape and garbage bags become a surprisingly sexy skin-tight evening dress. The designs are inspired, but when you leave a musical humming the costumes, you know the show is a disaster.


An ill-conceived show, recycled from past shows and bad pop songs is embarrassing enough to have on Broadway. As the only new musical till next year, Brooklyn The Musical will not do. When one produces a show this terrible the least they could do is provide an intermission to allow the audience to leave during in protest. Being denied an indignant early exit just proves what little respect the show's producers have for a Broadway audience.