Just Another Musical?

When I see “the musical” tagged onto any renowned play or work of fiction I cannot help but despair. I shake my head and wonder what the director’s weapon of choice will be to slaughter yet another literary masterpiece. Will it be a gaudy dance number or perhaps a window-shattering high C sung by a before-beloved heroine?
Imagine my disappointment when, after settling myself into the frayed green velvet seat at Lucie Stern theatre, I looked down at the program and saw the dreaded words: “Little Women: the Broadway Musical.” I had been looking forward to seeing the characters from the novel that I used to make my mom read over and over come alive on the stage in front of me in a display of high quality theatre. Instead, I realized, I would have witness the painful destruction of a literary classic.
The curtain goes up and I see an actor who cannot possibly be playing Jo, the strong-willed tomboy who my seven-year-old self wanted to grow up to be. This actor was tiny with delicate features, too much make-up and a high-pitched voice that could not possibly express the power and compassion of the Jo of my imagination. Engulfed in my thoughts I was not really paying attention to the goings-on of the stage until I heard the little actress playing Jo shamelessly imitate a deep manly voice as she enthusiastically acted out one of Jo’s outrageous stories. Now I was paying attention. The actress was running around the stage singing furiously, thrusting out her hands in mock battle and leaping free of an imaginary sword as she sang. Sitting there I realized this was Jo, and the enthusiasm and wildness the song allowed her captured the essence of Jo more than a monologue ever could of.
I was swept up in the story of Jo and her sisters, every single one of whom possessed not only amazing technical acting skills, but had amazing voices as well. I couldn’t help but fall in love with the men of the show who fall for two of the March sisters, who, my companion pointed out, all seemed to be duplicates of Sacred Heart teachers. There was the adorable and awkward Mr. Brooke and the jolly and passionate Laurie. As they sang to their respective beau’s, I was reminded of something a director once told me: in musical theatre, you sing when words are not adequate to express yourself. Experience has taught me that to the contrary, the glitter and pomp of “musicals” usually detract from communication of emotions but in Little Women, song is a medium for taking characters to new levels. A cast full of engaging actors and a director conscious of steering clear from the usually distractions of musical theatre made Little Women: the Broadway Musical a pleasure to watch. Instead of destroying this literary classic, music enhanced a story I have loved since I was seven years old.