Smashed

One of the great pleasures of the post-Super Bowl season has been the new television show, Smash.  It was so over-hyped in December and January that many people probably thought they had seen enough.  I confess, I have been a big fan of Katharine McPhee’s since Season 5 of American Idol, when she was robbed of the title by a considerably less talented Taylor Hicks.  In a show of girl power and support, I tuned in to the premiere of the new Steven Spielberg-produced show to see what the latest Glee-mania had wrought.  I expected to be mildly entertained.  I did not expect to be dazzled.

In short, Smash is the best thing on television since Big Bang Theory made it hip to be nerdly.  It is not a Glee rip-off as I had feared; nor is it a new spin on Fame.  It is an intelligently woven story, based on a Garson Kanin novel, of the making of a Broadway musical from the first spark of an idea to—well, that remains to be seen.  Katharine McPhee is the talented ingénue who refuses to sleep with the director, thus gets relegated to the chorus.  Angelica Huston is the scorned wife and partner of a Broadway producing legend trying to regain her dignity by producing a show on her own.  The author-composer duo struggles to complete the book and the songs despite distractions in their respective lives.  As each new character is introduced, both the musical-in-progress and the off-Broadway drama intensify.  Now in its fifth week, I am captivated.

There is a reason for my interest.  The focal point of this series is the show-within-the-show:  Marilyn The Musical.  Yes, it’s a Broadway musical about the life of none other than Marilyn Monroe.  What would, at first blush, seem to be a cliché or caricature, equipped with its own Betty-Boop-intoned leading lady, is in fact a deep and poignant story of an American tragedy.  The authors debate each story twist, showing the thought process that draws them away from the obvious (Hollywood cheesecake) to embrace the meaningful (girl just wants to be loved).   Along the way we learn that it was not just her body that made her a sex symbol, that she wanted simplicity and anonymity in her marriage to Joe DiMaggio, and that her greatest fear was that she would be turned into a national joke.  And although we know what fate lies in store for poor Marilyn, we are hopeful that the ingénue and the producer—both of them women who find themselves at rock bottom—will achieve a success more enduring in this life.

If this story is not enough to convince you to tune in on Monday nights, perhaps the music will.  You see, Smash is not just the story of a musical, it IS a musical.  The incredible team of Marc Shaiman and Scott Wittman (who wrote, among other things, Hairspray and Billy Crystal’s many Oscar productions) have written a real Marilyn The Musical.  We are treated to it only a scene at a time, as they work each week to perfect a song and dance.  The leotard-clad cast starts clumsily in the rehearsal hall to learn the lyrics and the dance steps, eventually flashing glimpses of costumed stage performers in a live production.

The songs for this musical are—and I am not ashamed to say it—better than that of any new Broadway musical I have seen in the last five years.  There was a time (sadly, too long ago) when I would walk out of the theatre singing the songs and running out to buy the album.  I think the last time I did that was Les Miserables and Phantom of the Opera.  More recently I have seen many worthy musicals (Addams Family, Book of Mormon, Catch Me If You Can, Wicked) and loved them all.  But with the exception of wanting to defy gravity (which was one great musical phrase in an otherwise flat song), I found the songs in these musicals to be remarkably forgettable. 

Not so for Marilyn.  After a few weeks I am still humming “The National Pastime” and “Let Me Be Your Star”.  I remain touched by the bittersweet “Mr. and Mrs. Smith,” which captured the sweet innocence of Marilyn and Joltin Joe as they tried in vain to carve a slice of anonymity out of their insanely public lives.  The adorable "20^th Century Fox Mambo" (they fooled me; I was expecting a ‘Fox Trot’) was a fabulous song-and-dance number that showed off the skills of the remarkable cast. 

Tonight, as I was doing the dishes and picking up the clutter, I heard on some TV entertainment magazine show that Smash was “on the bubble.”  This means that the numbers of viewers tuning in were not keeping up with network expectations—a reality of television economics that will threaten this great show.  If you like great original programming, great performances by actors, singers, and dancers, fabulous writing and composing, deep and interesting story lines, not to mention a glimpse into the inner workings of Broadway, this show is for you.  If you love musical theatre and want a freebie, this is also for you.  If you thought Katharine McPhee had it all over Taylor Hicks (and still does!), tune in and help her have the greatest revenge of all.  And if this does not convince you, then consider this:  Would you let a show this good die on the vine while Jersey Shore continues to clog the airways?

Smash can be found on NBC, Monday’s a 10 (9 central).

Tomorrow's blog:  The Enforcer