[title of review]

The life of a struggling artist is often romanticized via big-picture questions, the kind that keep a person up at night. Why am I here? What do I want to say? Who will appreciate my art? “[title of show],” a musical comedy that ran at the Adams Pool Theater from Feb. 13-15, centered around those self-referential, artistic questions.

Protagonists Jeff (Christian J. Potterton of Berklee College of Music) and Hunter (Jacob D. Rienstra ’17) are writers looking to make their mark on Broadway, and they want the audience to know it. In fact, the entire show is semi-autobiographical, based on the aspirations of Jeff Bowen and Hunter Bell, “[title of show]” composer/lyricist and book writer, respectively, and their real-life efforts to write an original musical for submission to an upcoming theater festival. Along with friends Heidi (Brooke E. Sweeney ’17) and Susan (Taylor Kay Phillips ’15), whom Jeff and Hunter (the characters) cast in their musical about writing a show, the duo mused, sang, and danced about writer’s block, type casting, naysayers, fundraising, and the ultimate goals of their production. “We could ask significant questions,” Jeff and Hunter sang in the catchy number “Two Nobodies in New York.” “We could get important points across / Like? Are we writing for art? / And is art a springboard for fame? / And will fame get us a paycheck? / But will a paycheck mean that we’re sellouts?”

The production’s success stemmed from the company’s renditions of “[title of show]”’s songs, which Broadway die-hards in particular could appreciate. Replete with references to Bernadette Peters, Ben Vereen, and other Broadway greats, the show catered to people who love musical theater as much as the actors themselves and mocked anyone who merely “wants to see Paris Hilton as Mame.” Viewers in the inner circle—that is, who could share in the Broadway jokes—might have had trouble stifling their laughter throughout the production. Indeed, it was clear that the actors (all of whom also served as directors) channeled their passion for musical theater into their performances and had a blast both with one another and the Broadway-ness of it all. For a viewer unacquainted with Tavern on the Green parties and Shubert Alley, however, the show might not have been as enjoyable.

The actors moved in and out of scenes by announcing their own stage directions, which they promptly followed—making it clear that, at its core, the show was about people coming together for the love of writing a show. “Are we in this scene now?” Heidi asked, after a musical number in which she and Susan inspired Jeff and Hunter to overcome their writer’s block. “I thought we were your spirit guides,” Susan added. The production’s overall tone remained conversational and upbeat, with jazz-hand-heavy dance numbers and late-night takeout phone calls adding to that levity. Ultimately, “[title of show]” was a feel-good experience.

Some transitions between scenes, however, were not as strong. When the set’s single spotlight faded to black, pre-recorded voicemail messages among castmates—messages designed to advance the plot—played as the festival deadline approached. The messages, more like inside jokes between friends, felt a bit scattered and drawn-out and did not link the disparate scenes as they were intended to do. The show’s musical numbers spoke for themselves, strengthening the bonds among actors and highlighting their love for their work; in contrast, the voicemails did not move the story forward.

Despite these garbled phone messages, the cast members formed close ties in scenes throughout the production. In fact, several actors had worked on “Dogfight” last semester and clearly continued to build relationships onstage. Whenever Rienstra, Potterton, Sweeney, and Phillips were together, at times discussing outlandish ideas and breaking into exaggerated dance moves (think frozen vegetables, monkeys and speedboats, and increasingly large bottles of soda), their energy was contagious. Watching this particular group of friends act out their love of the theater became much more than simply seeing a cast of actors perform. “I’d rather be nine people’s favorite thing than a hundred people’s ninth favorite thing,” they sang in a scene toward the end of the production. In the end, while “[title of show]” may not be a hundred people’s ninth favorite thing, it certainly has the potential to be nine people’s favorite thing.

—Staff writer Melissa C. Rodman can be reached at melissa.rodman@thecrimson.com. Follow her on Twitter @melissa_rodman.