It is audacious Rupert Gould To stage a flamboyant sad alt-rock musical about teen repression and rebellion for a Christmas show. Based on Frank Wedekind’s 1891 play—banned or censored in all eras—it doesn’t have many ambiguous edges and feels more refreshing to it than it is now staged.
Set in a provincial German town dominated by cheerful Lutheranism, the story revolves around a teenager dealing with sexual desire, homosexuality, rape, suicide and back-street abortion. Their Teen Angst, originally set to songs by Duncan Sheik and Steven Satter, partly sparked after the Columbine shooting, and became a huge hit on Broadway in 2006.
This revival has been marked for the abundant talent in its young cast: Laurie Kinston as the troubled Melchior, looks like a young Eddie Redmayne and is intense, sharp and passionate on his part. Amara Okereke, as his girlfriend Wendla, makes a clever juxtaposition between shy apprehension and brazen confidence. Their on-stage chemistry travels the scale from quirky innocence to illicit pleasure and sensual passion.
Gould’s direction is also dynamic on Miriam Buter’s expressionist set, which is designed as a ladder climbing the length and width of the stage; These stairs lead from the classroom to the cemetery and assembly hall. With lighting by Jack Knowles and dazzling video designs by Finn Ross, they point to modernity despite the 19th-century setting and resemble high-school bleachers, such as on the set of Jamie Lloyd’s recent Evita.
The problem, however, is emo, rock, and pop songs with music and lyrics that sound repetitive, generic, and ultimately soporific. They also come at a considerable pace, disrupting the narrative flow, so the first half feels episodic with lyrics that attempt toward musical internal monologues, but which convey a general feeling of these characters. And the musical refrain “O, I’m gonna get injured…o, I’m gonna hurt you” feels pungent rather than dangerously edgy in its sadomasochism.
Visually, the use of a glass box in front of the stage is effective, especially in staging a suicide. But the semi-circle of glass framing the rear of the stage is never beyond sleek in its purpose. At times, the illuminated projections seem to go into overload, with graffiti appearing at repeated stages throughout the utterly messy song that looks like it’s channeling a Pink Floyd vibe.
In this old world of rigid religiosity, teachers wear masks that effectively give them sinister weirdness. The children, however, are largely in contemporary attire and this creates an intentional internal tension: Characters controlled by oppressive social and sexual codes look like they have stepped out of a teen Netflix drama and boy- and girl-band formations. In Dancing Together, it looks like the choreography is adapted from a reality TV contest or high-school musical.
More of an orchestration than an emotionally ingrained drama, the plot between Melchior and Wendla builds on power in the second half, and there are some striking moments in the production, such as Melchior’s atmospheric number The Bitch of Living, Desire. And about anxiety, and a masturbation fantasy masterfully performed by Nathan Armarkwei-Laria as Hanschen. The performances are all striking and the leads are well on their way to becoming the stars of tomorrow.