Theatre in Review: 44: The Musical (Daryl Roth Theatre) If elected to Congress, I will endeavor to pass the Save US Presidents from Musical Theatre Act. Designed to protect audiences rather than politicians, it will outlaw the concept, creation, and composition of musicals about sitting and/or retired leaders of the free world. The republic will thank me for it. Indeed, the history of this alliance is a checkered one. Rodgers and Hart had a medium-sized success with I'd Rather Be Right, in which Franklin Roosevelt solves the nation's problems, and those of a pair of lovers, in two acts. FDR returns in Annie, getting inspiration for the New Deal from the moppet of the title. An offstage Harry Truman is the butt of many a joke in Call Me Madam, but when the show's creators followed up with Mr. President, they invented a fictional first family. JFK: A Musical Drama closed quickly in Dublin and limped along for years, looking for an American production. (Some wag in The Irish Times wrote, "Can you remember where you were, the night they said JFK had been shut?") Clinton: The Musical had a brief, unspectacular run despite a riotous turn by Kerry Butler as Hillary. (Maybe because of his support for the NEA, Richard Nixon got an opera.) The trend continues with 44: The Musical, which plays like a series of old, off-week SNL sketches strung together, transporting us back to the days of John Kerry, John Edwards, Jeremiah Wright, the tan suit brouhaha, GOP filibusters, the ACA, and Mitch McConnell's Senate reign of terror. Eli Bauman, author of the book, music, and lyrics, as well as the lead producer, is out to spoof everyone swirling around the forty-fourth president and his wife, and he's not particular about it. The jokes include a group called "W.H.A.M: White Hetero Affluent Men." The media is represented by a slanted network called "Faux News." Lindsey Graham enters with a parasol and fan, generally carrying on like Aunt Pittypat. The MyPillow guy (really the product of a later administration) shows up for a brief commercial: "Do you need a good night's sleep and help with your boner? Then, have I got the product for you: My Pillow Viagra!" Bauman doesn't seem to get that satire has a short shelf life: Thus, we are expected to laugh at the sight of a bitter Hillary Clinton lamenting what might have been. Then again, at least she is still around, commenting on the political scene. Also on tap are Sarah Palin doing a modified strip, followed by a pole dance. An inordinate amount of time is devoted to the late Herman Cain, depicted here as the GOP's token Black. Why is anyone wasting time on these has-beens? But such gags are par for the course in a show that believes in the cultural currency of the flop film Gigli and Liam Neeson's career as an action star. As Obama, T. J. Wilkins is exempt from spoofing, which leaves him with nothing much to do. The mononymic Shanice works hard as Michelle, putting her powerful voice to good use. Still, some of her dialogue leaves one embarrassed for her: Getting romantic with hubby, she says, "So how about for tonight, you forget about the collapse of the global economy... be my George Washington... and climb down my cherry tree?" The hilarious standout is Chad Doreck as Joe Biden, the show's narrator and emcee, here portrayed as a wild-eyed pixie with some amusing eccentric dance moves -- when he isn't gingerly stepping down a small flight of stairs, fearful of having a geriatric accident. (A bit in which, lying on a table, he tries to get off it without breaking something, is the funniest thing in the show.) He also has a shaky grip on reality: "Wait a minute -- Teddy Roosevelt died?" he asks, alarmed. Whatever the fate of 44, Doreck is likely to enjoy longer runs in better musicals. Bauman's score has some catchy R&B hooks, but everyone is made to sing the refrain "Muthafukin' Obama" with such insistence that you won't be able to get it out of your head for days. The lyrics often stretch to the breaking point: Michelle, chiding her husband, sings, "Thought you'd be another Roosevelt/But you can't stop feelin' sorry for yourself." Even if you squint, it doesn't really rhyme. Somebody complains that Obama is "like a Nazi Leon Trotsky." (Close but no cigar.) Hillary vents, "I knew it was always a crapshoot/Since I was a baby in my Pampers pantsuit." Someone, get that man a rhyming dictionary! Given the humor's broad-as-a-barn-door aspect, it's particularly egregious when 44 tries to get serious in the second act with a sequence about church and school shootings, referencing Obama's searing rendition of "Amazing Grace" at a funeral in Charleston. A number about the killing of Osama Bin Laden only reveals that Bauman has no idea how to treat such events. The set design, by Julio Himede and The Yellow Studio, is a clever cartoon of a White House room filled with secret doors; the upstage video screen features a flood of images that takes in Rosie the Riveter, Miami Vice's Crockett and Tubbs, Tupac Shakur, Lionel Richie, Katie Couric, Anderson Cooper, and dozens more. One wishes the screen were better integrated into the set -- it's a blatant white vertical strip at upstage center -- or that the lighting designers Nathan W. Scheuer and Natali Arco used it more consistently for color treatments when the projector is off. Matthew Hemesath's costumes range from what you would expect (power pantsuits for Hillary, a legion of red ties for the Republicans) and some that are pretty startling, including a pimped-out ensemble, including a floor-length red fur coat, for McConnell. Jonathan A. Burke's sound design is solid, especially in terms of intelligibility. I will add that the youngish audience attending my press preview had a roaring good time, so maybe there is an audience for 44. It was interesting seeing it on the night of the Democratic blowout election: Maybe the show works as a kind of pep rally for disaffected liberals hoping for a 2026 resurgence. (The night's biggest showstopper consists of everyone singing, "Fuck you, Ted Cruz," over and over.) If so, let's hope they employ more discernment at the ballot box than they're showing at the Daryl Roth.--David Barbour 
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