Theatre in Review: Bare (New World Stages)

	Photo: Chad Batka

The great world spins faster these days, but musicals are made at an increasingly glacial pace. This is not to their advantage. Consider the case of Bare, which first saw the light of day near the end of the Clinton administration, traveling a long and crooked path to its current commercial mounting in New York. It began life in California as Bare: A Pop Opera, a through-composed work by Damon Intrabartolo (music, libretto) and Jon Hartmere (libretto). It was staged Off Off Broadway in 2004, attracting a youthful audience, but the expected commercial transfer never happened. Productions proliferated, however, in cities ranging from Houston to Windsor, Ontario. Meanwhile, the show underwent a significant overhaul, swapping out the pop opera format for a traditional book musical approach. Hartmere is now the sole possessor of the credit for book and lyrics. Additional music has been provided by Lynne Shankel. Kristin Hanggi, the original director, long ago departed for Rock of Ages; the current stager is Stafford Arima, who seems to be making a career out of trying to rescue troubled teen musicals (see: Carrie).

And what has all this labor produced? A show that sort of works, at least in fits and starts. Twelve years ago, it must have seemed like a fairly daring idea -- a musical about a troubled gay romance in a Catholic school -- but, after three full seasons of Glee, the passing of marriage equality laws in several states, and dozens of It Gets Better videos, Bare is now one small voice in a very large conversation, a fact that makes it easier to overlook its small strengths and note its glaring flaws.

The action of Bare turns on the love affair of Jason and Peter, schoolmates in a boarding school, its location unspecified. Jason is a handsome blond jock for whom popularity has never been a question. Peter is nerdier, needier, more on the fringe of things. Surrounding them is a network of friends and acquaintances who become involved in their story: Ivy, the pretty, scandal-tainted transfer student (did she or didn't she sleep with a teacher at her previous school?) who has an eye for Jason; Nadia, Jason's troubled, drug-dealing sister, who has it in for Ivy; and Matt, an average guy who foolishly thinks he has a chance with Ivy. Complicating matters is the fact that all of them have been cast in a production of Romeo and Juliet, a play informed by themes of furtive young love and social conflict that echo the predicaments of Jason, Peter, et al.

Bare doesn't put its best foot forward; it presents its characters so stripped of detail that they are little more than high school archetypes. They have been particularly parsimonious with Peter, who is defined almost entirely by his feelings for Jason. (We have no idea of his interests, goals, or family life, for example.) This is especially strange, because the show tends to take Peter's side, presenting him as the victim of Jason, who wants to hold onto his big-man-on-campus status at all costs. It isn't until well into the show that Jason, in a rare and welcome burst of realism, points out that if they go public with their relationship, as Peter would like, they will almost certainly be kicked out of school.

Peter is not the only rough sketch trying to pass for a fully drawn character. Aside from a few hints about an awful family life, the authors don't explain how one set of parents produced both the overachieving Jason and the rage-addicted Nadia. Whether Nadia's hatred of Ivy is the product of anything other than free-floating rage is never made clear. The scenes of conflict between the show's two authority figures, the prevaricating Father Mike and the bracingly honest Sister Joan, couldn't be more wooden. Missi Pyle does nice work, neatly underplaying Sister Joan's wry remarks, but she is also saddled with a bizarre, jarringly campy dream sequence in which she doubles as the Virgin Mary appearing to Peter in the guise of a disco diva, complete with backup singers.

Bare picks up dramatic steam at the end of the first act, when two characters engage in an extremely ill-advised sexual encounter, and we see its ripple effect, breaking hearts all around the campus. There's a clever second-act twist in which an incriminating photo, shot using a smartphone, is mass-emailed to the school, causing a shift in the fortunes of several characters. (Even more interesting, the bombshell revelation contained in the photo is found in the background; you have to stare at it for a second to realize what it means.) And Jason Hite makes something genuinely touching out of Jason's increasingly desperate insistence that he can hold onto Peter and his popularity. This leads to a quietly devastating reversal, when Peter gently informs Jason that it's time for both of them to move on; suddenly the weaker partner is revealed to be the stronger.

Even in Bare's best moments, however, nagging questions abound. The show's effect depends on Jason and Peter's being the only gay students, an unlikely possibility, to say the least -- especially in the drama department. Their isolation is remarkable in other ways as well. If either of them ever used a chat room or other form of social media to explore their gay identity, we don't hear about it. (You'd think there would be a poster of Curt Colfer somewhere.) Also, aside from the episode with the disco Virgin Mary, the show is plagued by other tonal imbalances. There's the inevitable Jewish kid to allow the authors to cram in a couple of oy vey jokes and a ditzy, cheerful Asian girl who seems lifted from one of the lesser Disney Channel sitcoms. The songs tend to strike the same note of angst and longing, and the rhymes are often distressingly flat. Travis Wall's overcomplicated and often derivative choreography adds little to the overall effect.

Whenever they have the opportunity, the young and talented cast convincingly embodies the unsolvable agonies of adolescence. As noted above, Hite gets better as the show goes on, and Taylor Trensch's natural charm goes a long way toward making Peter into a compelling character, touching in his openheartedness even when he is making unrealistic demands on Jason. As Ivy, Elizabeth Judd has a nice, easy touch that doesn't obscure the bruised heart underneath. Barrett Wilbert Weed makes Nadia into a sadly likable troublemaker.

Like its characters, the production design is both trendy and awkward. The set, by the ever-inventive Donyale Werle, is covered with thousands of Instagram photos, a clever conceit for a show in which photography plays a key role. (William Cusick's projections, which consist mostly of photos of the cast, expand on the theme of how young people see themselves and how they present themselves to others.) But the scenery is also odd and ungainly, an overcomplicated mélange of elements, including an enormous door that opens to represent a confessional; a variety of levels and cubby holes where characters can conceal themselves and/or eavesdrop; and a rolling unit that represents several locations. Howell Binkley lights the musical numbers with his usual skill. Tristan Raines' costumes are at their cleverest in showing how each character manages to personalize his or her school uniform. Keith Caggiano's sound design achieves a good balance of voices and instruments, although he occasionally goes a little heavy on the reverb effects.

It takes perseverance and the hide of a buffalo to write for the musical theatre these days, and everyone involved should be congratulated for having the stamina to get Bare staged in New York. But you have to wonder what other shows they might have created during this extended development period. As with so many shows, you have to wonder if the endless round of readings, workshops, and developmental productions really yields a work of superior quality. I understand that the old system -- taking a show out of town for four to six weeks, tearing it apart, and putting it back in front of paying audiences -- now seems almost barbaric, but it certainly produced some brilliant work. Only the creators of Bare can say if their 12 years of labor was really worth it. But sometimes, as Peter finds out, you have to cut your losses to grow; it's a message that the creators of Bare might take to heart.--David Barbour