Theatre in Review: Soon (The Loft at St. Luke's)

	Ava Delaney, Oliver Richman. Photo: Valerie Terranova

Soon is a little musical that only wants to be loved. It always shows its company manners, chases away its darker implications, and works hard to ingratiate itself. As a result, it often seems slightly demented. The heroine, Charlie, is a recluse; the only men in her life are her roommate, Steven, a gay magpie, and Wolf Blitzer, whose daily reports on climate change and violence in the streets have left her all but paralyzed. As the entire company sings, "There's no point in decisions anymore/These days, how can we be sure/What should matter/When everything could shatter/Ever time we blink?"

But rather than pursue that bleak proposition, Nick Blaemire's book puts on a whimsical face. Charlie's privacy is invaded by Jonah, who, delivering the groceries, decides to hang around, hoping for a little romance. We later learn he is the heir to a supermarket fortune "who still has the populist urge to deliver the groceries." Charlie, who really should be more careful, lets Jonah in, telling him to hide his wares in Steven's bed. When Jonah demurs, she says, "It's okay, he deserves it. He hid my bra in the toaster this morning." Well, they sound like fun.

Charlie is a baking savant, whose innovations include a muffin-and-cake combo called a "make" and PB&J s'mores, either of which could be the new cronut if she would get off the couch and do something about it. Instead, she sings about having three months to live while Steven, who runs around the Hamptons with a boyfriend he loves to hate, delivers a number titled "Avoid the Apocalypse," asserting, "Hoping is coping/And moping around is just giving/Not filling your cup." With an argument like that, it's little wonder it falls on deaf ears.

There's plenty more in this vein, much of it about Herschel, the goldfish Charlie keeps in a beer stein until Jonah produces a proper bowl. Herschel, you should know, is Jewish -- and no, I'm not going to explain that -- thus cueing the number "Bar Mitzvah for the First Jewish Fish," which tries to get away with rhyming "mitzvah" with "chutzpah." The latter is a quality that Soon has in spades.

Amid such hijinks comes that news that Charlie's worries aren't just about imminent melting ice caps. Indeed, she has big-time mental and physical problems, few of which, as presented, are credible. I will note that Ava Delaney, who plays her, looks awfully chipper for someone apparently on her last legs.

Whatever one thinks of Soon, Delaney is a striking presence, able to play the most nonsensical dialogue with conviction; I look forward to seeing her again, under different circumstances. The same is true of Oliver Richman, who, as Jonah, reminds one of the young Austin Pendleton. As Steven, Mike Millan delivers a standard wacky gay friend character with gusto, earning a couple of laughs. Mylinda Hull, always a pro, does what she can with Adrienne, Charlie's man-crazy, martini-swilling mother, a role that makes little sense. (Among other things, if what we learn about Charlie is true, Adrienne should be a basket case. But that's Soon for you.)

At least Will Blum's direction treats these often-maudlin doings with a reasonably light touch. Scenic designer Sean Frank, given a space not much larger than a suburban living room, furnishes it pleasantly. (Love the record collection on the wall, including the original cast album of The Pajama Game plus discs by Fleetwood Mac and Bette Midler. Somebody, either Charlie or Steven, has very good taste). Frank collaborates with lighting designer Paige Seber to sequester theatrical units and color-changing bulbs in various unexpected places. It makes quite a contrast with Seber's amusingly over-the-top work on Titanique and reveals her as infinitely resourceful. Jordana Abrenica's sound design delivers TV broadcasts and occasional discreet vocal amplification with equal skill. Gina Ruiz's costumes are extremely casual, yet interestingly detailed.

If anything, Soon demonstrates the danger of musicals having single authors; Blaemire's book is seriously underimagined -- how does Charlie, who doesn't work, survive, and what does Jonah do when he isn't being a would-be boyfriend? -- and manipulative. His songs, including "Bohemia Paradiso" (Adrienne's ode to the East Village of yore), "Sweet and Golden Brown" (about what baking can do, as they say in Waitress), and the endless reprises of something titled "When the World Ends," aren't good enough, aside from a couple of nice jazzy melodies. (Under Andy Collopy's musical direction, the small ensemble plays beautifully.) "I don't think you get how complicated it is to crossbreed desserts," Charlie insists. Indeed, this confection got pulled out of the oven before it was ready to be seen. --David Barbour