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Review
The movie-to-musical trend seems to be the only major money-making machine that Broadway can see as the answer to their economic troubles – but that doesn’t mean they’re all bad!
I did hear word of Melbourne’s opening night of the popular ’80s-movie-turned-hit-cult-musical where audiences arrived with the fervour of an Olivia Rodrigo concert. But I thought it might have just been the hype of the show’s return after the West End’s semi-revival and the subsequent pro-shot of the production. Surely, Sydney audiences' more generally withheld approach to theatre etiquette wouldn’t have arrived with this level of electric energy…well f*** me gently with a chainsaw was I wrong! The fandom of Heathers arrived on opening night in full cosplay and with the level of enthusiasm suitable for an Olympic Park stadium. The cult-fangirl popularity of Heathers truly needs to be studied.
Heathers the Musical adapts the 1988 cult-classic film, starring a young Winona Ryder, to the stage with an almost cartoonish glee. There aren’t many dark comedy musicals that still manage to have a bit of bite, but Heathers somehow survives in a world where taboo subjects are becoming more cleansed for our palates. Teenage suicide, date rape, dead parents, and murder are all on the stage, and yet somehow Heathers maneuvers through them all to the reception of a screaming crowd.
It’s the classic high school as a battlefield scenario, as Veronica Sawyer must navigate the wilderness of surviving predatory jocks with one brain cell shared between them, homophobic and fatphobic slurs shouted in the hallways, and the big three plastics – I mean, Heathers – of Westerberg High’s ecosystem.
Quickly, Veronica takes on the age-old adage of ‘if you can’t beat them…’ and becomes the fourth member of the trio of Heathers who rule the school: Heather Chandler, Heather Duke, and Heather McNamara. How long can her tolerance for the three last though when she falls head over heels for the dark, brooding and handsome new kid at the school, J.D., who arrives in the form of the boy all our mothers warned us about?
Where bigger transfers have failed to engage audiences (RIP Waitress), Heathers knows exactly what it needs to be. It’s a small-scale musical with big-scale musical belters and talent. There are no Bassingthwaites or Perfects here, but unknown faces alongside experienced stage veterans. The cast move the set around, perfectly designed for touring, with David Shields’ set and costumes remaining dynamic yet simple, with Ben Cracknell’s lighting blasting with colour and (literal) explosive fervour to instill energy throughout.
As Veronica, Emma Caporaso is a bonafide star. She instills a quirky silliness into Veronica, instead of the brooding, angsty teen. Caporaso’s Veronica is gleeful in her disdain for the vitriol in the Heathers, the twitch of eye can see her swallowing her words, and the widest of smiles imbues Veronica with a determined grit to survive. When you want to cast your eyes to the other players on stage, you often find them wandering back to Caporaso to see what she’s doing – she’s magnetic in every aspect. Oh, and that voice? That would require a whole different review to rave about.
Opposite, Conor Beaumont’s J.D also avoids the alluring brooding of J.D’s past. This J.D feels like a teenager unsuited for his body. In the show’s later climactic moments, Beaumont’s fidgeting and shaking plays into his towering physicality. Alongside Caporaso, the pair have palpable chemistry and leave a defining image at the interval.
Calista Nelmes’ Heather Chandler is a certified biatch with that viral-worthy voice in ‘Candy Store’, while Mel O’Brien’s Martha Dunnstock is the show’s soft heart with a tear-jerking, rousing belt in the show’s later half. As clear crowd-favourites, Nic Van Lits and David Cuny’s Kurt Kelly and Ram Sweeney are undoubtedly hilarious in their athletic physicality of the jocks, working in perfect tandem in their stupidity.
The success of Heathers largely comes down to two things: Andy Fickman’s exuberantly playful direction, and the Australian production’s stunning cast. Fickman understands that in order to successfully delve into the show’s darker themes, the characters need to be played with a knowing wink, as he instills every element with candy store-coated colour and satire. Kevin Murphy and Laurence O’Keefe’s music, book, and lyrics adapt the darker elements of the film, keeping some iconic lines, and give the young cast some belting pop/rock ballads to feast on.
However, the lessons which we’re to take away from the often very dark comedy elements somewhat flicker and threaten to burn out as the show ramps up to its explosive ending. Some scenes have been adapted since the show’s birth, with female empowerment ballads added in songs like the new ‘I Say No’ to keep up with the times.
Still, songs like ‘You’re Welcome’ which flounce around the attempts at date rape leave an uncomfortable taste. Especially with the show performing on a stage where only a few months ago Prima Facie arrived with its declarations of destruction on the patriarchy. With the current news cycle raging outside the theatre, the realities of the show’s morals tend to waver.
The production has garnered a dedicated fandom, so I’d just follow the screaming crowds dressed in blue, yellow, red, or green to the Roslyn Packer Theatre if you’re unsure. It’s pitched perfectly so that parents can feel comfortable taking their teens and just avert each other’s gazes at the more raunchy elements. At least it makes for good car conversations on the way home.
Heathers’ shining stars are earned for the production’s dedication to new faces, with Broadway-level vocals, relentless optimism and energy, and the big, stupid smile you’ll have plastered on your face as the cast bows.
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