I am one of those annoying New Yorkers. You know the type. They know about a show forever -- or at least the duration of its run -- and they can't be bothered to actually go see something until the eleventh hour. I'm ordinarily not that guy. But for some reason with The Shaggs: Philosphy of Life, I became that guy. And so it is with great sadness that I write today, on the show's closing night, to let you know that if you"re one of the millions who missed this show, you missed a masterpiece. And I'm left wondering why. Why wasn't this show a hit?
Is the answer as simple as the fact that it's a very dark musical? I don't think so. If that were sufficient explanation, then Next to Normal would not be a big Broadway hit. I'm afraid the answer may run deeper.
The Shaggs is a very funny and entertaining and brutal indictment of our cultural obsession with fame as an answer to all our prayers. The show's protagonist, Austin Wiggin (played beautifully by the uber-talented Peter Friedman) is obsessed with making his three daughters into a pop sensation. There's only one problem. They have no talent.
Shows about talentless fools have been done before to far less effect. I'm thinking of Souvenir, a show that shows off the horrid singing of its protagonist. I found Souvenir difficult to sit through. Not so with The Shaggs. This is due, in large part, to a brilliant conceit on the part of Gunnar Madsen and Joy Gregory, who wrote music & lyrics, respectively. We spend very little stage time listening to The Shaggs as they actually sounded. Instead, we get to hear them as they sounded to themselves and/or to their smitten dad. It's a bold device and in the end, the result is that we are swept up in his fever dream, we can't help but hope and wish alongside him that maybe just maybe these three girls could hit it big.
If you happen to be in NYC tonight and you're free, catch the last performance. And if you happen to run a small regional theatre, consider this show. It's economical -- cast of 8 plus 4 musicians in the pit. Simple set. The set in this production, by the way, is brilliant. Kudos to Mimi Lien. And ditto the choreography by Ken Roht.
It does make me sad, though, to imagine that people are too afraid of the bitter pill of this show to make it a hit. It's a bitter pill, yes. But the show is infused with many examples of exactly the kind of soaring simple effervescent pop music that Mr. Wiggin was trying to will his daughters to make. They didn't succeed. But this show transcends that to paint a deep and arresting portrait of American fame worship. Go, go, go see this show before it's too late!
