ALADDIN by Alan Menken, Howard Ashman, Tim Rice and Chad Beguelin (Disney Theatrical Productions/Mirvish). At the Ed Mirvish Theatre (244 Victoria). To January 5. $35-$130. 416-872-1212, mirvish.com. See listing. Rating: NN
When James Monroe Iglehart’s genial, oversized Genie appears an hour into Aladdin, he delivers a number called A Friend Like Me, which requires him to sing (great pipes), dance (how does he do it?), impersonate Oprah, mimic a game show host, belt out a medley of Disney power ballads and perform a cartwheel – all while a gold-clad chorus kicks and fireworks sparkle.
I’d call it a show-stopper, but that would imply there was a show to stop, not the rambling, uninvolving jumble of gags and songs we’ve seen up to that point.
The Broadway-bound adaptation of the 1992 Disney movie feels more awkward, cartoonish and soon-to-be-dated than previous hits like Beauty And The Beast and The Lion King. The tale of the resourceful street urchin (Adam Jacobs) who falls for a disguised Princess Jasmine (Courtney Reed), whose father the Sultan (Clifton Davis) wants her to marry a prince, has been needlessly padded.
Now Aladdin has a trio of musician buddies who act as narrators and between-scene jokesters as sets are changed behind the curtain. This would be fine if their dialogue – Chad Beguelin is responsible for the dreadful book – had any personality. But it’s an odd combination of Catskills groaners and contemporary tweenspeak. Yes, there’s an OMG and BFF reference.
In fact, the whole show seems slapped together even quicker than the annual Ross Petty pantos just down the street. The villain, Jafar (Jonathan Freeman, who voiced the movie), has a short, squat minion, Iago (Don Darryl Rivera), and their relationship seems like a bitchy (and dated) gay stereotype. Aladdin and Jasmine are blandly attractive yet lack chemistry (Reed is especially dull). Jasmine’s opening number, about princesses getting what they want, turns you against her and Reed screeches through the show’s best-known tune, A Whole New World, sending the show’s biggest special effect – a magic carpet ride – crashing down to earth.
And the new songs feel generic, all except for the lively, action-packed High Adventure, which turns out to have been cut from the film. (Howard Ashman and Alan Menken wrote the original.)
The structure is so appalling and the pacing so glacial that the creators resort several times to splitting the stage in half to use two scenes to further the plot. One moment involving three of Jasmine’s friends (with shapes roughly resembling those of the three narrators) suggests a subplot was cut for time.
As it is the show doesn’t really start until the Genie’s appearance. In order to succeed on Broadway, the creators and director Casey Nicholaw need to get to the blue guy quicker.
It makes sense for economic reasons, too. They’ve clearly sunk most of their design budget into his scenes – and surely depleted the city’s supply of gold paint – so why not show them off earlier?
glenns@nowtoronto.com | @glennsumi
