Theatre in Review: Kid Victory (Vineyard Theatre)

	Brandon Flynn, Karen Ziemba. Photo: Carol Rosegg

In Kid Victory, Greg Pierce and John Kander have done a very daring thing, building a musical around a character who can't express himself in song. As it begins, Luke, who is 17, has recently been returned to his home in Kansas following a year-long disappearance; something terrible has happened, although the authors aren't yet ready to spill the details. In an outright act of audience provocation, Luke is first seen chained to a basement wall, the shock of this image not really allayed as the company sings a haunting hymn, "Lord, Carry Me Home." The number's homespun sentiments are broken by fragmented lyrics suggestive of the confusion in the boy's mind; however, they are not sung by Luke. Already, one might legitimately wonder, What sort of musical is this?

Now that he is home, Luke's mother, Eileen, is desperate for the return of normality, despite the fact that the boy is edgy and distracted, clearly not ready to fall back into the patterns that once defined his life. She has invited "the fellowship" over for a get-together -- the family is Baptist -- and she keeps reminding Luke that his friend Suze has called repeatedly. "Tonight, we celebrate you," she says. "You have no idea how many prayers were said for you. Thousands."

Such words are of little comfort to Luke, who isn't ready to face friends or return to school. Throughout Kid Victory, everyone will try to reach him, usually by way of musical numbers that are usually lovely, literate, and, in their expression of conventional feelings and attitudes, scarily off-key. All Luke can do is insist that he has changed, words that largely fall on deaf ears; he has returned to them, but they can't -- or won't -- see the transformation that has occurred. In most musicals, songs are used to advance the action; here, number after number dramatizes an emotional impasse. Eileen spins sentimental memories about the prayer circles dedicated to bringing him back ("A Single Tear"). Gail, a family friend from the church, brought in to provide her off-brand version of lay counseling, sends him into a tailspin ("You Are the Marble"). Suze, his sweet, pretty, and patient former girlfriend, gently asserts that she is ready to take things up where they left off ("I'd Rather Wait"). Luke finds a safe space of sorts working for Emily, a hard-drinking, hard-living kook who runs a garden supplies business, but it doesn't last, given Eileen's hostility to the arrangement and Emily's ongoing drama with her estranged daughter.

Kid Victory is filled with music, as each of the characters tries, and fails, to pull Luke back to his former self. The show moves fluidly back and forth in time, detailing how the boy, whose passion is boat-building, fell under the spell of Michael, an Internet predator, ultimately being kidnapped and held prisoner. That's not the whole story, however, and as Luke struggles to find his footing, and as his loved ones ignore the obvious distress signals, the play edges closer and closer to a revelation that will destroy the family's status quo forever.

Under Liesl Tommy's sure-handed direction, aided by Christopher Windom's choreography, the action moves across time and in and out of Luke's mind with the fluidity of a dream; she has also pulled together a first-rate cast of newcomers and old Broadway hands. Karen Ziemba's trademark upbeat personality is put to excellent use as Eileen, whose cheerful, bullying manner masks fears that she can't possibly articulate; Daniel Jenkins is finely understated as Joseph, Luke's dad, who knows that something is wrong but, until the end, can't find the words to address it. There are fine contributions from Dee Roscioli as the funny, friendly, self-absorbed Emily; Ann Arvia as the hapless Gail, with her wacky form of play therapy; Joel Blum as a detective who doesn't quite believe Luke's version of events; Laura Darrell, double-cast as the ever-hopeful Suze and Emily's spiky daughter; and Blake Zolfo as a boy Luke meets online.

The standouts, of course, are Jeffry Denman, unrecognizable as Michael, a former schoolteacher who seduces Luke with made-up stories about his collection of boats, a needy predator who exerts a spell -- a combination of sexuality and parental authority -- that proves nearly impossible to break. And Brandon Flynn's Luke, torn between living an unsupportable life or speaking thoroughly unacceptable truths, is at times almost painful to watch; this is an auspicious debut.

The production unfolds in Clint Ramos' basement setting, which effectively stands in for a number of locations and figures prominently in the coup de théâtre in the show's final minutes, as does David Weiner's lighting, which uses a variety of angles and color approaches to define different time frames and states of mind. Jacob A. Climer's costumes are effective in helping to delineate each character. Peter Hylenski's sound design is admirably clear and natural.

And Kid Victory sticks to its approach right until the end, when, at long last, Luke begins to say the previously unsayable. Don't expect an eleven o'clock number, however; if the boy has a song to sing, it is yet to come, outside the purview of this unusual and extraordinarily powerful musical. -- David Barbour