Theatre in Review: Redwood (Nederlander Theatre)Broadway gets its Cinerama moment with Redwood, thanks to its remarkably immersive scenic and video design. Jason Ardizzone-West wraps the action in a forest of screens that extends beyond one's angle of vision, setting the stage for imagery that engulfs the audience. In the early sequences, Hana S. Kim fills this vast canvas with rapid, almost subliminal, flashes of city skylines, nighttime highways, and motel signs, detailing the desperate journey of Jesse, the musical's protagonist. (Jesse, a New York gallerist played by Idina Menzel, is on the lam from her career, her marriage, and anything else that reminds her of the past.) When she arrives in the redwood forest of Humboldt County, California, the reveal is stunning-a wraparound, almost Wagnerian vista of remarkable depth and color. Later, when Jesse takes up tree-climbing, emerging above the treetops, the view is exhilarating, an endless sky-high meadow of greenery. Redwood is dedicated to the almost magical properties of nature, and Ardizzone-West and Kim provide the best possible evidence for that argument. Ardizzone-West and Kim are aided by sound designer Jonathan Deans, who perfectly balances dialogue, lyrics, music, and effects, distributed throughout the theatre to reinforce the production's you-are-there quality. The effects, including traffic, rumbling earth, and crackling flames, are punchy: the vocal reinforcement is unforced; and every musical line in the orchestrations and arrangements of Kate Diaz's score is given its due. Thanks to these contributions, a trip to Redwood constitutes a mini-vacation, a borderline-otherworldly experience in a part of a world many in the audience have never experienced firsthand. Too bad the monumental wilderness conjured by the designers overwhelms the twig of a story about an unhappy woman fleeing her demons. Featuring a book by Tina Landau, based on a conception by her and Menzel, and with additional contributions from Menzel, Redwood is a vehicle tailored so closely to its star's talents that it is nearly impossible to imagine anyone else in the role. It's striking that, thirty years after she enjoyed her breakthrough moment in this theatre, as Joanne, Rent's self-aggrandizing performance artist, Menzel is once again playing a neurotic, wisecracking, Jewish lesbian from Long Island, in a troubled relationship with a put-upon Black woman. Redwood isn't a revival but in a very real sense, the role of Jesse is exactly that. Driving Jesse into this dense, inaccessible patch of wilderness is unexpressed grief over the death of her twentysomething son Spencer. Fair enough, but we learn so little about the young man, his circumstances, and his relationship with his mothers, that Jesse's grief comes across as notional, a blank waiting to be filled. Jesse doesn't want to talk about her problems and, for too long, neither does Tina Landau's book. Instead, the action is focused on Jesse forging relationships (friendly) with Finn, a "canopy botanist," and (spiky) with Becca, Finn's all-business associate, who has no time for interlopers. For no good reason, they allow her to move in and hang out in a restricted forest area -- and, without proper training, to climb with them, acting as a kind of ad hoc assistant. In one notably odd scene, we see Jesse climbing while barefoot. I bet that's not in the rulebook. Meanwhile, the authors dispense life lessons grounded in banalities about the beauties of nature and the importance of self-forgiveness. Jesse sings, "I've never had the chance/To dance in rain before/And I've never had the chance/To breathe an air so pure." (Well, she is from New York.) An entire number is dedicated to the fact that from tiny seeds, giant redwoods grow. Metaphors abound: Finn, talking about heartwood, a tree's dead center, opines, that it "doesn't carry water or nutrients anymore but it's the strongest part of the tree." (You can bet that thought will come back to haunt everybody.) Jesse, having a panic attack while spending the night on a platform high above the ground, mutters, "What am I trying to prove?...This Becca girl thinks you're a fraud, crazy middle-aged lady having a midlife crisis. Why can't I just get bangs?" Well, that would be simpler than running around in the wild, getting what the show calls "big tree religion." Late in the evening, when some hard facts about Spencer's death are brought to light Redwood becomes unexpectedly moving, especially when Menzel, utilizing her inimitable belt, bares her unappeasable pain in a powerful ballad, "No Repair." Zachary Noah Piser, appearing as the shade of Spencer, nails the equally heartfelt "Still," in which he makes it blazingly clear that it is time for Jesse to return to life. But the authors leave these revelations so late that, for too much of Redwood's running time, it's easy to conclude Jesse is little more than an airheaded spiritual tourist. Even this wounding climax is impaired by a sequence (admittedly impressively staged and designed) in which Jesse, in her tiny aerie, is hemmed by a raging wildfire -- a natural disaster that seems to exist so she can have an emotional breakthrough. The songs, lyrics by Diaz and Landau. are full of crunchy, good-for-you maxims. Jesse, hanging around in the air, sings, "Here I am, I'm up a mile high/But somehow I'm safer in the sky/'Cause it feels so right/I think I'll kiss the world goodbye." Finn adds, "Hear the secrets in their silence/The ancient wisdom of the giants/The tree's most important lesson/Is that like the roots, we need/Connection." Diaz's melodies suffer from a certain sameness, not least because of their penchant for slipping into full anthem mode as quickly as possible. Menzel delivers all night long, providing the stirring vocals that her fans crave, and Piser, a former Evan Hansen, is clearly a rising star; so, too, is Khaila Wilcoxon as Becca, who makes something of her tough-talking softie role while landing solid ovations for each of her solo numbers. That sterling professional, Michael Park, is appealing as Finn, who has parenting problems of his own. De'Adre Aziza is always good to have around but the role of Mel, Jesse's long-suffering spouse, is sketchy and saddled with below-par songs. Also on the design side, Scott Zielinski's lighting carves out the actors with unfailing precision. Toni-Leslie James' costumes are spot-on, especially the amusingly deluxe climbing outfit that Jesse obtains in an attempt at impressing Becca and Finn. Landau's direction makes expert use of the production's stunning design elements, and she seamlessly incorporates into the action a mid-air sequence choreographed by Melecio Estrella for BANDALOOP. LSA will want to check out the scenic, video, and sound elements that are unlike anything Broadway has seen before. But Redwood frequently trips over its earnestness, its relentless belief in self-healing. Many important issues are percolating under the play's surface, including climate change, drug abuse, and the exploitation of natural resources; somehow, Jesse manages to make them all about her. --Davd Barbour 
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