Theatre in Review: The Outsiders (Bernard B. Jacobs Theatre)

	Sky Lakota-Lynch, Joshua Boone. Photo: Matthew Murphy

It's only when The Outsiders gets ready to rumble that the new musical at the Jacobs starts to show a real pulse. In its climax, the rival gangs Greasers and Socs square off for control of a public park. (In case you're one of the three people alive who haven't read S. E. Hinton's middle school classic, we're in Tulsa, Oklahoma, in 1967. The Greasers are outcasts from troubled families on the poor side of town; the Socs are entitled, sadistic preppies, whose idea of a fun night out involves beating up any Greaser who strays into their territory.) The fracas that ensues is brilliantly choreographed by Rick Kuperman and Jeff Kuperman as a series of short blackouts, underscored with eerie static effects by sound designer Cody Spencer. Each punch is emphasized by power-packed hits from the percussion department. Lighting designer Brian MacDevitt uses an upstage vertical bar light to erase each tableau with a sizzling blinder clue. It's an imaginative, highly theatrical piece of staging that lands with the force of an upper-cut to the chin.

It's telling that the sequence is without music, however. To its credit, The Outsiders is a production with a remarkable unanimity of vision; it is also well-acted and beautifully sung. But nobody involved has found a consistent way of converting Hinton's book -- a fast, punchy tale that moves with the speed and force of a classic B picture -- into compelling musical theatre. It's no small accomplishment to dull down a story that features a gang fight, an act of manslaughter, a death-defying leap onto a moving train, a daring rescue from a burning barn, and a heartbreaking deathbed reckoning, but the show's creators have done it, in spades. It's a melodrama that refuses to dirty its hands.

The book, by Adam Rapp and Justin Levine, sticks closely to Hinton's plot, which centers on fourteen-year-old Ponyboy, a budding writer who lives with his brothers Sodapop and Darrel. Their parents are dead and Darrel works multiple jobs to keep food on the table, all the while hectoring Ponyboy to stay out of trouble. (Sodapop is a genial goofball whose main pursuits are watching cartoons and hanging out with the guys.) But keeping one's nose clean in this environment is a tall order: Simply going downtown to see a movie can earn a Greaser a beating from the Socs. The real trouble sets in when Ponyboy dallies, innocently, with Cherry Valance, girlfriend to Bob, the most vicious of the Socs. Bob and his friends set upon Ponyboy, trying to drown him, but Ponyboy's friend Johnny intervenes, killing Bob.

Bob's death has plenty of repercussions, all of which are felt in the rather more interesting second act. Before that, however, the audience faces a lengthy, languid display of exposition, in which the characters repeatedly sing the blues about their lots in life. The opener, "Tulsa '67," is a surprisingly half-hearted expression of simmering violence, leaving one to wonder if the creators were worried about too closely imitating West Side Story. The gang manifesto "Grease Got a Hold," suffers from wordy lyrics and banal rhymes ("G is for getting the girls ev'ry time cuz you got irresistible charm/R is for reeling 'em in and then keeping the prettiest one on your arm") "Runs in the Family" and "Great Expectations" exhaustively establish Darrel and Ponyboy's feelings of alienation. To be sure, there are some attractive items, including "I Could Talk to You All Night," a duet for Ponyboy and Cherry, and "Little Brother," in which the stern, demanding Darrel, worried sick, at last bares his frustrated love for Ponyboy. Much of the time, however, the score is content to strike the same melancholy notes; a certain sameness sets in, which, combined with the stripped-back, rusted-out production design by AMP featuring Tatiana Kahvegian -- the stage resembles an abandoned warehouse -- results in a colorless, enervated atmosphere.

Indeed, the score by Jonathan Clay and Zach Chance (otherwise known as Jamestown Revival) in collaboration with Levine, sticks to a narrow country-ballad style, perhaps trying to give the musical a timeless appeal. Once again, however, talented pop songwriters, taking a flyer on Broadway, haven't learned how to write for specific characters. Everybody expresses him or herself in the same musical voice, an approach that becomes monotonous. (You would never know that 1967 was an explosive year in American music marked by a cornucopia of styles.) The best and most incisive moments are found in the book scenes; the songs often feel oddly irrelevant to the action.

Danya Taymor's direction has its moments, including the train-jumping sequence, staged using wooden planks and tires, and the impressive fire that turns Ponyboy and Johnny into accidental heroes. (I am baffled at the need for a downpour during the big rumble; between this show and The Notebook next door, the Shubert Organization's water bills must be going way up.) Among the cast, Brody Grant is solid as tough, yet sensitive, Ponyboy, carefully guarding his love of words; Sky Lakota-Lynch is touching as Johnny, whose home life is a madhouse of alcohol and abuse; and Emma Pittman strikes an authentic note of regret as Cherry, who is quietly disgusted by the false values of her upbringing. The standout is Joshua Boone as Dallas, the outlier Greaser, a New York refugee with a rap sheet who, with the best of intentions, lures Ponyboy and Johnny into real trouble with the law.

In addition to the design contributions already mentioned, Sarafina Bush's costumes make it blazingly clear who belongs to which gang. Hana S. Kim provides some delicately rendered projections, most notably footage from Cool Hand Luke, starring Paul Newman, Ponyboy's cinematic hero.

The show becomes touching near the end but it's a long trip for a moderate payoff. A lot of people have worked hard to theatricalize a book that is beloved by several generations but The Outsiders has been assembled with such seriousness of purposes that it forgets to be entertaining. Many musicals overwhelm their source material with flash and pizzazz; this one drains its story of energy and tension. One wonders what Rapp, Levine, and their colleagues saw in Hinton's novel. --David Barbour