Broadway’s “Chess” Blows the Roof Off Broadway – front mezz junkies, Theater News

The Broadway Theatre Review: Chess

By Ross

It’s East meets West, back in the day when those words held different meanings than today, but the game is still being played loud and true in Broadway’s explosively good revival of Chess at the Imperial Theatre. The show makes absolutely no apologies for what it is: a glorious, high-octane vocal showdown delivered like it is merely a musical. Briskly and intuitively directed by Michael Mayer (Broadway’s Swept Away), it plays less like a traditionally staged book musical and more like a semi-staged concert event, a choice similar to the one Mayer made when he directed the version I saw at the Kennedy Center starring  Raúl Esparza, Ramin Karimloo, Ruthie Ann Miles, and Karen Olivo. That framing suited the material perfectly back then, and continues to serve it superbly on Broadway. With the show’s roots as a concept album, Chess has always been more about the music, with the narrative coming in at a far-off second, and here, the evening leans unapologetically into that truth. The result is a Cold War rock opera that feels like an American Idol sing-off mashed up inside a geopolitical standoff, fully electrifying by its sheer vocal power and dynamic talent.

That power shoots forward like a missile, led by the phenomenally gifted cast that includes Aaron Tveit (Broadway’s Sweeney Todd), Lea Michele (Broadway’s Funny Girl), Nicholas Christopher (Off-Broadway’s Little Shop of Horrors), and Hannah Cruz (Broadway’s Suffs), who spend much of the evening passing an invisible rockstar crown back and forth as they claim the central spotlight song by song. Tveit’s Freddie Trumper is all delicious swagger and volatility, but he wisely lets the character’s vulnerability flicker just underneath the man’s surface arrogance. While “One Night in Bangkok” may not be the score’s subtlest offering (nor one of my favourites), Tveit delivers it with confidence and some undeniable heat, but it’s his Act II showstopper, “Pity the Child,” that is the prize-winning full-throated reclamation of Freddie’s inner struggle.

The hunky Nicholas Christopher, however, sets an almost unfair standard early on with his “Where I Want to Be,” a performance so commanding and stormy that it seems impossible to top, that is, until he does it again with the shattering Act One closer, “Anthem.” His Anatoly is emotionally precise, balancing a clever stoicism with a deep interior ache that resonates, especially inside his “You and I” duets with Michele that land with aching clarity.

The superbly gifted Michele, as Florence Vassy, occupies the center of the board again and again, making every moment count with a force that is impossible to deny. Her “Nobody’s Side” and “Heaven Help My Heart” are sung with both steel and vulnerability, delivered with that unmistakable power that feels calibrated rather than merely unleashed. When Hannah Cruz enters as Svetlana in Act II, the balance shifts once more. Cruz initially lulls us with restraint in “He Is a Man, He Is a Child,” only to slowly reveal a voice of equal force and authority. That power rises up again in a devastating “I Know Him So Well” alongside Michele, and we hardly know which way to look. This constant redistribution of vocal dominance inside this political and strategic game becomes the evening’s most glorious gift: Chess as competition, not just in plot, but in performance. Supporting players shine as well, particularly Bryce Pinkham (Broadway’s Holiday Inn), whose expanded Arbiter/Narrator injects numerous well-placed jabs of humour and self-awareness into the match, slicing the show’s own melodrama with sharp timing and irresistible charisma.

The revised book by Danny Strong (Berkeley Rep’s Galileo) is deliciously funny and timely, but remains somewhat clunky. The narrative finally knows what game it’s playing, even if it insists on explaining every move twice. Luckily, the production wisely refuses to let the narrative weigh down or slow its musical momentum. Instead, the jabs and heightened theatricality act as counterbalances to the score’s emotional intensity, giving us a chance to catch our own breath in between songs.

The design by David Rockwell (Roundabout’s She Loves Me) reinforces the concert-like atmosphere with sleek scenic choices and layered devices that frame, rather than dominate, the action. Kevin Adams’s muscular lighting (especially the hovering square that signals the chess matches) and Peter Nigrini’s striking video projections combine to create a vivid, propulsive visual world, most memorably in the swirling snowstorm that erupts behind Nicholas Christopher’s first song. None of it gets in the way of the main event.

The choreography by Lorin Latarro (Broadway’s Tommy) is equally sharp and kinetic, delivered by an ensemble dressed to perfection in Tom Broecker’s smart, black-and-white costumes, performers as formidable as the leads standing before us. And Brian Usifer’s music supervision ensures the score and the game land with maximum impact.

Chess succeeds beyond expectations, not by fixing the show’s long-debated book flaws, but by embracing what has always made it epic and loved. All that sensational music, performed by artists who know exactly how to sell it, is what we have gathered together for. The plot may occasionally wobble, but the vocals never do. Not in the slightest. And what lingers beyond the stage is not all that old geopolitical intrigue, but the detonating thrill of watching these elite and superb performers dive into ABBA’s rock-infused score, and win. Song after song. In this Chess, the checkmate comes by vocal firepower, and not just once.