Frontmezzjunkies reports: From tear-stained friendship to teen vampires to Coward’s champagne wit, Broadway prepares for a wildly varied preview night
By Ross
Here we go again, that familiar thrill of a date on the Broadway calendar becoming an event all on its own. March 27, like the previously written about March 18, is shaping up to be one of those evenings that light up Broadway. When three vastly different productions all take their first Broadway breath in front of an audience, each asking for attention in completely different ways. It is the kind of evening that illustrates just how wide the spectrum of Broadway storytelling can be, and how impossible it is to define a single “Broadway experience.”
At the Majestic Theatre, Beaches The Musical arrives carrying decades of emotional expectation. Adapted from Iris Rainer Dart’s novel and its beloved film counterpart that famously starred Bette Midler, the story of Cee Cee and Bertie has long lived in our collective memory as a guaranteed tearjerker, anchored in iconic songs and a friendship that stretches across years, distance, and personal transformation.
This new musical iteration, led by Jessica Vosk and Kelli Barrett, arrives after a lengthy development journey, bringing with it the weight of audience expectation and the promise of reinvention. The inclusion of young performers Samantha Schwartz and Zeya Grace as the younger versions of its central duo suggests an early investment in emotional grounding, an attempt to root the spectacle in something recognizably human before the story inevitably reaches for something larger. Whether this version leans into nostalgia or reshapes it entirely remains one of the more intriguing questions heading into previews. And will it truly be the wind behind our wings.
A few blocks away at the Palace Theatre, an entirely different energy grabs hold of our throats and takes a bite, as The Lost Boys makes its motorcycle roaring Broadway debut. Adapted from the cult 1987 film that redefined the lure of the vampire, the production, as directed by Michael Arden, enters the season with a built-in audience and a tonal tightrope to walk. The original film’s blend of horror, sexuality, and adolescent rebellion created something that felt both pulpy and defining for a generation, a coming-of-age story dressed in fangs and leather. What could be more thrilling than that?
Yet, translating that language to the stage presents a fascinating challenge. The musical promises transformation, both literal and metaphorical, as it explores identity, belonging, and the seductive pull of danger. With music by The Rescues, there is potential for a sonic landscape that leans into mood as much as narrative, but the question lingers as to how this story will balance its camp origins with the demands of live theatre. Will it embrace its cult roots fully, or attempt to refine them into something more traditionally theatrical or modern?
Meanwhile, over at the Todd Haimes Theatre, Roundabout Theatre Company offers something that feels, at least on the surface, far more elevated and classic. Fallen Angels by Noël Coward returns to Broadway with Rose Byrne and Kelli O’Hara at its centre dining table, under the direction of Scott Ellis.
Coward’s work carries its own kind of danger, though it is wrapped in wit rather than spectacle. This is a comedy driven by rhythm, restraint, and the slow unraveling of social decorum, where every line lands with precision and every pause carries weight. I just saw the play for the first time at the Menier Chocolate Factory over the holidays, and found it to be “a complete delight.” It was the most recent sharpest example of just how precise and dangerous Coward’s language can be in the right hands. So, in a season filled with large gestures and high-concept adaptations, there is something particularly compelling about a return to this kind of language as the primary event. The pairing of Byrne and O’Hara suggests a dynamic built on contrast and control, a balancing act that could bring fresh texture to Coward’s famously effervescent dialogue. It should feel like the bubbles from a glass of champagne hitting our collective nose. Fingers crossed it will.
Taken all together, these three productions do not point toward a single trend or unified direction. Instead, they highlight a kind of theatrical sprawl. A deeply emotional musical rooted in friendship and memory. A stylized, genre-driven adaptation with cult appeal. And a revival of a nearly century-old comedy that still knows how to bite.
What makes March 27 so fascinating is not just the volume of openings, but the lack of overlap between them. These are not shows competing for the same audience in any simple way. They are invitations to entirely different experiences, unfolding simultaneously across the same city.
For those of us watching from the outside, it creates a kind of theatrical anticipation that is difficult to replicate. Three first impressions. Three opening nights waiting just beyond the horizon. Three chances for something to click, to falter, or to surprise in ways no press release can predict.
And on a night like this, the most exciting part may simply be not knowing which one will linger longest once the lights come down.
