Review: ‘Prom’ season is over the top at the Ahmanson Theatre

It’s apparently prom season at the L.A. Music Center. People are strolling in their satiny best to the Ahmanson Theatre, a few having draped themselves with banners declaring themselves king or queen of the night.

This cosplay is occasioned by the L.A. premiere of “The Prom,” the 2018 Broadway musical that gave rise to the 2020 film starring Meryl Streep and James Corden. The show feels like it’s been around for ages, but that’s probably because the movie is still streaming on Netflix.

Wednesday’s opening night audience for the national tour production seemed to have its fair share of repeat viewers. “The Prom” hasn’t developed a full-blown cult like “The Rocky Horror Picture Show.” But it has a devoted following that appreciates the musical’s positive LGBTQ+ message.

When I first saw the show in New York, I was incapacitated with laughter during the first 30 minutes. The musical’s setup is camp heaven. Two Broadway egomaniacs, Dee Dee Allen and Barry Glickman, are awaiting the reviews of their new musical “Eleanor! — The Eleanor Roosevelt Musical.”

All seems to be well as bubbly is poured and congratulations extended for a rave from a New Jersey newspaper. But then the New York Times buries Dee Dee and Barry alive. Other reviews leave little doubt that opening night will also be closing night.

“What didn’t they like?” Barry wonders cluelessly. “Was it the hip-hop?” Sheldon, the show’s publicist, explains that it’s not the show; it’s the stars. “You’re not likable. Narcissists,” he explains as though speaking to a pair of aging toddlers, aren’t usually fan favorites.

The party quickly becomes a funeral. Two out-of-work actors, Trent Oliver, who is perpetually reminding everyone that he’s a graduate of Juilliard, and Angie, a leggy chorus girl who just quit her job in “Chicago” after 20 years of not being asked to play Roxy, offer their commiseration. Together this quartet hatches a rescue plan to transform Dee Dee and Barry from selfish has-beens to celebrity activists.

An article on Twitter about a young lesbian named Emma in Edgewater, Ind., whose high school prom was canceled to prevent her from attending with her girlfriend, hands them a surefire social media cause. The group hops on a bus headed to the Midwest with a non-equity cast of “Godspell.” Dee Dee threatens to raise “holy hell.” Barry, who gets Sheldon to tag along to ensure sufficient publicity, vows, “We’re gonna help that little lesbian whether she likes it or not.”

The book by Bob Martin (a co-creator of “The Drowsy Chaperone”) and Chad Beguelin (whose Tony-nominated credits include “Aladdin” and “The Wedding Singer”) reaches a perilous over-the-top altitude. On Broadway, the show found the perfect leads in Beth Leavel and Brooks Ashmanskas to bring the Broadway excesses of Dee Dee and Barry to non-hackneyed life. There was astute satire in their portrayal of the hypocritical diva antics of “liberal democrats from Broadway.” They were playing types, to be sure, but with the granularity of backstage insight and prickly professional experience.

Kaden Kearney, left, and Kalyn West in the national tour of “The Prom.”

(Deen van Meer)

The film lacked the same theatrical credibility. Streep and Corden wallowed in Broadway cliches, sometimes deliciously, every now and again riotously, but rarely if ever with truthful originality. The movie couldn’t duplicate the giddy liftoff of the original Broadway company. But the film was perhaps more effective in dealing with the sentimental turn in the story. The plight of a lesbian teen, estranged from her parents and alienated at her school, emotionally registers in the sympathy of the starry cast.

At the Ahmanson, the production, directed and choreographed by Casey Nicholaw, goes big and broad. Opportunities for subtlety, though few and far between, are mown down with theatrical oomph. The show’s marketing underscores the “live” aspect of this encounter with “The Prom” — and liveliness seems to be the company’s main goal.

Acting, design and choreography conspire to keep us in high spirits, but the overall result is mixed. This is a two-act musical that could afford to lose at least 20 minutes of padding. Neither my companion nor I was surprised to see the audience thin out around us after intermission.

The book, which gets convoluted, isn’t the sole problem. The score, by Matthew Sklar (music) and Beguelin (lyrics), plunks down numbers that, in the second act especially, stall momentum. Sklar and Beguelin are generous to a fault with the main characters, letting them sing about private concerns while the plot impatiently taps its watch.

Courtney Balan plays Dee Dee in a brassy comic mode that evokes at times “Saturday Night Live” alum Cheri Oteri. Such an exaggerated approach is perhaps better suited to skits, but Balan compensates with indefatigable musical showmanship. Patrick Wetzel’s Barry shies away from dopey, stereotypical flamboyance, which is no easy task when playing a character who describes himself as “gay as a bucket of wigs.”

Bud Weber’s Trent and Emily Borromeo’s Angie seem content to kick up their heels as Broadway cartoons. Shavey Brown delivers Sheldon’s PR quips with sufficient punch. As Mr. Hawkins, the empathetic and morally upright principal at Emma’s school (who turns out to be a hardcore fan of Dee Dee’s), Sinclair Mitchell imparts a genuine sweetness. Ashanti J’Aria plays Mrs. Greene, the PTA villain, as a mom on a misguided mission to protect her daughter.

This incarnation of “The Prom” is memorable mostly for the beautifully balanced performance of UC Irvine MFA acting grad Kaden Kearney as Emma. Giving equal due to the painful reality of her character and to the comedy exploding all around her, she is remarkably tender in her scenes with Kalyn West, who reprises her assured and deeply felt Broadway performance as Alyssa, Emma’s not-yet-out girlfriend.

Kearney soars most spectacularly when in musical flight. Whether letting loose with the cast in exuberant ensemble numbers or confiding her truth to her laptop in “Unruly Heart,” her virtuosity consolidates the audience’s love and concern for her character.

The delights of the “The Prom” have faded for me over time. But the musical’s compassionate message never fails to elicit from my keyboard a string of heart emojis.