Reviews for the Burnt Part Boys
Mining Families Must Pick Up Life’s Pieces in a
Disaster’s Tuneful Aftermath
From left, Andrew Durand, Charlie Brady, Al Calderon and Noah Galvin in “The Burnt Part Boys,” a musical about West Virginia coal country, set in 1962.
'By CHARLES ISHERWOOD'
'May 26, 2010'
Titles are not everything, but they are not nothing, either. “A Streetcar Named Desire” would be a great play even if Tennessee Williams had stuck with the original handle, but “The Poker Night” doesn’t really sing, does it?
Neither does “The Burnt Part Boys,” the clunky downer of a name affixed to the new musical that opened on Tuesday night at Playwrights Horizons in a co-production with the Vineyard Theater. This small flaw is not, unfortunately, the only one made by the creators of this warm-spirited and family-friendly but dramatically static new show about the surviving sons of a coal miner killed in a West Virginia mining accident.
The 14-year-old Pete (Al Calderon) and his 18-year-old brother, Jake (Charlie Brady), have essentially been raising themselves since the death of their father in the accident 10 years before. Their mother retreated into silence and grief. Jake and his pal Chet (Andrew Durand), who also lost his father, have joined the mining crews that offer more or less the only serious opportunity for advancement in their town.
This doesn’t particularly rile young Pete until he hears on the radio that the mining company is going to reopen the mine where the boys’ father and several other men died in a collapse, followed by a fire. (Ever since the accident, this area of the mountain has been referred to as “the burnt part.”) Jake has to admit that he’s been given a promotion and will be going down the same mine where his father’s remains still lie.
Pete, who is obsessed with the John Wayne movie “The Alamo” (the show is set in 1962), recruits his best pal, Dusty (Noah Galvin), to set forth on a bold mission to blow up the mine for good. He steals a stack of dynamite from Jake’s gear, and they head up the mountain. When Jake discovers the theft, he and Chet take off in hot pursuit.
Sara Krulwich/The New York Times
From left, Molly Ranson, Noah Galvin and Al Calderon in “The Burnt Part Boys.”
A scene from “The Burnt Part Boys.
The book, by Mariana Elder, efficiently establishes all this within the show’s opening half-hour. But once the boys all set off on their quests, nothing much happens until a late-coming, somewhat implausibly dramatic climax. For much of the show’s running time — a little over 90 minutes, with no intermission — we simply watch Pete and Dusty hike around the stage, followed by the older boys, all trading songs of youthful camaraderie.
Some diversions are provided by Pete’s fantasy interactions with characters from “The Alamo” — Sam Houston, Davy Crockett and Jim Bowie — and the younger boys’ acquisition of a tomboy sidekick, Frances (Molly Ranson), but the musical often seems to be going in circles or standing in place.
The director, Joe Calarco, pushes the action beyond the frame of the stage in what is clearly an attempt to inject some theatrical dynamics, but having the characters scamper up the aisles now and then doesn’t do much to liven things up.
The country- and bluegrass-flavored songs, with music by Chris Miller and lyrics by Nathan Tysen, make for pleasant listening. There are rousing anthems to the dangerous excitements of working the mines, sung by Jake and Chet and a chorus of ghostly miners. There are rousing anthems to the solitary call of heroism, from little Pete:
You stand and fight
For right or wrong
Every man has his chance to choose
You live a life
Deservin’ of song.
But after a while the score settles into a repetitive groove that matches the linear thrust of the story; although each song is effective on its own terms, they begin to sound interchangeable.
The performances are vivid and appealing. The youngsters — Mr. Calderon as the spunky Pete, and Mr. Galvin as the goofy Dusty — carry much of the freight with impressive professionalism and authority. They are both terrific, although the steady stream of smarty-pants wisecracks from Dusty eventually began to rattle my nerves. (It’s as if Dusty had recruited a pro from Milton Berle’s television show to write his repartee.)
Mr. Brady traces with conviction the doubts that have begun to haunt Jake about the life he has chosen. Mr. Durand’s amiable Chet is contrastingly carefree. Michael Park makes an effective trio of cartoonish movie heroes and also plays the ghost of the boys’ father.
With its young, plucky hero and its portrait of a pair of fatherless boys looking out for each other, “The Burnt Part Boys” makes a fine show for family viewing, the rare musical that lots of young boys might even cotton to. At times the joshing comic scenes and the spirit of youthful high jinks recall the exploits of Mark Twain’s beloved roughhousers, Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn.
That gives me an idea for juicing up the leaden title. Why not call it “The Adventures of the Burnt Part Boys”? It’s a slight improvement, at least.
THE BURNT PART BOYS
Book by Mariana Elder;
WITH: Charlie Brady (Jake Twitchell), Al Calderon
(Pete Twitchell), Andrew Durand (Chet Taylor), Steve
French (Miner Tinns), Noah Galvin (Dusty Rivers),
Michael
Multimedia
Trailer: 'Burnt Part Boys'
TheaterMania
The Burnt Part Boys
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| Andrew Durand,
Charlie Brady, Al Calderon, Noah Galvin, and Molly Ranson in The Burnt Part Boys (© Joan Marcus) |
Set in West Virginia in 1962, the show centers on a group of young people whose fathers died in a coal mining accident 10 years prior to the start of the action. Given recent headlines from the region about similar events and loss of life, one would naturally assume that the musical would resonate intensely today -- perhaps even more so than bookwriter Mariana Elder, lyricist Nathan Tysen and composer Chris Miller might have intended or imagined. In the end, that's simply not the case.
At the center of the piece is 14-year-old Pete (a winsome, but periodically strained, Al Calderon), a plucky kid whose worldview has been shaped not by his long-dead father, but rather by the heroes he's seen at the movies, particularly his favorite, The Alamo. When he learns that the mine in which his father died (and where the man's remains still lie) is about to be reopened, Pete takes it upon himself to ensure that no one will be put in danger there again by taking dynamite from a lockbox his miner brother Jake (imbued with brooding intensity and bitterness by Charlie Brady) has brought home.
Pete sets off on the mission, accompanied by his nerdy best friend Dusty (played with sure-handed aplomb by Noah Galvin), the only one of the young characters who's been lucky enough to grow up with a father, but soon enough, Jake and his dim pal Chet (played winningly by Andrew Durand) are in pursuit. As if being stopped by his brother were not enough to worry about, Pete also has to contend with adding the contentious and cantankerous tomboy Frances (played like a pubescent Annie Oakley by Molly Ranson) as part of his posse.
After establishing the principal characters' backstories and their defining characteristics, Elder never allows them to evolve, and Tysen and Miller share fault in this lack of progression to the piece by rarely providing any character numbers. Instead, the twangy tunes are merely a succession of numbers that provide color and atmosphere rather than substance.
There are two theatrical conceits that do spark the show occasionally to life. The ghosts of the miners who were killed in the accident, including Pete and Jake's dad (Michael Park), have a presence in the piece, and while one's never entirely sure of their purpose, it ultimately becomes clear that it's both metaphysical and dramaturgical. Equally intriguing are appearances by Pete's movie heroes (all played with panache by Park), who offer advice and guidance in times of need.
Joe Calarco's fussy direction, which has the actors rearranging several ladders and chairs to indicate obstacles (the spare scenic design is by Brian Prather) and traipsing through the aisles among theatergoers, never energizes the piece. Worse yet, it often gives the piece a curiously numbing circularity. Lindsay Jones' sound design -- which makes the actors' voices sound as if they've been piped in, along with the off-stage band -- only serves to distance the audience further from this disappointing musical.
Off Broadway
The Burnt Part Boys
(Playwrights Horizons; 198 seats; $70 top)
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Pete - Al Calderon
Jake - Charlie Brady
Dusty - Noah Galvin
Chet - Andrew Durand
Frances - Molly Ranson
Twitchell/Crockett/Houston/Bowie - Michael Park
Playwrights Horizons has produced an adventurous, gripping and innovative musical about an Appalachian mining disaster: "Floyd Collins" opened at the non-profit in 1996, with a score by then-unknown Adam Guettel. Now Playwrights, in collaboration with the Vineyard Theater, have given us a second mining-disaster musical, "The Burnt Part Boys": fairly adventurous, gripping in parts, and somewhat innovative. There is quality work here from the young authors, director, and cast. Diehard fans of modern musical theater will find ample rewards, but "Burnt Part Boys" does not hit the heights of "Floyd" or the Vineyard's other recent "Boys," those from Scottsboro.
Composer Chris Miller and lyricist Nathan Tysen's score is intelligent and interesting, especially in the rousing group numbers. On first hearing, portions of the score sound similar; that was said of "Floyd Collins" too, although repeated hearings demonstrated that score's richness. (Both shows are graced with evocative string-and-guitar orchestrations by Bruce Coughlin.) Mariana Elder's book, too, is promising. Unfortunately, the authors take too long to get their story going; things don't become emotionally involving until the halfway point.
If ever a musical had a problematic title, "Burnt Part Boys" is it. Set in 1962, the protagonists are the sons of miners who were killed in a 1953 mining disaster; that section of the mountain was thereafter known as "the burnt part." This fictional tale of a West Virginia mining disaster couldn't be more timely -- there was one in April, killing twenty-nine miners -- and somewhat eerie. The onstage cave-in is exceptionally well handled by director Joe Calarco (and by his sound designer, Lindsay Jones). Calarco displays impressive ingenuity, building his staging around little more than four ladders and four chairs and making extensive use of the aisles. This works especially well once the characters start their trek up the mountain to the mine.
Unfortunately, we've just seen an expert example of similar staging by Susan Stroman in the Vineyard's "Scottsboro Boys" (which has just announced a fall transfer to the Lyceum). There is also grounds for comparison to another current Off Broadway musical: the young hero of "Burnt Part," a fan of the then-recent film "The Alamo," is counseled through his emotional turmoil by John Wayne-as-Davy Crockett. This notion doesn't work too well, and pales in comparison to the historical game-playing at "Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson." "Burnt Part Boys" apparently predates the stagings of both of these shows -- it was first performed in 2006 at Barrington Stage, mentored by composer William Finn (who taught the authors at NYU's Tisch School of the Arts). One can't help but feel, though, that we've just seen these things done better.
Cast does a fine job, especially once they get out of the breakfast room and into the woods. Al Calderon ("13") excels as the 14-year-old who attempts to bring honor to the memory of his barely-remembered father. Noah Galvin provides humor and warmth as his nerdy friend, and Molly Ranson ("August: Osage County") is extremely good as a wild runaway. Charlie Brady and Andrew Durand ("Yank") are strong as the other survivors, already old enough to work the mines. (They look far older than 18, though.)
Off-Broadway has had a string of notable musicals this spring, with "Scottsboro" and "Andrew Jackson" joined this month by "The Kid" and "Burnt Part." The latter is unlikely to be long-lived, perhaps, but songwriters Miller and Tysen make an impressive showing in their book musical debut.
Set, Brian Prather; costumes, Elizabeth Flauto;
lighting, Chris Lee; sound, Lindsay Jones;
orchestrations, Bruce Coughlin; production stage
manager, Lori Lundquist. Opened May 25, 2010. Reviewed
May 20. Runs through June 13. Running time: 1 HOUR, 35
MIN.
Songs: "God's Eyes," "Eight Hours," "Man I Never Knew," "Houston's Call to Arms," "The Burnt Part," "Sunrise," "Davy Crockett," "Good Morning Gun," "Little Toy Compass," "Climbing Song I," "Bowie's Lament," "Balancing," "Dusty Plays the Saw," "Family Tree," "Climbing Song II," "Disappear," "Countdown," "I Made That"
The Burnt Part Boys
now closedPhoto by Joan Marcus
Andrew Durand (as Chet), Charlie Brady (as Jake), Al Calderon (as Pete), Noah Galvin (as Dusty) and Molly Ranson (as Frances)
More production photographs
Review by Tulis McCall
(26 May 2010)
I had high hopes with “God’s Eyes” the opening number of this show. There is something quite wonderful about men singing four-part harmony with nothing but their voices to guide them. The music and orchestration in the production are superb. The story, however, is merely mediocre and the outcome of the combination is that the story comes in a distant second.
This is a timely tale of the lives of miners in West Virginia. In 1952 the South Mountain mine collapsed and twelve men never made it out. Ten years later, as this story picks up the tale, The Burnt Part, as the mine is called by the locals, is going to be reopened. Pete (Al Calderon) and Jake (Charlie Brady), sons of one of the miners, receive the news with opposite reactions. Jake is now a miner himself and wants the opportunity to finish what his father started. Pete, 14 and filled with hormones and movies, takes the news as a call to action – like Davie Bowie or Sam Houston would have. The Burnt Part is a grave not a mine and it should stay that way. He decides to climb up to the mine with his best friend Dusty (Noah Galvin) and drop some dynamite down the mouth of the mine, thereby sealing it forever. On the way he will encounter his movie heroes as well as a runaway school chum Frances (Molly Ranson) who has been living in the mountains since she ran away on account of she was a wild kid.
When Jake figures out where Pete has gone he goes after him and takes his best friend Chet (Andrew Durand).
Up the mountain everyone goes until the summit is reached, and all Hell breaks loose.
Pretty simple story with not a lot of suspense or obstacles. There is a lot of very good singing, and some wonderful staging using the barest of props. The mountain comes alive on the stage in a spectacular way. But that is just not enough to make a story. Great music, fabulous production values, excellent talent – and a story that is bland. There is just no other way to say it.
So good is the production – with the exception of the extreme overuse of the aisles in the audience - that you leave the theatre thinking “There was so much talent on that stage, maybe something DID happen?” And a few ‘somethings’ did – but not enough to match the mythic plot that was given. Two boys rush after the ghost of their father. One wants to resurrect, and one wants to bury. A little Antigone anyone? This is a rich premise, but the writers of this musical must have thought that premise and music were enough to carry the evening. Not so.
If you do go, you won’t be disappointed in the performances, and will make a lot of mental notes about people you would like to see and hear again. That would be the entire cast. Miller and Tyson are a musical team that you will want to hear from again as well. As for Mariana Elder – I hope she keeps working and finds herself a dramaturge to guide her. If she can come up with the story idea she can surely learn to connect the dots and keep us engaged at the same time.
But for this incarnation, The Burnt Part Boys is more marshmallow than mountain.
(Tulis McCall)
