“CARRIE”: Theatre Intime and the Princeton University Players have staged “Carrie.” Directed by Chloe Webster; and music directed by Jenia Marquez, the musical was presented February 27-March 1 at the Hamilton Murray Theater. Above: Carrie (Christie Davis, center right), who is used to being an outsider, enjoys attending her prom with Tommy (David Getz, center left) — unaware that she is about to be the victim of a cruel prank (as evidenced by the bucket above her head) and humiliated in front of her onlooking classmates. (Photo by Elena Milliken)

By Donald H. Sanborn III

Stephen King’s novel Carrie (1974) portrays Carrie White, a bullied high school senior who is secluded and abused by her religiously overzealous, puritanical mother. Carrie discovers that she has telekinetic powers, with which she exacts vengeance on her classmates (and others) when she is humiliated by a cruel prank at her prom.

The plot is a dark and bitter inversion of the Cinderella story, with the archetypes easy to spot. Carrie obviously is a variation on Cinderella. Margaret, her mother, becomes the wicked stepmother, and the taunting classmates are the stepsisters. A sympathetic gym teacher becomes the fairy godmother, while another student, Tommy, reluctantly fills the role of the prince (despite being in love with Sue, another classmate).

Carrie was adapted into a 1976 film, with a screenplay by Lawrence D. Cohen. Subsequently the novel and film were adapted into a musical, for which Cohen wrote the libretto. Dean Pitchford (the screenwriter of Footloose, and the co-writer of several songs for Fame) wrote the lyrics, with Michael Gore (Pitchford’s Fame collaborator) composing the music.

Cohen and his collaborators justly saw rich material for musical theater —particularly melodramatic and operatic musical theater, exemplified by Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street (1979) — in King’s story. Unfortunately, Carrie: The Musical (1988) was beset by multiple problems, and closed on Broadway after five performances.

A 2012 Off-Broadway revival, with a heavily revised script and score, fared little better. That year a New Yorker article’s headline wondered, “Is Carrie the Worst Musical of All Time?”

This past weekend Princeton theatergoers had an opportunity to answer that question. Theatre Intime and Princeton University Players have presented Carrie: The Musical. The artful, talented production was directed by Chloe Webster, with musical direction by Jenia Marquez (assisted by Daniel Liu).

Is Carrie an example of an initially unsuccessful musical that has been redeemed by time (and revision)? Without the benefit of having seen either the Broadway or Off-Broadway productions, but having seen Theatre Intime’s staging of the 2012 iteration, I cautiously suggest that the answer is both yes and no.

Yes, because of its exploration of themes that remain all too relevant. In a program note Webster observes “a strong anti-bullying message,” and adds, “in an age in which women’s bodies are increasingly policed and politicized, often using religion to do so … Carrie is a vital and topical story to tell.”
Satisfying character arcs and interactions also make the show stronger than its reputation suggests. Despite the romantic elements entailed by the prom, Carrie really is a triangle between the title character (portrayed in this production by Christie Davis) and two opposite mentors: Margaret (Allison Silldorff), who aims to stop her daughter from becoming self-aware and autonomous as a young woman; and Ms. Gardner, the gym teacher (Kristen Tan) who attempts to empower Carrie.

Sadly, the “no” part of the answer comes from a set of still-remaining structural problems that become clear as the show unfolds. Certain characterizations are underdeveloped, unclear, or inconsistent; and a few scenes (unfortunately including the climax) are rushed.

The first act is relatively strong. Ably conducting a 10-piece orchestra that mixes electronic and acoustic instruments, Marquez cues the opening: an eerie, otherworldly drone that later accompanies Carrie’s discovery of her telekinesis powers.

The opening number, “In,” lets us hear the students sing about their emotional states of mind: “Am I stupid? Am I hopeless? I just pray every move I make is right.” Any sympathy we might feel is short-lived; Webster immediately establishes Carrie’s outsider status by having her classmates turn their backs on her.

At school, Carrie is teased mercilessly when she menstruates without knowing what her body is doing. (Immediately, a blood motif is established.) Chris (Zoë Nadal) leads other girls — including Sue (Emma Schrier) and Norma (Faith Wangermann) — in throwing tampons at Carrie. Later, as punishment for this, Chris is banned from going to prom. To get revenge on Carrie she plans a cruel prank, in which she enlists the help of the dimwitted Billy (Jared Smith).

The title song, in which Carrie dreams of being addressed by her name instead of the epithets hurled at her by her classmates, is nicely performed by Davis, who brings an attractive mezzo-soprano and a way of acting her songs that is sweetly earnest and plaintive, while mixing a hint of the character’s inner resentment at her treatment at the hands of those around her. In contrast to the generic pop style used for the students, Carrie generally is given more lyrical, theatrical music, further setting her apart from her classmates.

At Carrie’s house Margaret appears to be watching a televangelist. The ensemble blends nicely in “Open Your Heart,” a subtle but wry satire on music that often accompanies religious TV shows. The host, Reverend Bliss (Kevin Edouard, who also plays Mr. Stephens, a teacher) is an example of a character that could be developed more fully; to what extent have Bliss’s sermons contributed to the extremity of Margaret’s views?

Silldorff and Davis play off of each other in some pithy duets: “And Eve Was Weak,” “I Remember How Those Boys Could Dance,” and “Stay Here Instead.” In delivering her part of these numbers, Silldorff tends to start quietly, letting intensity build in the middle. In a few places Margaret could have been a bit more powerful, but it is to the portrayal’s credit that we see the character’s vulnerability, caused by painful events in her past; we begin to understand, if not condone, her behavior.

Clara Bloom’s costumes reinforce Carrie’s initial codependence on Margaret (they wear the same red and white color scheme), and develop a thematic juxtaposition of red (blood) against white (purity). The suitably eerie, predominantly red lighting by Al Potter and Ben Goldston further reinforces the blood motif.

David Getz delivers an earnest rendition of Tommy’s “Dreamer in Disguise,” a song that represents a poem that Tommy writes and recites to a class, which moves Carrie. Davis and Tan’s voices are lovely in “Unsuspecting Hearts,” a duet that has one of Gore’s most attractive melodies.

Gore and Pitchford also are quite adept at ensemble numbers that juxtapose characters’ opposing intentions. A fine example — nicely delivered by Schrier, Getz, Nadal, and Smit — is “Do Me A Favor,” in which Sue (out of sympathy and remorse) persuades Tommy to ask Carrie to the prom instead of her; while Chris manipulates Billy into helping set into motion her plans to humiliate Carrie at the prom.

The cast is ably rounded out by Rowan Johnson (Freddy); Franchesca Alejo (Helen); Violet Demos (Stokes); and Tal Naider (Frieda).

Carrie has a three-word problem that is common in musical theater: second act trouble. This becomes clear when the students open the act with the affable and chipper “A Night We’ll Never Forget,” which is a nice (if obvious) bit of foreshadowing, but inconsistent with “In” and the students’ portrayal in most of the first act.

Additionally, there are scenes that do too little for the plot. An example is “You Shine,” a sweet duet for Tommy and Sue (nicely performed by Getz and Schrier) that could do more for the plot if, say, Carrie walked in on them and second-guessed Tommy’s intentions in asking her to the prom. As it is, the number is fundamentally about two secondary characters.

More seriously the climax of the show is so rushed that it is not entirely clear what happens. Carrie — in fulfillment of Chris’s scheme — having had a bucket of pig’s blood spilled on her just after she is crowned prom queen, snaps and uses her telekinetic powers to kill Chris and several others in the room. (Subsequently, in an epilogue, Carrie kills Margaret after the latter, having failed to control her, tries to stab her.)

Unfortunately, it looks like Carrie’s victims are merely placed in a trance. Because the scene is underwritten, a director needs to let the actors mime, more slowly and deliberately, what is happening.

That said, Webster uses the space effectively. For a sequence in which Chris sneaks into the prom, Webster places her outside an indoor window of the auditorium, while Carrie (as part of Chris’s prank) is crowned. For that brief moment, Chris is the outsider—at least visually. (Elena Milliken’s set is artfully spare until the prom, when it is allowed to be a bit more lavish.)

It is either ironic or fitting that Carrie — a musical about a mother who inhibits her daughter’s emotional growth — presents engaging ideas and characters, but stumbles in their development. It is to be hoped that the show gets one more rewrite; because while the palpably well-received production at Princeton University reveals its flaws, it also amply demonstrates its considerable potential.

For information about Theatre Intime’s upcoming productions visit theatreintime.org.