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Genius Famous

nytheatre.com review by Martin Denton
August 15, 2005

I have to admit to feeling a bit confounded by Genius Famous. This facetious new musical comedy by Jason Atkinson boasts an energetic cast, a talented director, and a couple of neat and probably workable concepts. In places it has the self-referential jocularity of an Avenue Q. But too often the show seems rudderless and/or fuzzy; you'll note that I mentioned two concepts just now, and Genius Famous feels very torn between them.On the one hand, the show is about a young artist's obsession with celebrity. At the top of Genius Famous, we're told that songwriter Richard Bantam is both of those titular adjectives—or at least he's got genius now, with the fame expected to follow very soon. Apparently Richard is more worried about being prominent than staying true to his art, and one of the tracks in Genius Famous's plot tests Richard's resilience to help him learn a (presumed) lesson about humility and being true to himself.On the other hand, there's a character named Barkley Vordenstein, a one-time punk- or acid-rocker who is now a prisoner in a jingle-writing factory, which he is plotting to take over and adapt to his own dastardly ends—something along the lines of creating music that is so painful that it kills people. (There are, alas, a few examples of such music—intentional—in the score.) The Barkley plotline is vaguely sci-fi and deliberately kitschy, a la Ed Wood.Atkinson doesn't manage to blend the two stories very dexterously; in fact they collide frequently with each other, and also with the jokey style in which the entire show is performed: actors break the fourth wall all the time, talking to the audience and, occasionally, to the pianist; characters seem to be aware that they're in a musical; and for some strange reason Barkley serves as narrator for approximately the first 20 minutes of the show. Atkinson and director Ryan J. Davis seem to be reaching for parody by emphasizing elements that are deliberately corny (such as the Carole King-ish song called "Yellow Sneakers" that eventually "defeats" Barkley and his nefarious scheme) or deliberately silly (like the rainbow-colored jump rope with which Barkley is tied to his chair). And Atkinson's music and lyrics seem intentionally designed to be un-musical and un-lyrical, for the most part. (There's a song called "I'm the Shit," for example.) At least I think all of this is deliberate; ultimately I was unsure of precisely what the creators of this piece have in mind. The cast works hard, but they don't clarify things: Carson Hinners is very likable as Richard and Kat Ross is earnest as his love interest, Candace; and the five-member ensemble (Sarah Bunker, Elle Chauviere, Matt David, Sarah Jenkins, and Topher Mikels), who probably have the most stage time, all make good impressions.