What the heck; here comes Shrek!

I never thought I would live to see the day when a featured number in a Broadway musical would be totally about flatulence. Admittedly, some belching is also an integral part of the “lyrics” but loud and prolonged farting dominates a number called “I Think I Got You Beat” near the beginning of the second act of Shrek, The Musical which opened last Sunday at the Broadway Theatre. This “song” is fairly typical of how this show is positioned, that is, to attract the lowest common denominator of a middle class audience that probably can’t afford to go anyway; that is, 12 year-old boys in groups of four or more.

After an ill-deserved standing ovation (most of them are) and we were struggling to make our escape up the aisle of this huge theater, I overheard a woman say, “well, that wasn’t half bad.” In trying to assess my own opinion it occurred to me that could also mean it wasn’t half good either. And I guess that’s about where I stand. Shrek is yet another long, overstuffed, sometimes nicely performed Broadway show whose source material is a cartoon, even though it’s not Mr. Disney this time. I suppose Dreamworks felt they needed to elbow their way into this market too, if only for the cachet of the name value of Broadway.

I wasn’t a huge fan of the original animated film so it’s no surprise I’m not a big fan of the Broadway musical. The story line is exactly the same as the cartoon with the exception of a phalanx of famous fairy tale characters, led by an obnoxious Pinocchio, forming a picket line (shades of Billy Elliott) to protest their unfair "relocation" to Shrek's swamp and banishment from “normal” society. In fact there is a rather dark undercurrent, probably snuck in by the playwright David Lindsay-Abaire who is credited with the “book” although the blueprint is copied directly from the movie, which draws a parallel to ethnic cleansing by the Lord of the realm, Farquaad, and his pseudo-perfect henchmen. In an amusing twist Farquaad is outed late in the show as a “halfling” by the rabble because it’s discovered his real father was Grumpy. Yes, he of Hi-Ho fame; which accounts for the Lord’s rather short stature. It’s still not clear to me who his mother could be but the only woman around at the time went by the name Snow. I’ll have to scrounge the truth from my backstage spies to see what the inside consensus is about this in-or-out-of-wedlock mystery. Whatever the answer it leans dangerously toward the sordid.

Shrek, The Musical is now carrying the standard of over-bloat on Broadway and, again, I’m afraid I have to say that some judicious cutting desperately needs to be applied, no matter how cruel it might be to the egos of the hardworking actors. Most of the costumes, although colorful and sometimes clever, adhere closely to those in the film; sometimes almost to the immobility for the human beings trapped within. Unfortunately this applies to two of the leads, both the Donkey and the slime-green ogre, Shrek himself. Maybe it’s unfortunate that I was in the front row of the orchestra…too close for comfort and too easy to see the ear holes.

But, sigh, the show is what it is…and I guess it’s too late for any of my caveats and/or suggestions to be considered. Shrek, The Musical is yet another Broadway juggernaut that probably couldn’t be stopped once its financing topped $10 million. Even on opening night there were already various strategically placed vendors scattered about selling expensive souvenirs of the show. I was actually tempted by a t-shirt depicting the gingerbread man with the words “Eat Me”. It has no context in Shrek but, like the show itself, it’s cute and sort-of entertaining in a perverse way. At least I didn’t see anything for sale that breaks wind.