I used to agree that the mother/daughter scenes were sooooo beautiful without really giving it much thought. Then I gave it some thought and I put aside my hanky and realized what a travesty Carrie actually is.
There's nothing wrong with liking things on a primal level. EVERY form of art has elements that appeal to our most simplistic desires, no matter how much greatness is encoded within it. But Carrie doesn't really bear any greatness at all. At least not as a musical.
Of course it "works." It works as a collection of instantly likable, catchy, or sentimental numbers featuring belting divas. Notice how, when anyone calls one of the Buckley numbers "amazing!!!!" they are mostly referring to her crazy belt. It's no mystery why the same exact number fails to draw even a fraction of the same reaction when sung by Barb Cook. No belt, no amazing number. HUGE flaw number one.
The score is very nicely orchestrated and is evocative but the crap lyrics throughout only widen what should be a tightly integrated piece. Instead, we get a lush string ensemble providing an eloquent musical backdrop to some of the worst, most awkward and simplistic set of lyrics in the history of musical theatre. A 10-minute soliloquy where Carrie shrieks her own name a record amount of times and likens herself to distant thunder and begins with the hilarious "THAT'S NOT MY NAAAAAAAAAME!!!!!" Talk about "bursting into song" at the drop of a hat. And what do we learn by the end? Nada. It's not her name. It's Carrie. OK
The mother/daughter scenes are beautiful in terms of harmony, orchestration, mood, yadayadayada. But what do they achieve? Melodrama at its worst, the fatal flaw being its taking itself too seriously. We learn that Carrie and Mama are loners who really, really love each other. OK.
The classmates scenes are random, puzzling, and annoying.
Carrie and Ms. Gardener prance around in sneakers and pumps to the uplifting tune of "Unsuspecting Hearts." Sure, it's a very, very catchy number, one jam-packed with painfully cliche one-liners.
How would you react to a friend coming to aide you in your hour of need with...
"In a world where nothing's sure
And nothing's ever guaranteed
You should trust the way you feel
That's the only thing that's real!" I'd sock 'em right in the nose.
And then there's "I'm Not Alone." Oh, Lordy.
I think it's the show's catchiest tune. It is really too bad the lyrics once again cause one to cringe at their awfulness. Loaded once more with a million cliche phrases...
"Where there was one
Now there are two! (Oh, rly?)
That's the kind of magic only love can do (Ya don't say???)
Thinking of him thrills me so much
I can move a mountain now with just a single touch! (OK) Worst of all, it's another 10 minute Beeeeeautiful Number that leaves us high and dry. She waltzes with her dress and tap dances with enchanted shoes and talks about how some guy freed her from some lonely tower. Okie dokie. But fails to address the enchanted shoes and waltzing dress. Or telekinesis.
Sue croons about how it hoits to be strong. Next!
True, the mother/daughter scenes are miles better than the rest of the show. The only numbers I'd say could survive intact in their original form (yes, even the substandard lyrics) are "And Eve Was Weak," "I Remember How Those Boys Could Dance," and "Evening Prayers," even though the latter really comes off more like a shouting match. It's a guilty pleasure.
The prom sequence is like 70's disco...all flash and melody in the most shameless display of bombast ever assembled on stage. Wotta night!
I really like "Heaven." Somehow, whether their intention or not, they managed to take an iconic scene from the film which featured a similarly pretty tune and create one very much in the same spirit while being completely original in melody and being very theatrical at the same time. The counterpoint works very well here and it's a brilliant moment to use the device in. One of the few scenes that conjures at least a semblance of what makes musical theatre so great and unique.
Then they just ruin it all a million times over by having Billy jog up to Carrie and plop a small pail of Halloween blood over her noggin.
She emits lasers from her hands and crotch and suffers what appears to be explosive bouts of PMS (still no mention of telekinesis so it's safe to assume it's "a girl thing" considering she was instructed to "plug-it-up" earlier in the evening), which makes everyone die.
Mama meets her on random white steps where she tickles her with a knife. Carrie giggles and taps her mother lightly on her boob, which makes her die.
Sue cradles Carrie, which somehow makes her die.
The end.
Those of you who say people want to see the original, unintentionally quirky 1988 version are dead-on. Why would I want to see something I can actually take seriously? Carrie, the musical, is fun to despise. Trying to make me love it the way I love, say, Les Miserables, will only irritate me.
Much like the love/hate that makes Evita so intriguing, the mixture of the two emotions in us is what makes this travesty work.
Recreation of original John Cameron orchestration to "On My Own" by yours truly. Click player below to hear.
