Spring Awakening

Spring Awakening Review

The last Broadway show I saw was Spring Awakening, and, to be completely mundanely boring, I found it just as intoxicating and exhilarating as those mythic Tony voters of lore did. I have to admit that my experience was deeply affected, though far from marred, by an enormous crush on Jonathan Groff that, like an old war wound, still twinges a bit whenever I think of German teenagers. (After re-reading that sentence, my analogy actually makes a lot more sense than I had originally intended.) I showed up knowing every single song in the show, having obsessively listened to the soundtrack beforehand, and it didn’t spoil any plot twists, because the songs act more as a commentary on the show than they advance the plot. I was pleasantly surprised at how many jokes and funny moments came out of the wood work through good performances and clever direction; many more, indeed, than I heard just listening. As I am hard-wired to be sarcastic and jaded, I had to work hard not to snicker when I first saw Leah Michele β€˜dancing’ like she was taking a bubble bath, but soon bought into the interpretive choreography. And also, I was shocked, even then, at how I completely accepted the β€˜dry ice, back from the dead’ sequence. Spring Awakening was a beautiful fusion of then and now.

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