by William A. Raidy
The Star-Ledger
5/13/88

NEW YORK-Carrie, the troubled heroine-victim of the film-and now the musical-that bears her name, has a special, supernatural gift, telekinesis, the ability to move objects and people through the power of her mind.

Would that the composer, lyricist, book writer, director and set designer had had this occult power, and some others as well, before "Carrie," based on Stephen King's novel, and inspired by the Brian de Palma film, became the musical mess it is.

The biggest sin "Carrie," which opened last night at the Virginia Theatre under the prestigious banner of the Royal Shakespeare Company, commits is being stupefyingly dull.

With all the laser show flash, tricky pyrotechnics, the blood and the thump-rock disco music, "Carrie" still hardly manages to keep one's attention. One of the reasons is that one never gets involved with Carrie, the withdrawn high school girl whose life is cruelly regimented by her religious fanatic of a mother, who's obviously psychotic as well.

I had never seen the Brian de Palma blood bath cult flick until last week, when I rented a videotape to look at it in preparation for attending this musical, which opened first in Stratford-on-Avon before coming to Broadway.

I am very glad I did because without having seen the film, I think I might have been lost along the way at the Virginia Theatre. The rest of the audience around me obviously had seen it too, so little exposition for them was necessary. And by the way, they all howled with glee throughout.

Let's forget the trite music and lyrics that don't always fit the musical line for a moment. Lawrence D. Cohen's book fails to give any depth to the bizarre relationship between Carrie and her mama. Mama simply slaps her around a great deal, pushes her down on her knees to pray and warns her not to go to that wicked senior prom.

The musical version then does strange things to what's left of the story line. The plot concerns Carrie's having her first menstrual period in the school gymnasium shower, something she's emotionally unprepared for because her mother has shunned all talk of sexual matters, which she associates with sin.

When Carrie, already considered an oddball, becomes hysterical, her schoolmates taunt and humiliate her. The meanest girl in class, in this version, orders her boy friend to get hold of some pig's blood even before Carrie reluctantly agrees to go to the prom. How does she know that totally withdrawn Carrie, who never takes part in school activities, will go? (She will be drenched in the blood after mockingly being named prom queen).

In the film, the invitation, from a handsome young jock, was also part of the set-up leading to the eventual blood bath when revengeful Carrie makes all hell break loose through her telekinesis.

The musical "Carrie" has softened the cruel edges, further diminishing both the horror and tragedy of the work. Here, the girl friend of the young man who escorts Carrie to the dance prompts him to do it out of pity for the awkward, pudgy girl with those secret powers she, herself, is not completely aware of.

Another odd situation in this musical occurs when poor Carrie finally gets her dowsing of pig's blood. In the film, it was a highly dramatic moment when the fluid splashed from a bucket high above, rigged by the cruel conspirators. In this new musical, a young man simply walks on stage. . bucket in hand... and pours it on her. Of course, three quarters of the audience at my performance knew what to expect, but the slow motion of it all stopped the show in its vulgar tracks. With all those exploding props, burning pieces of scenery and laser fireworks, something a bit more dramatic could have been arranged.

The one area in which "Carrie" keeps the side up is the dancing choreographed by Debbie Allen. While much of it seems latter day "West Side Story" advanced to this decade, at least it has a great deal of vitality.

Seventeen-year-old Linzi Hately, the youngest leading lady in the history of the RSC, plays Carrie, and considering all the show's handicaps she's up against (principally no real music to sing), she is quite effective. Poor Betty Buckley, dressed in black, has the totally thankless job of sitting in the dark most of the time, mournfully moaning out some half-songs about sin.

Charlotte d'Amboise, playing the heartless ringleader and head practical joker, has the most defined role in the play and, in many ways, she is the most successful player of all. Half the time, I felt like cheering for Charlotte because she was the only one in the show having a good time.

Another half-thankless role is Miss Gardner, the gym teacher who tries to give poor Carrie some needed guidance. Darlene Love gives the part considerable spirit.

Terry Hands, the Royal Shakespeare Company's artistic director and chief executive, seems almost lost as to what to do between the laser gimmicks and blood bath. The production is continually fenced in by a lot of unnecessary high-tech scenery, including a giant white staircase at the finale that only God should walk up.

Some of the creators of this story of a crazed Cinderella, I understand like to define "Carrie" as "a musical tragedy." I look upon it the same way. . . a $7 million musical tragedy!