Spamalot Broadway Reviews

The thought caromed around my mind in between heady bouts of pure glee as I watched the new Broadway revival of the musical, directed and choreographed by Josh Rhodes, a rising star now fully risen. In prospect the notion of a revival struck me as premature. “Spamalot” again, already? The show closed on Broadway in 2009 after a run of almost four years. But within just a few blissful minutes any reservations were vanquished. In fact the arrival of this production, blazing like a burst of summer sunshine as winter draws near, seems perfectly timed. Who could resist the impulse to bask in a couple of hours of deliriously funny escapism at a time when the world seems to be getting grimmer by the day? Among other things, this joyously juvenile and sublimely funny travesty of legend reminds us that people in the Middle Ages were probably as buffoonish—and bloodthirsty-as they are today.

All the dancing, singing and questing unfolds on a clever, attractive set designed by Paul Tate dePoo III, whose projections – many seemingly inspired by Terry Gilliam’s instantly recognizable Python style of animation – play a crucial role in the production. Some of the effects are of a decidedly (and intentionally) DIY nature, like the catapulted (or, really, just tossed) cow or the bloodthirsty bunny, but all work terrifically within the show’s self-aware approach.

Letting the clowns run the flying circus, at least part-time, is integral to the history of Python’s success. (Idle told The Times that the material survives because “it was written by its actors and acted by its writers.”) It is also a smart move for a show that could otherwise feel calcified; a production I saw at the Stratford Festival over the summer seemed more like an animatronic museum exhibit, making me doubt it was really revivable. And even this mostly excellent production betrays a faint odor of mothballs, especially in the projection-heavy scenic design of Paul Tate dePoo III, so dependent on the feel of Terry Gilliam’s original animations. The key to the comedy is not after all replication but individuation. The Pythons were each their own kind of oddball, and the bits are only funny with fresh bite.

Spamalot’s expertly written and performed silliness is endless, beguiling, and winning, and so well-done that—despite the gay and Jewish clunkers of songs—the musical remains a daffy, rollicking night out. The final confetti canon—a Broadway staple, and often a last desperate roll of the dice in any show—here feels absolutely perfect.

The most iconic bits — fisch schlapping, coconuts as horseshoes — are timeless, though your laughter will simply be proportional to how much you enjoy Monty Python's silly sketch-comedy style in general. My personal favorites are the 'so bad they're good' puns, like when Arthur (James Monroe Iglehart) describes the Holy Grail as a 'symbol,' cueing the cymbalist. The other strength of Spamalot is that it gives every one of its principal cast members a chance to shine. And shine they do. Ethan Slater proves himself one of the best physical comedians on Broadway right now in a variety of bit parts, making each one feel larger than life. Michael Urie makes a meal of the showstopping 'You Won't Succeed on Broadway' as Sir Robin, and Christopher Fitzgerald does the same with 'Always Look on the Bright Side of Life' as Patsy, though his best moment is his silent comedic acting in the background of Arthur's 'I'm All Alone.'

Speaking of Act 2 showstoppers: There are a few—starting with the crowd-pleaser “Always Look on the Bright Side of Life,” the British music-hall ditty made famous in Monty Python’s Life of Brian. And perhaps most memorably, there’s “You Won’t Succeed on Broadway,” Sir Robin’s patter song explaining what every good Broadway musical needs: “There simply must be, Arthur, trust me/ Simply must be Jews.” It’s a massive production number incorporating a Fiddler on the Roof parody, a Streisand impersonator, and Michael Urie on a chair doing his best “Mein Herr,” and yes, it lands differently in November 2023. (There’s also, alas, a sound issue, which seems to be a St. James Theatre problem; the singers were getting drowned out during Into the Woods as well.) You can feel the audience asking themselves, Is it okay to laugh? Is the song offensive? For that matter, is it any more or less offensive than the disco-tastic number “His Name Is Lancelot,” which is basically one big gay stereotype wrapped in Lycra? No judgment here. But if you don’t chuckle over the lyric “There’s a very small percentile/ Who enjoys a dancing gentile,” I promise—I will judge you.

Age – a hiatus of 14 years, some of them plague-ridden – has not withered Spamalot’s inspired looniness. If you saw the Broadway production the first time around (2005-2009), of course you’re going to go back. Who would pass up a chance to relive Eric Idle’s hilariously dark spoof of the Middle Ages, especially as recast with a whole new set of comedic aces? All of the replacements, smartly marshaled by director/choreographer Josh Rhodes for last spring’s Kennedy Center revival, seem to be having the time of their lives.

In this company of men, however, it is a woman who really dazzles: Leslie Rodriguez Kritzer as the sword-bestowing Lady of the Lake, whom the show depicts as an attention-hungry prima donna. This is the showcase role that longtime Kritzer fans—another group that includes, full disclosure, me—have been waiting for, and she grabs it by the throat in a full-tilt comedic and vocal tour de force, culminating in the delightfully ostentatious “Diva’s Lament.” It’s in the Lady of the Lake’s spotlight moments, the show’s biggest departure from the nearly all-male Grail, that Spamalot comes into its own most effectively and takes flight—not as an African swallow, capable of carrying significant weight, or merely as a parrot, possibly dead, but as what it is: a lark.

It’s not that either of those songs weren’t funny originally. Spamalot, as staged by the late Mike Nichols in that dominant premiere, was a giddy delight from top to bottom. And the original cast album remains a testament to the show’s scrumptiously irreverent good nature, the cleverness of Eric Idle’s lyrics, and the razzle-dazzle buoyancy of Idle and John Du Prez’s music. But not every joke told 18 years ago is going to land the same way now. Indeed, in its restaging, Spamalot has become a sort of musical theater palimpsest, a monument to what we found funny in America in 2005 resting on a pedestal of 1970s British absurdism, newly draped with some 2023 fabrics intended to keep those older structures from corroding.

The real star of the show is the divine Leslie Rodriguez Kritzer as the Lady of the Lake in what deserves to be a Tony Award-winning turn. (I don’t care that it’s only November!) Channeling a bit of Carol Burnett with a soupcon of Celine Dion, she is both consistently hilarious and vocally spectacular, stealing every spotlight that is shone on her! Indeed, if Broadway could just can this dynamic diva, that would be worth all the Spam in the world.

The audience reaction at the St. James is decidedly more animated regarding the over-the-top performance of Leslie Rodriguez Kritzer. She plays the Lady of the Lake, which is the show’s drag-queen role. The Lady is a diva and indulges in all the caterwauling and overuse of melisma that are a hallmark of the Disney princess roles in musicals. Why audiences laugh at Kritzer’s delivery of songs and then turn around to lap up overblown crap like “Let It Go” remains a mystery. Long stretches of this “Spamalot” appear run by an automatic pilot who’d overdosed on speed. A manic quality often substitutes for anything resembling wit. However, the comedy often comes to life whenever a handful of performers grab the spotlight. In addition to Kritzer, they are Christopher Fitzgerald (a put-upon sidekick), Ethan Slater (a puckish prince), Michael Urie (a nonviolent knight) and Nik Walker (a studly knight).

Frankly, I wish the revival, directed and choreographed by Josh Rhodes, had more of an explicit and distinct point of view, put itself in more interesting conversation with the original production and offered a deeper dive into the Python aesthetic, maybe as a bit of a necessary history lesson. There are times when the cast’s exuberance adds too much moisture to the sandpaper-dry humor and even gets in the way of Du Prez and Idle’s lyrics. As one example, Leslie Rodriguez Kritzer, fun as she is, would get more laughs if her Lady of the Lake focused first and foremost on the character, rather than the vocal pyrotechnics.

But in its best moments, Spamalot knows its business, and that’s show business, baby. Its smart move was to translate Grail’s cheeky meta-ness into a new medium. The movie knew it was a movie, the musical knows it’s a musical, and it goes coconuts to the wall to send up and celebrate that fact. In the Broadway landscape of 2023, Spamalot turns out to be oddly well positioned to lure people in with the promise of the quotably familiar, then blast them in the face with a confetti cannon full of THEATER (and literal confetti).

“Monty Python and the Holy Grail,” of course, was not a big-budget project and “Spamalot” needn’t be either. But if you can’t afford to be spectacular, like Mike Nichols’ original production was, then make the design clever and funny. Nope. This one settles for mere functionality. It’s yet another missed opportunity for the revival to be something at least a little different.

Hijinks ensue, with most actors swapping roles to portray characters and farcical situations the audience has come to expect from the well-known classic. Were the plot sturdy or the jokes timeless, Idle’s decision to leave the book largely untouched would be fine. But alas, as with many other whose near-two-decade cobwebs were only lightly dusted off, I was left to consume a number about a character’s coming out that, until the final moments when a few Grindr beeps came through, comprised what a 2005 straight man’s idea of gayness was like. (Ironically, the tight-bodied spangles and Vegasness of that number might now be considered part of the heteronorm, but I digress.) So, fine, it’s not for me. The cast is clearly having a good time – though only Ethan Slater, swapping through multiple characters, as well as Kritzer, Walker, and especially Killam tap into the all-out comedy the work requires. And the audience? Well, their holy grail was promised and delivered, without much work to obtain it.

Spamalot is a show that is near and dear to my heart, and I must say, the audience seemed to share that familiarity and fondness. It was an audience of people who clearly were familiar with Monty Python content, but not necessarily in the context of this specific show, which made for a really fun crowd of people who were laughing at the familiar references and enjoying watching them crop up. The show is not selling at (or near) full capacity, and I suspect that a large part of that is that people who do not already have a connection to this content are not necessarily interested in coming to see the show. Demographics wise, the audience was primarily composed of adults who would have seen these movies in their youth, for whom nostalgia was a significant draw. FULL REVIEW: pagesonstages .com