Review: New Musical THE CEILING at (Le) Poisson Rouge Is Stellar

New Yorkers know that space is coveted–on the train, on the sidewalk, in our shoebox apartments–but The Ceiling creates a sense of space that forces the imagination to extend far beyond the limits of the theatre walls.

The Ceiling (book, music, and lyrics by Blake Allen) takes Kevin Brockmeier's O. Henry Prize-winning short story and strips it down to its most essential elements. The story doesn't hesitate to jump right into the action–trading set-up and exposition for a birthday party and a man in a hot-air balloon–and instead grants the audience the unique satisfaction of figuring out exactly who these characters are for themselves. They say to trust your audience and let them feel smart; The Ceiling certainly does. Susan Aston's direction serves this minimal approach beautifully as she creates a number of stage pictures that depict both a uniting town and a fracturing marriage, not to mention a barber shop, a playground, and the aforementioned man in a balloon.

Allen's music is immediately captivating and shifts eloquently and effortlessly with the narrative. It serves as a motor that keeps the story moving through what could otherwise be a slow meditation on life and loss. For the music theory-inclined, take note of Allen's ability to move into new tonal centers with little more than a pivot note. These clever and thoughtful musical gestures keep the ear engaged throughout and serve to underscore moments of curiosity and questioning on the parts of the characters. Allen offers a range of styles, paying homage to New Orleans, mid-century girl groups, and the Broadway greats, but it's when he gives his performers soaring melodies that the music and the narrative work the most seamlessly. Allen's music feels intuitive and character-driven, and could almost tell the story in and of itself, hitting the emotional beats that are often far too difficult to put into words.

The cast is lead by Christine Dwyer (Melissa) and Nathaniel Hackmann (Kevin) who bring a lightness and a humanity to their roles, making it impossible to root for one character over the other. Here are two people whose lives are changing imperceptibly at first, but when things really begin to fall apart, Dwyer and Hackmann trace their respective arcs with empathy, vulnerability, and the understanding that we are all at least a little bit flawed. In addition, Jake Pederson (Joshua) brings a lovely childlike element to his portrayal of the couple's young son, and Cory Daniel Gibson (The Banshee/Silent Man) delivers on a wonderfully unexpected, comparatively absurd lament about the things we leave behind. Literally. The ensemble is utilized beautifully, with a number of solos that let audiences empathize with each townsperson's perspective on humanity. The cast is–pardon the space pun–stellar.

For as much as the minimalist take on Brockmeier's story works, the book might benefit from a few moments of clarity and specificity. There is an engaging abstract element in the skyward "phenomenon" that is approaching the town, leaving the characters to wonder what exactly is happening. Upon hearing Melissa reply "I'm fine" to each of his inquiries into her well-being, Kevin is left to wonder what exactly is happening. A few moments of specificity may alleviate audience members from asking the same question and allow a deeper understanding of the characters' experiences.

In the end, The Ceiling asks audiences to consider life on Earth and the expansive unknown of space all at once. How does what's out there affect us down here? How do we, down here, affect each other? For better or worse. This show might make you seek out the moon–you can see it, even in New York City–and realize that our space also extends past the walls of our trains, sidewalks, and shoebox apartments.

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Follow Blake Allen on Instagram at @blakeallenpresents

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