Review: NOIR Crackles with Style at the Alley Theatre

It was a cool and quiet night on the streets of Los Angeles, the City of Angels abuzz with secret lives, and an anxious shut-in was waiting to tell us a story. This is the lead-in to Noir, the new world premiere musical by Duncan Sheik (Spring Awakening, American Psycho) and Kyle Jarrow (SpongeBob SquarePants: The Musical) - and what a story it is.

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Fashioning itself a pastiche of the titular film genre, Noir introduces us to an unnamed narrator simply called The Neighbor (Adam Kantor) who, unwilling to leave his apartment, treats the lives of his neighbors as his own personal soap operas. Like any good noir protagonist, he is haunted by the sins of his past. These sins take the form of Scarlet (Christy Altomare), his former flame and a pill-popping cabaret singer with a propensity for trouble. Scarlet lurks in every corner of his imagination, taking up permanent residence in his mind, and Altomare is clearly having fun slinking across the room as a ghost that only the Neighbor can see.

However, the Neighbor's insular existence is upended when a married couple moves in next door and his eavesdropping ends up getting him involved in their personal problems. The conflict is standard: the Husband (David Guzman) owes money to the wrong people, the Wife (Morgan Marcell) feels trapped, infidelity and murder ensue. As the plot unfolds and the Neighbor begins to grow attached to the seemingly victimized Wife, we start to learn that all is perhaps not as it seems. The storyline is also intercut with flashbacks to the Neighbor's relationship with Scarlet, slowly letting us in on the secret of why he is so haunted by her memory.

The beginning of the show sets us up for a mystery, introducing a number of questions while teasing the possible answers: Who are the Husband and Wife hiding from? What happened to Scarlet? Why can't the Neighbor leave his apartment? However, what we end up getting is caught somewhere between a love story, a revenge drama, and a black comedy.

The Neighbor is an interesting character, insofar as we know relatively little about him. Aaron Rhyne's excellent projection design does a great job of putting us in his mindset, surrounding the back wall with images of windows through which the Neighbor conducts his voyeurism. It is clear this is a man who has lost the ability to engage with the world around him. This disconnect colors his role in the story, as we are given small clues throughout that his narration may not be the most reliable.

Scarlet is an obvious cliche of the stereotypical damsel-in-distress. She smokes, she's a junkie, she has an abusive boyfriend who the Neighbor desperately wants her to leave. And of course, to amp up the sex appeal for the desperate young man with a savior complex, she doesn't know her own worth. "You deserve to be happy," the Neighbor tells her after their first meeting. "I don't think anyone's ever said that to me before," she replies. My eyes nearly rolled out of my head.

It's not all bad, though. While the character may be a discount Sally Bowles, she also gets to take some turns as a gleefully demented Emcee, belting out showstoppers that underscore the action onstage and add some much-needed levity and flair. Plus, Christy Altomare is impossible to look away from; she makes sure that Scarlet commands the stage even when the writing for her character falters.

As for the Wife, she is a confusing character at times, but that is intentional. It is clear she is not happy with where her husband's mistakes have gotten them, and her pessimistic view of love is set up as a clear parallel to the Neighbor. The audience is never quite sure if she is just another damsel, or the other side of the archetypal coin, the Femme Fatale.

Through his imaginary conversations with Scarlet and real world conversations with the Wife, the Neighbor begins to work through some of his issues regarding intimacy and the toll it takes on us. However, by the end of the show, one wonders if the writers were ever actually interested in wrestling with that concept, or if it only served as a clever set up for the final twist.

The cast is all in fine form. Adam Kantor is in his element as the twitchy and neurotic Neighbor, and his singing voice remains clear and expressive. Christy Altomare is radiant, elevating every scene that she is in. Morgan Marcell channels her character's cynicism well, and her deadpan delivery gets some deserved laughs, though it's her superb dancing that stands out the most. The cast is rounded out by David Guzman, Clifton Samuels, Voltaire Wade-Greene, and Sinclair Daniels, all of whom are similarly excellent. Guzman, in particular, pulls double duty as both the Husband and the Wife's lover, and his ability to delineate the two characters is crucial for setting up the show's penultimate twist.

The songs, while exciting, are designed less to further the plot than to inject the scenes with some necessary vitality, and they accomplish that task with panache and style. Each number is accompanied by Philip Rosenberg's sumptuous lights and Karla Puno Garcia's electric choreography, the latter of which is so striking that it threatens to run off with the entire show. Those numbers led by Altomare get an extra dose of crackle thanks to her undeniable charisma.

The other design elements are a treat for the eyes. Scenic designer Alexander Dodge decorates the Neighbor's apartment with an array of colorful knick-knacks that evoke the clutter and claustrophobia that define his everyday life.

Linda Cho, the always-reliable costume maven, plays it simple for most of the characters, but goes all out on Scarlet, dressing Altomare in flashy nightclub dresses that accentuate her natural allure while still giving the impression that she is a heel snap away from falling apart.

By all accounts, Noir is entertaining, if not totally riveting. Unfortunately, for all its enjoyable parts, it fails to stick the landing. Like all good noir films, the show has a twist. It is a twist that cleverly utilizes the show's premise, flips what we thought we knew on its head, and brings us back to that central idea of intimacy and what it truly means to know others.

The only problem is that something feels incomplete. The story doesn't feel over. When the truth is revealed, it lacks the weight of a climax. We're left wondering what is going to happen next, because surely this is not the ending. And it's not.

The twist is quickly followed by...another twist. A double twist, if you will. The second twist follows almost immediately after the first and, while it does pack the weight of a true climax, it doesn't bring the story home so much as it knocks the whole thing off-kilter. The thing about a good mystery is that when all is revealed, it feels like all of the pieces click into place. We look back at what has already happened and everything is recontextualized. Things that didn't make sense before become clear. The story achieves a sense of completion because we understand how all of the pieces fit together. But this twist comes barreling out of left field with such force that it knocks the pieces off the table entirely and leaves us with the feeling that we are suddenly in a completely different story. It is the kind of twist that serves not to elevate the story but allow the writer to show off how clever they are.

Some may appreciate how the show ends, and I won't fault them for it. It is certainly a more decisive ending than the false climax that precedes it. Either way, I don't feel that any ill-intent the audience may bear toward the ending will ruin their experience of the show, which remains, if nothing else, a stylistic romp through the tropes and trappings of a beloved genre. The high-octane tap routine featuring two gangsters beating a guy up as if they are auditioning for an urban reimagining of Singin' in the Rain is worth the price of admission by itself.

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Noir runs through July 3 at The Alley Theatre. Tickets start at $28 and can be purchased at https://www.alleytheatre.org/plays/production-detail/noir or by contacting the box office at (713) 220-5700.

 

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