Review: TICK...TICK...BOOM! at Alumnae Theatre

What could be more indie theatre than a musical about trying to stay true to yourself as a musical theatre writer without selling out?

Jonathan Larson’s semi-autobiographical Tick…Tick…Boom! is catnip to young theatre makers who dream of having their voices heard. The story of Jon, a composer-librettist hoping to finally make it big on the cusp of his all-important 30th birthday, it was revised by playwright David Auburn from a solo show into a three-character musical after Larson’s untimely death in 1996. 

Oddly, as a person who as a teenager memorized every word of Rent, I had never before engaged with Tick…Tick…Boom! in any way, so Bowtie Productions’ staging at Alumnae Theatre was my first exposure to the text. While, like in Rent, some aspects of the show have aged better than others, its joyful music, heartfelt message and snappy lines show why Larson was a writer with a story worth telling. 

Speaking of stories worth telling, in its third season Bowtie is already a decorated indie company, and under Meredith Shedden‘s direction delivers impressive performances in a fun, fast-moving production that makes a strong argument for the importance of the indie theatre spirit in Toronto. 

Joshua Kilimnik’s Jonathan is acutely aware of the passage of time and his youthful promise, scored by the ticking clock in his head accompanied by the sound of distantly exploding artillery. He’s turning 30 next week, and it seems that everyone around him is moving on; childhood friend Michael (Misha Sharivker) has given up on acting for a soulless marketing job, a fancy apartment and a BMW with heated seats, and Jon’s girlfriend Susan (Diana Del Rosario) wants to pursue her dancing career and start a family in a place less famous for its oppressive grind.

Kilimnik plays Jon with an underdog charm that’s part boyish, part beleaguered. He’s neurotic but friendly, breaking the fourth wall to engage the audience and accompanying himself on his keyboard – but he doesn’t want to play his own “Happy Birthday,” thank you very much. 

He has an easy rapport with Sharivker as Michael, whose warmth and kindness peek through the marketing bro veneer, despite his extolling of the value of owning multiple designer belts. Kilimnik and Sharivker have a shared, fluid body language that comes out whether they’re doing a secret handshake or tossing each other moving boxes, which speaks to the longstanding friendship between their characters. 

Things between Jon and Susan are rockier, Del Rosario and Kilimnik playing up the couple’s jagged edges as they avoid an awkward conversation or get into an argument about whether it’s worth two subways and a bus to see each other (a discussion so painfully familiar to any New Yorker or Torontonian that it hurts).

Sharivker and Del Rosario also excel at playing a host of well-defined and funny minor characters, such as Jon’s goofy mensch of a father who wears a wonderfully elaborate and colourful 90s knit dad sweater, an ad exec who refuses to hear product name suggestions until they’ve fully brainstormed the overall vibe, or Jon’s fairweather agent. When one scene features some extra cast, it’s good fun but also a little disappointing; it might have been thoroughly entertaining to see the two stretch themselves even further as multiple characters in the same scene.

Shedden’s sharply paced choreography works very well in the space and with Quynh Diep’s production design anchors us in time, as the actors spin on a modular desk carrying a Mac Classic computer and literally get their wires crossed circling each other while tangling their phone cords. The set is covered with mimeograph-chic posters advertising Jon’s upcoming workshop production and an omnipresent clock working in real time to emphasize the time Jon feels is running out. 

The fingerprints of Larson’s mentor and idol, Stephen Sondheim (whom Kilimnik as Jon entertainingly refers to only in whispering reverence), are all over the show, whether overtly in a pitch-perfect parody of Sunday in the Park With George’s Act One closer, “Sunday,” this time set in a busy diner full of irritating patrons, or in the image of three young artists on a rooftop that’s a nod to Merrily We Roll Along. One can also hear the beginnings of musical phrases and stylistic ideas (like a refrain of parental phone calls) echoed and further developed in Rent. Yet the show is also very much its own unique creation, asking questions about what we consider to be a worthwhile, “real” life.

 Larson’s theme about the hazards of selling out, both here and in Rent, feel a little quaint in an age where even the ability to sell out is now the dream, when creative jobs of all kinds are disappearing and most are expected to have at least one full-time job in addition to two or three creative pursuits.  

The writing has also aged least well in the noticeable difference between the three main characters’ development; both men go on a clear journey and have their own songs, while John’s girlfriend is, for the most part, tellingly seen through his eyes, as he sings at her about how sexy her dress is or speculates as to what is making his “baby” sad without letting her get a lyric in edgewise. The other female character to whom Jon is attracted has one solo number, but it’s also in Jon’s words, explicitly written for his musical workshop. 

Jon’s reluctance to grant these women much agency would be an interesting tactic to show his self-absorption, except we’re clearly supposed to see things his way, he doesn’t learn from this, and it’s never addressed. With only three main characters, the imbalance is a bit disappointing, especially because Del Rosario is terrific, with a gorgeous belt and real sense of presence no matter which underdeveloped woman she’s playing.

Larson’s also still finding his feet with the aforementioned dress song and one about sugar, which feel like they snuck in from an earlier revue.

But in speaking to the terror of aging without achieving one’s full potential, Larson’s work has a timeless, appealing quality that will likely resonate with young artists for many years to come. When he digs into a generational sense of loss and increasing cynicism in the midst of the AIDS epidemic, it’s hard not to shed a tear. And in this zippy, passionate production bursting with talent, you can’t help but root for everyone involved.

Support your local indie theatre. Go see it before the time ticks away.