Review: ANNIE at Broadway at the National

When I was in fifth grade, the third grade classes at my school put on an adaptation of "Annie," which featured my younger brother's first-and to date, only-venture into musical theatre, as "Street Thug One." He had a single line, "Let's tie some tin cans on this old mutt," before being dropkicked by Annie herself, but he delivered it with chilling conviction.

Apart from that, I hadn't seen and didn't really know this musical, except a basic idea of the plot and the two songs that everyone knows, so I likely came into the Broadway at the National production with fresher eyes than most in the audience.

In New York City in winter of 1933, Annie (Rainier Trevino) lives in a dilapidated orphanage with her fellow unfortunates in the unsympathetic care of Miss Hannigan (Stefanie Londino.) Annie was abandoned at the orphanage as an infant by her parents, who left with her half a silver heart locket and a note promising to return someday. After an abortive attempt to escape and find them, in which she manages to befriend several residents of an under-bridge Hooverville and a stray dog she names Sandy, she is arrested and returned.

Shortly thereafter, she is invited by Grace Farrell (Julia Nicole Hunter) assistant to billionnaire tycoon Oliver Warbucks (Christopher Swan) to stay at the latter's palatial mansion for the Christmas holiday. Annie has nothing in the world but her compassion and stubborn optimism; Warbucks has everything in the world but someone who loves him. They form a bond as they search for Annie's long-absent birth parents and fend off the sinister intentions of Hannigan's brother Rooster (Jeffrey T. Kelly) and his partner Lily St. Regis ("Like the hotel!") who seek to claim the reward money.

Trevino brings a winning and infectious enthusiasm to the titular role. It's easy to imagine the nation falling in love with her. The child performers, on the whole, perform with remarkable rythym and clarity. Swan believably shows Warbucks' change of heart, and Londino impressively manages to imbue Hannigan with a spark of humanity. She's the villian, yes, but not a carboard caricature. She's an average woman whose compassion and patience have been worn down by years at her thankless job, as she expresses in her solo number, "Little Girls." One must also mention the dog, Seamus, who ably portrays Sandy. 

Director Jenn Thompson and choreographer Patricia Wilcox draw vibrant, kinetic performances from their enemble. Wilson Chin's scenic design  and Alejo Vietti's costumes bring the bygone era to life. 

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