An American Triumph in Spring Awakening

Those lamenting the death of the American musical need look no further than Spring Awakening for proof of its survival.

Based on the late-19th-century German play of the same name by Frank Wedekind, Broadway's Spring Awakening is a clever reinterpretation where adolescent angst sublimates into modern, pop-rock songs by librettist and lyricist Steven Sater and composer Duncan Sheik. Best known for his self-titled album and subsequent work outside of the musical theater sphere, Sheik brings an awareness of contemporary culture often missing from the Broadway stage.

Sater and Sheik present Wedekind's story in its own period-the boys wear woolen suit jackets and short pants; the girls wear knee-length dresses and hair in plaits-but for today's audience. Reciting Latin with his class, Melchior (Jonathan Groff) pulls a wireless microphone out of his jacket and starts to sing "All That's Known" with an appealingly whiny, pop inflection. Groff holds the mic close to his mouth and spits with fiery intensity-it's like an MTV meteor has fallen on stage, but rather than destruction, the result is a brand-new, hybrid form. It is in keeping with the tradition of pre-Sondheim, pre-rock 'n' roll musical theater, when Broadway was the go-to spot for new music. Spring Awakening creates songs that appeal to the masses; it does not appropriate pre-existing sounds (like Hair) or give up on popular appeal altogether (like anything by Michael John LaChiusa).

The other actors grasp the same timeless adolescent qualities, though Groff seems really to be acting-his final scene brings subtle nuance to what could be a one-dimensional character. As the equally whiny, equally appealing Moritz, John Gallagher Jr. (last season's Rabbit Hole) sports an electrified hairdo, sneakers, and socks that keep falling down. His opening number, "The Bitch of Living," is one of the show's best-spirited, intense, and ingeniously choreographed.

Directed by stage veteran Michael Mayer (Thoroughly Modern Millie, Side Man), choreographed by Bill T. Jones, and designed by Christine Jones, the onstage action is clever and engaging. Steps ascend from the audience onto the stage and audience seating extends to the back, nearly creating a theater in the round. Backup singers and characters intermingle with the audience in the seats onstage, breaking the fourth wall and muting some of the show's "staginess." Old portraits inter-mingle with fluorescent lighting along the back, brick walls of the stage, and the small, accompanying rock band sits in the back center, framed by doors through which characters enter and exit. Jones's choreography is especially interesting-jerky, odd, and uncomfortable in angsty songs like "Totally Fucked," and fluid and graceful in songs like the Act One finale "I Believe." It echoes the volatile adolescent emotions of the characters; they can be graceful adults in one scene, and awkward children in another. The choreography also does some heavy symbolic lifting, as when the two prototypical adult characters (Christine Easterbrook and Stephen Spinella) join in on the dance in "Totally Fucked," letting us know this is a feeling that won't pass with adolescence.

Though Spring Awakening boasts moments of brilliance, it also has some deep flaws. In what seems to be an attempt at self-aware and dark humor, Sater's book can feel a bit clunky. A lot of dramatic action takes place, but if the audience lets the characters stay at arm's length, the story can lose some of its impact. Sheik's soulful music does much to alleviate this, but the finale still feels a bit limp.

A relatively weak finale can only mean an otherwise strong show. Spring Awakening picks up where Jonathan Larson (Rent) left off over 10 years ago by moving forward with the union of pop and Broadway, looking backward only for story and not for nostalgia.