The Boy in the Bathroom, the Girl at the Party.

NYMF kicked off yesterday, with its hundredth show Angle in the Sun, which I'm catching tonight. Instead of resting on the weekend, I saw Jim Daly as Luke in Altar Boyz, Dominic Nolfi as Tommy in Jersey Boys and Becky Gulsvig as Elle in Legally Blonde (thanks BroadwayUnderstudies.com!). It's just what I do.

I saw the premiere of The Boy in the Bathroom last night, offering my ushering services in exchange for a free seat. Nobody hands out a program like I do. The show offers no revelations or deep insights into OCD or the human condition (and its failure may be that it tries to) but it's endlessly charming and engaging enough for its hour and a half runtime. The strength seemed to lie in the book by Michael Lluberes and his glistening characters, but though the songs failed to pop, the show wouldn't have been nearly as magical as a straight play. As a musical, The Boy in the Bathroom could be stunning. I'm just not sure if this is that musical just yet.

Michael Zahler as the titular boy I think makes a bit of a mistake in drawing from his experience on the Spelling Bee tour as Leaf Coneybear - though lines like "Sometimes I think so hard my brain hurts" draw definite comparisons, the sense of innocence and naivete he gave to the character made half the audience gasp when the birthday cake saying "25" came out onto the stage. Sure, the kid's locked himself in a bathroom for over a year, he clearly doesn't have the maturity of most in their mid-twenties. But the character is written with depth that I think didn't quite make it into the portrayal. Still, there's no denying that a Leaf Coneybear character is endearing, and Zahler plays it with such good spirit you can't help but root for him.
The females of the show rise to the task of creating equally sympathetic yet rival characters in the love interest Julie and the mother. As the latter, Mary Stout has the hardest job, creating layers in a character that could so easily be one-dimensional and antagonistic. Ana Nogueira as Julie makes a fantastic NY debut, reminiscent of Billie Piper's Rose Tyler pre-TARDIS. I'm fully aware that you didn't get that reference. I apologize, and direct you to the first season of the new Doctor Who.

There's so much potential in the theme and placement of the songs, and with a few rewrites - that hopefully include some more powerful music and cutting the scene where David turns to the audience and explains OCD like it's side effects to one of those prescription drug ads - this show really has a good chance. Of course, it's about a boy who locked himself in the bathroom, it doesn't exactly scream commerical run. But I enjoyed it with only a few qualifications, and will definitely keep an eye on its future.

After the show, I kind of wanted to stick around and ask Mary Stout if she was actually hit by a hot dog cart (shout out to [title of show], I love you guys!!!) but I ran out to the NYMF opening party at Arena. Defying expectations by being more of a rave than a mingling event, the party was a hit that got me so drunk that I horribly embarrassed myself by telling the Altar Boyz I'd seen the show 15 times. You have to get me pretty darn drunk to make an admission like that. Other semilebrities (as I dub the people that only I and the other musical theater freaks consider celebrities) in attendance were Barrett Foa, Jordan Gelber, Kate Rockwell, Colin Hanlon and Joe Iconis, who I swear I'm not stalking. And they projected the press reels for the Last Starfighter onto the walls, meaning that they're edited and out there online somewhere but not available for your enjoyment. As soon as I find that link, you better believe I'm posting the shit out of it for you guys.