Kristen Beth Williams as Helen Sharp and Ken Marino as Ernest Menville in the North American Tour of Death Becomes Her. Photo by Matthew Murphy for MurphyMade
Like an airbrushed corpse dressed in her Sunday best, ready for an open-casket closeup, Death Becomes Her has been revitalized and reassembled into something new, something fresh… something unsettling.
Life’s a bitch and then you die… or not. There are fates far worse than death… like spending eternity locked in the ultimate catfight. That’s the basic premise of Death Becomes Her, the cult movie turned Tony-winning contemporary musical. The genius lies in taking that simple concept to its logical extreme.
The story began the first phase of its unnatural, accursed life in 1992. Featuring the talents of Meryl Streep, Goldie Hawn, and Isabella Rossellini (plus a somewhat miscast Bruce Willis), the original film was a box-office success, mainly praised for its cutting-edge special effects. If you haven’t seen it, it’s a spectacularly macabre act or cartoon violence—like Beetlejuice with a mix of brilliant practical effects and early CGI. The plot was a bit lacking, however; Streep and Hawn’s characters were essentially larger-than-life caricatures. The film leans on gender stereotypes till they break (like Streep’s neck in one particularly memorable scene). It’s mean, nasty, campy fun—no wonder it inspired such passionate devotion from gay men. (One of the new musical numbers, “For the Gaze,” is a meta-narrative about the story’s queer cult following, complete with a surprise appearance from every gay man’s “friend,” Dorothy herself.)
It begins with a flashback. Helen Sharp (Kristen Beth Williams), a mousy aspiring writer, is finally getting her life back on track. She’s made peace with her past and is starting to shake the hold of her longtime rival and tormentor, Madeline Ashton (Jackie Burns). Little does she know Madeline, a Broadway actress, has her own anxieties and insecurities. Her career is on a downturn, and most women in showbiz have a shorter shelf life than lukewarm yogurt. But she’s got one more scheme to put Helen in her place: she’ll steal her plastic surgeon fiancé, Ernest Menville (Ken Marino), and enjoy a 24/7 buffet of Botox and fillers for life.
Madeline’s less-than-subtle seduction works, and Ernest falls head over heels. But the romance doesn’t last long. Flash forward to the ’90s, and Madeline is a D-lister at best—she’d be lucky to have a guest appearance on a DVD menu. Helen’s star, meanwhile, is on the rise. She’s being feted in Hollywood for her debut novel, looking younger and hotter than ever. You’d never guess she spent all those years in a psych hospital ruminating over Madeline’s betrayal and plotting her revenge. With this sudden reversal of fortune, Madeline suddenly finds herself the butt of the joke… until she meets Viola Van Horn (Nasia Thomas), a mysterious socialite with a secret to die for.
The play starts out as a balls-out surreal pastiche of pop culture references and catty one-liners, eventually turning into a Tex Avery-esque pageant of hilarious horrors. At no point is it ever, ever boring. You get plenty of eye candy from the magnetic Van Horn and her immortal entourage, a dizzying number of R-rated zingers, and far more character development for the leads than in the original film. Jackie Burns amplifies Madeline’s frantic narcissism; Kristen Beth Williams makes Helen simultaneously vulnerable and terrifying; and Ken Marino channels Rick Moranis energy as poor, put-upon Ernest.
The songs slap, from the recurring motif “If You Want Perfection” to the self-aware closer “The End,” sung by two people whose story will never end (and therefore will never have any closure). The musical keeps the decadent black-and-purple palette of the original film while adding brilliantly inventive costuming. One great visual gag features Madeline reclining on a leopard-print couch in a full leopard-print suit—the effect is more chameleon than big cat. And of course, there are those grisly effects, now pulled off through dementedly clever costuming and sleight of hand. From shotgun wounds to decapitation, it’s an all-out fight to the death that never ends… and Madeline and Helen’s bodies keep the score.
Critics may have written the original film off as a campy, if creative, one-off… but just like Madeline and Helen, Death Becomes Her has had an unnaturally long life. Don’t let the peeling paint or putty fool you—it’s livelier and more beautiful than ever.
The show runs at the Fabulous Fox Theater through Sunday, October 25. Ticket prices range from $55 to $120. Performances take place every night except Thursday and Sunday at 7:30 PM, with matinees on Thursday and Sunday at 1:00 PM, and Saturday at 2:00 PM. Come early to order a signature cocktail (perfect for tossing in some stuck-up skank’s face) and pick up a commemorative “For the Gaze” fan. | Rob Von Nordheim
