The adaptation of Gaiman’s Coraline to an off-Broadway musical format was another stop on our whirlwind of activity last weekend. I didn’t care for it, although I confess that doesn’t mean much. I don’t like theater as a general rule, especially not musicals. As both a musical and an adaptation of a story I liked very much in its original (book) version, and the show had two big strikes going against its chances to impress me before I stepped through the door.
It wasn’t all bad. They did some interesting things with sound, including an introduction played in disjoint notes on four or five toy pianos (which much have taken a lot of practice) and the opening, closing, locking, and unlocking of the door to the other house. They had a few funny jokes breaking the fourth wall, including the belle dame (or, strictly speaking, her hand) pausing just before she sings a song to narrate falling into the well to remind us that it does take an awfully long time to reach the bottom.
Mostly, though, my attention was taken up by how hard the musical would be to understand for anyone who had not read the book, or at least watched the movie adaptation. The production was very small, playing to about 200 seats, and employing only seven cast members. That meant that the cast doubled up on many roles, and not entirely in a natural fashion: the roles of Mrs. Spink and Mrs. Forcible, naturally enough, were played by the same actors who played the other Mrs. Spink and Mrs. Forcible, but those same actors also played Coraline’s mother and father, while two entirely different actors played the other mother and other father. The characters and their speech are quite distinctive, and I was never at a loss to distinguish one from the other…but I read the book, and quite closely, too. Someone coming in cold would likely be bewildered.
Bewildering, too, was the very brief attention paid to important plot points. The loss of the belle dame’s hand happens “off stage” in the book, the penalty for breaking an oath taken on her “good right hand,” before appearing for one last attempt to spoil a happy ending. The musical duplicates the movie’s decision to lop her hand off as she grasps after Coraline through a closing door, which is fine, but it happens so quickly, amid such a confusion of noise and flashing lights, that an audience not primed to watch for it is likely to miss it.
Knowing my prejudices, I can’t give Coraline a thumbs-down. I only warn potential audiences to read the book first, especially as it is a short read, aimed roughly at bright grade-schoolers, and very tightly written, masterfully turning out plot turns that consistently strike the sweet spot between predictability and non sequitur.
