I felt a disorienting generational whiplash throughout the treacly rom-com Two Strangers (Carry a Cake Across New York). The latest British musical to make it through that country’s off-off ranks and onto our shores, it follows two 20-somethings during a whirlwind wedding weekend in present-day New York. And yet it fundamentally misunderstands Gen Z, is shot through with elder Millennial sensibility, and had a mostly older crowd wiping tears of laughter from their eyes. They seemed to thoroughly enjoy it, so congrats to all involved, but let me submit my dissenting opinion anyway.

The plot is simple – to the point of not meriting its two-act, nearly two-and-a-half hour runtime, but I digress: Dougal (Sam Tutty), a twenty-something going on twelve Brit arrives in town for his estranged father’s wedding, and there’s Robin (Christiani Pitts), his 26-year-old soon-to-be -aunt waiting for him at the airport. The overly zesty Dougal is overjoyed to be in the big city and doesn’t pick up on the fact Robin is not looking to be his tour guide. Of course, they wind up getting into all kinds of hijinks throughout the weekend, which takes them from picking up the titular dessert from Robin’s native Crown Heights onto every tourist trap in Manhattan and into some tricky familial situations. In its view of New York, creators Jim Barne and Kit Buchan are about as knowledgeable about the city as Dougal, an avowed movie buff and NYC-head who somehow thinks it holds the Golden Gate and White House.

There’s nothing inherently bad about the piece, which the two performers must carry entirely on their backs. Tutty, while saddled with maybe the most grating character in musical theater history, manages to project his mega-watt charm across the footlights. (He won the Olivier for the West End Dear Evan Hansen, and sounds not unlike Ben Platt.)

Pitts also more than acquits herself, keeping her deadpan takedowns impressively fresh, with charisma and vocal chops to spare. It’s to her credit that she brings alive yet another entry into the unfortunate subgenre of Black woman as wet blanket of wokeness. Throughout his adorkable inability to STFU, Robin corrects Dougal that it’s “Inuit” not “Eskimo,” calls him out on his dropping into a Blaccent, schools him on general etiquette, etc. Some of this is just the characters’ dynamics and backstories, of course, but it gets to a point… (Especially considering the casting across productions has maintained this color-consciousness.) Still, this is leagues better than the similar stereotype in Redwood, with which it actually shares a lot of corny musical DNA.

About the music. I appreciate a new musical striving for songs that could achieve crossover success  – can you believe there was ever an era when Broadway was the dominant pop form? – but the lyrics here border on the completely unrelated; a string of platitudes about romance or big nights out or crying to mum back home. There is also, if you can believe it, a number that reheats BuzzFeed-era jokes about whether classic Christmas songs are problematic. Musically, the score is overly sentimental and, steering aggressively away from showtunes’ perceived uncoolness, confuses lack of melodic throughline for a post-modern idea that every line must follow whatever impulse the character is feeling, even if mid-phrase.

Tim Jackson, on double duty as director and choreographer, guides the pair well through Soutra Gilmour’s efficient set: two scalable mountains of suitcases, some of which cleverly open up to reveal beds, mini bars and, most charmingly, a Chinese restaurant. Jack Knowles’ lighting is assaultive.

My heart is a generally open one, and I did not walk away from Two Strangers fuming about the state of modern musical theater. It has an agreeableness that will offend no one, and will surely charm many. But I should’ve known from its twee little title that this would not be for me, and I was unfortunately correct. You have to trust your gut, sometimes, whether with love or desserts. The results will come out eventually.

‍Two Strangers (Carry a Cake Across New York) is in performance at the Longacre Theatre on West 48th Street in New York City. For tickets and more information, visit here.

“You may want to run,” sighs Denise, gazing out from 1935 France and directly into your aching soul. “Or you may want to stay…forever…”

That melancholy ambivalence sits at the heart of Classic Stage Company’s moving revival of The Baker’s Wife, a mid-70s oddity here brought gorgeously to life by director Gordon Greenberg and a near-faultless cast and creative team. 

This peculiar little musical, with music and lyrics by a post-Godspell, pre-Wicked Stephen Schwartz and book by the late Joseph Stein, has a storied history. Plans for Broadway were abandoned following a chaotic 1976 tour. Decades of sporadic creative tinkering followed (not Chess-level chaos, but notable all the same). Meanwhile, Wife’s cult popularity continued to grow—thanks mostly to the audition standard “Meadowlark,” our heroine’s soaring ode to a dear departed bird.

Revisions can only do so much, as the wonderful strangeness of Baker’s Wife is baked into its central premise (no pun intended). Based on a 1936 film, the story centers on the kindly middle-aged baker Aimable Castagnet (Scott Bakula), who arrives in the tiny village of Concorde with young wife Geneviève (Ariana DeBose) in tow. But when Geneviève runs away with young hothead Dominique (Kevin William Paul) and a distraught Aimable stops baking, the hungry townspeople band together to bring Geneviève home. 

Schwartz’s score is a dreamy delight, and a committed DeBose invests each solo with tender, careful uncertainty. Certainly “Meadowlark” is the highlight, and she tears that one up. But quiet jewels fill the evening, all sounding superb despite the space’s acoustic challenges (music direction is by Charlie Alterman, orchestrations by David Cullen, and music coordination by John Miller). 

Greenberg’s smartest move is embracing the piece’s murky morality, rather than fighting against it. No judgment is cast towards Geneviève’s affair. The allure of Dominique’s is understandable, albeit (unsurprisingly) short-lived. Aimable is certainly a good man, but he is also frustratingly naive to the world’s realities. And the townsfolk are all, to a one, caught up in equally messy affairs of the heart. No-one here is pure; no-one is evil. 

(Perhaps with the exception of the callous Barnaby, as played by a viciously mean Manu Narayan. Barany’s put-upon wife, movingly portrayed by Sally Murphy, fairly judges that her situation is uncomplicated—sometimes, you just gotta get out.) 

If the bickering denizens of Concorde often behave unpleasantly, they are far from unpleasant company. Greenberg populates the town with an assemble of off-Broadway royalty, all of them having far too much fun. Nathan Lee Graham chews the scenery as the lascivious Marquis, pronouncing words in ways you never thought imaginable; Arnie Burton furrows his brow and wields a pointer with dandy strictness as the Teacher; and as our guide, Denise, the incomparable Judy Kuhn is on typically heartbreaking form.

DeBose and Bakula struggle when they are not singing, but that’s more of a book problem than anything else. Neither Geneviève nor Aimable ever take form as fully-fledged individuals. But it scarcely matters. Under Greenberg’s precise hand, and on a transporting set by Jason Sherwood, this Baker’s Wife takes flight as a musical meditation on regret, care and love. Was Geneviève right to run? Or should she stay, forever? No answer is offered. It’s a pleasure to just sit and wonder. 

The Baker’s Wife is now in performance at Classic Stage Company. For tickets and more information, visit here. 

Over a decade ago, composer and lyricist Kyle Fackrell wandered into a gallery in Breckenridge, Colorado and came across a stunning collection of landscape art. 

The paintings inspired Fackrell to begin work on The Art Tour, a two-person musical about a former couple heading out on a tour of the US to launch their art business. The story kicks off when newly unemployed Thomas, played by Michael Tacconi, flies to Colorado on a whim to reunite with frustrated painter Deb, played by Samantha Joy Pearlman. Realizing they are both adrift in life, the two impulsively decide to hit the road. 

Theatrely sat down with The Art Tour’s very lovely leads. Tacconi, fresh from the National Tour of Parade, has appeared on Broadway in Ivo Van Hove’s West Side Story and The Cher Show, and Pearlman originated roles in Chasing Rainbows at Paper Mill Playhouse and pop musical Bestie Island.

THEATRELY: How did you both get involved with The Art Tour?

SAMANTHA JOY PEARLMAN: I’ve been part of the show’s development for ten years. Kyle [Fackrell] reached out after I did a reading of another musical of his, saying he wanted to write this two-person show, and would I work with actors on it from the very beginning?

I almost wrote back to him, “Are you sure you’re emailing the right person?” Because I literally did stage directions in that reading. But Kyle is someone who trusts his gut. He just had this gut feeling that we would be really good collaborators, and he was right. So for ten years, Kyle has been coming over to my apartment to read through scenes. I’ll give him pages and pages of notes, and ideas, and possible rewrites. Still to this day, I will be like, “Can I say this instead?” I did that literally an hour ago. And he loves that.

MICHAEL TACCONI: Mine is just traditional theater life, I’m skirting in at the last second. I made a tape, probably in August. Then I went in and met everybody, and read with Sam. 

THEATRELY: Sam, how have you seen the show grow and change over the years? 

SAMANTHA: It was always about a road trip with a couple. There was a draft where they got married right at the beginning; there was a draft where she hit it big as a painter. A lot of songs on the cutting room floor. It came into focus when Kyle wrote “Worth It,” the final song, which leaves open the question of Deb’s success. Realizing her story is not actually about financial success was key. 

THEATRELY: When Thomas shows up, out of nowhere and proposes this road trip, what makes Deb say yes?

SAMANTHA: Obviously, Michael’s handsome face! 

No, I think she’s lost herself. She’s not living her life. Days are just going by, and her spirit is somewhere else. So when Thomas says, “Let’s go paint, let’s go have an adventure,” that’s why she says yes.

THEATRELY: When he’s fired from his job in New York, Thomas shows up at Deb’s door even after ghosting her years before. Michael, how do you approach his motivation for that?

MICHAEL: He needs to make a move, any move, so he gets on this plane. One person in his life made Thomas feel at peace, made him feel better about things. So he just goes towards that energy. And then his go-getter, success-driven nature kicks in once he sees her work, and sees there’s business possibilities there. 

But slowly throughout the show, whether it’s through failing in the career side or through being exposed to a slower, more art-filled life, he gets to release some of those notions about what success has to look like.

‍THEATRELY: Have you gone on long, life-changing road trips yourselves?

MICHAEL: I think a lot of people experienced that during the pandemic. My wife and I were back and forth across the country, east to west, north to south. With our industry being shut down, we wanted to  figure out — if acting jobs weren’t part of the equation, where would we want to live? Are we choosing New York, or are we just here? 

We lived out in New Orleans for a while. She’s from LA, so we lived out West. We really got to see the road, in our Subaru Outback, and had some of the more formative memories of our relationship so far in a car. I proposed to my wife in a car. So, road trips are built into what makes me, me, I would say.

SAMANTHA: Right after graduating from school, I helped my best friend move from Madison, Wisconsin to Los Angeles. He actually is the casting director on this project. And uh, yeah, our friendship almost ended on that trip. It was really horrible. It was a really bad trip. But. We have a pact that we’re going to do the trip again, now that we’re actual adults. Because it was a lot of me being like, “Oo let’s do this, let’s pull over” and Ross being like, “No,” and he’d just keep driving.

THEATRELY: Deb and Thomas find exactly that kind of appreciation for what’s right in front of them, over the course of their trip.

SAMANTHA: There’s a sense of childlike play they get to have on the road, in a way you don’t usually give yourself permission for as an adult. One of Thomas’ wonderful qualities is that he’s playful, and so Deb taps back into that childlike play. Deb opens herself back up to all feelings, as an artist and as a person, over this journey.

THEATRELY: And as she keeps growing, we get to hear all these different wonderful facets to your voice.

SAMANTHA: I love the score because I get to do so much with my instrument, I get to show a lot of different colors. I’ve been singing these songs for so long, so to think about how I sounded on them ten years ago and how I sound now is a fun little time capsule for myself. 

THEATRELY: And what Thomas discover on this journey? 

MICHAEL: When Thomas gets on the plane to go see Deb, he just knows he’s chasing a feeling of peace and serenity. And he ends up finding that in Deb’s love and practice of her art. We can all benefit from having more creativity in our lives.

THEATRELY: It mirrors the experience of being an actor, I’d think. If you make it all about financial success or fame, you’ll go crazy.

MICHAEL: It’s okay to have goalposts and dreams, but even when you hit those checkmarks, it’s just a blip in time. You tip over the other side of it, and then it’s done. What makes it a lifelong career is doing things that challenge you, that allow you to change, things that scare you. Like doing a fun two-person musical that’s just two people doing scenes and singing songs together, locking into the simplest and best things about acting.

THEATRELY: And perhaps that’s why we never really see Deb’s art, at least not in close detail.

MICHAEL: Our director Lindsey [Hope Pearlman] always said, the second you show it, the audience becomes the critic. When instead, the whole point is embracing the joy of doing art, not analyzing how good of a painter Deb is. You know, maybe she is mid…

SAM: Oh, thanks a lot!

MICHAEL: …and that’s okay!

SAM: She’s happy, that’s all that matters. That’s your headline: “She’s happy, she doesn’t know she’s mid.”

THE ART TOUR continues through November 22 at Theatre Row. Purchase tickets here.