Did Critics Sink Their Teeth into B'way's Dracula?
Here is a sampling of what they had to say:
Eric Grode in his Broadway.com Review: "Yes, this $7.5 million penny dreadful is a dopey potboiler with a ridiculous ending and an ill-suited leading lady. But it's also marginally cool to look at, thanks to some striking sets by Heidi Ettinger, and features two or three of Wildhorn's more affecting tunes. That's not nearly enough to recommend Dracula, but rubberneckers in search of the next Carrie will have to keep looking… The chemistry between Hewitt and Errico, while tepid, easily trumps that between Errico and her composer. Wildhorn specializes in roof-raising mega-ballads; Errico's dulcet soprano is best suited to songs that emphasize melodic dexterity over vocal firepower. Watching her attempt to do right by barnburners like 'If I Could Fly' is like watching a boy soprano tackle Parsifal. And with the exception of O'Hara's doomed Lucy and a game Don Stephenson as Renfield, the supporting cast is surprisingly weak."
Ben Brantley of The New York Times: "Dracula, the Musical, which features a book and lyrics by Don Black and Christopher Hampton and is directed by Des McAnuff The Who's Tommy, isn't simply bad, which is an aesthetic state of being that is kind of fun if you're in the right mood. Gee, remember the ripely terrible Dance of the Vampires? It is bad and boring… Because none of the characters seem remotely real or even comprehensible, you don't have to worry about feeling bad when they are killed off. There is, however, one person onstage with whom you may identify. That's Arthur Holmwood Chris Hoch, the husband of the doomed, sweet Lucy Ms. O'Hara. Arthur's most pronounced personality trait, an early song explains, is being boring. He is first seen dozing happily in an armchair. There is, after all, nothing going on around him that would keep him awake."
Frank Scheck of The New York Post: "As he did in Jekyll & Hyde and The Scarlet Pimpernel, Wildhorn plunders great works of pulp fiction in the public domain like some sort of literary grave robber. Played in deadly serious fashion, Dracula is dreadfully bad, but falls short of the awfulness that would lift it to the level of fun camp. As with Wildhorn's previous efforts, it features a bland, wall-to-wall musical score, presented in blaring, synthesizer-heavy orchestrations. The show sinks a lot of talent… The charismatic Tom Hewitt, so wonderful in The Rocky Horror Show, is uncharacteristically colorless as the Count, while the lovely Melissa Errico, who bares her breasts evenings as Mina sorry, kids--no skin at the matinees, endures a lot more than a few bites."
Howard Kissel of The New York Daily News: "If there's any reason for the umpteenth version of Bram Stoker's Dracula, it might be that someone had figured out a new way to make it scary. Unfortunately, there was only one moment in the Frank Wildhorn musical that opened last night at the Belasco when I experienced true terror: In the middle of the second act, I was gripped by a numbing fear that the show would never end. This retelling flails about aimlessly. Even if it had found a vein to tap, this sucker has no fangs… Most disappointing is the book by Hampton, one of the most intelligent of contemporary English playwrights. He seems to have seen his task as merely providing filler between the musical numbers, since the plot has no logic of its own."
Charles Isherwood of Variety: "With the aimlessly churning pop music of Frank Wildhorn underscoring Don Black's typically banal lyrics and lumbering book, the musical plods doggedly through the creaky tale of ancient evil despoiling Victorian innocence… It's hard to muster the energy for even a sidelong snicker at Dracula, which soberly eschews any temptations to campy indulgence and insists, in vain, on the dramatic viability of its hoariest cliches… Raising neither smiles nor shudders, this turgid retread of Stoker's sanguinary tale of sin, sex and salvation merely gives rise to the dire reflection that eternal damnation seems a benign fate when measured against the prospect of a lifetime of Frank Wildhorn musicals."
Michael Kuchwara of The Associated Press: "Talk about draining blood from the undead. Dracula, The Musical is an anemic, inert attempt to make the world's most famous vampire sing. And what takes place on stage at Broadway's Belasco Theatre is enough to send the poor guy flying back to Transylvania, bat wings flapping. For all its attempts at purple passion including brief glimpses of female nudity, spiffy special effects and bloody violence, what the production offers is sedate and sexless, an unconvincing melodrama laced with dreary songs that stop rather than jump-start the plot."
Elysa Gardner of USA Today: "The latest installment in that long-running Broadway saga, When Bad Shows Happen to Good Performers, has arrived. And this time, the cast of characters is particularly rich. It's tough to decide which of the tragic heroes and heroines in Dracula merits the most sympathy. Might it be dashing leading man Tom Hewitt? Or Melissa Errico, whose delicate beauty and earthy soprano have allowed her to remain one of musical theater's most soulful ingénues for more than a decade? Or perhaps it's veteran character actor Stephen McKinley Henderson, whose indelible work has enhanced the plays of August Wilson and other great writers? One hopes that these troupers are at least being well compensated for their participation in Frank Wildhorn's latest overstuffed turkey… Hewitt sounds authentically exotic or he handles his cartoonish dialogue like a good sport. Errico looks and sounds lovely, as does Kelli O'Hara, playing another doomed damsel. I can't imagine how they all got sucked into this mess, but I hope they're rescued from the walking, singing death that is Dracula as soon as possible."
Linda Winer of Newsday: "Instead of pushing Wildhorn's gifts into more than diverting shlock, alas, the creative team appears to have rolled into the cheese ball with him. For all the potential, Dracula betrays our most basic expectations for vampire seduction. The show isn't even good junk. Hewitt plays Dracula with all the blood-lust appeal of a park statue, even when he transforms into what appears to be a giant papier-mâché bat. Errico--who has been known to be cold, but never before dull--seems about as fascinated with the proceedings as we are. She looks terrific, with her period cameo face, but too few of the songs use the glittery top of her voice. She is too tasteful to do the pop belting and these songs insist on it… Wildhorn has written some beautiful choral harmonies. He is not helped, however, by such lyrics as 'I always know what he's thinking/I always know when he's drinking,' or 'We don't have to go down that road/We don't have to shoulder that great load.' At the climax, such as it is, Dracula and Mina sing their conviction that 'There's always a tomorrow/There's always one more night.' Not on Broadway, not always."