Seen on: Wednesday, 3/18/26.
| Adam Jacobs as Edmund and Sierra Boggess as Mercedes. Photo by Shawn Salley. |
Plot and Background
The York Theatre presents the world premiere of Peter Kellogg and Stephen Weiner's new musical adaptation of the classic Alexandre Dumas novel The Count of Monte Cristo. Edmund, an honest sailor, is framed for treason on the eve of his wedding, and sent to prison for eighteen years. His fiancée Mercedes, believing him dead, marries his rival Fernand to cover her pregnancy. While in prison, Edmund is educated by fellow prisoner Abbe in languages, arts, and swordcraft, as well as the location of a hidden fortune; when he escapes, he uncovers the treasure on Monte Cristo, then uses his newfound wealth and knowledge to build his new persona as the mysterious titular count, and wreak revenge on the three men who wronged him.Thoughts:
That doesn't mean they're not trying. Stephen Weiner's score aspires toward the lushness of a tortured romance, but struggles to balance that against the more traditional sidekick character numbers, which indulge in an earthier old-fashioned musical comedy style. I think that tension might be the real struggle within the show at the moment: whether or not this is an old-fashioned musical comedy with a soupçon of camp, or a sweeping and ballad-full romantic musical drama, a la other pop musical writers like Webber and Wildhorn (incidentally, Wildhorn has also penned an adaptation of the novel, though it's played more internationally than domestically). If you go in expecting the latter, you'll be disappointed; however, if you go in open to the comic stylings, particularly of Danny Rutigliano, doing double duty as both Edmund's mentor (Abbe) and sidekick (Caderousse) and making a meal out of both, you might fare better. This is especially evident in Kellogg's lyrics. In the more romantic numbers, his lyrics tend toward a looser pop sensibility of songs that could be easily removed from context and played elsewhere; however, for the more comedic numbers, the lyrics must be specific to be funny, and are thus much more grounded in the circumstances of character and moment.