REVIEW: The Bedwetter (Arena Stage)
If you're in the mood for pee-themed musicals on the east coast, it just might be your week.
There's Urinetown in New York right now, and now DC gets one too: The Bedwetter, an original musical based on bookwriter and comedienne Sarah Silverman's memoir of the same name. Joining her in the effort is Joshua Harmon's libretto, Adam Schlesinger's music (his last project before his untimely passing), and some extra musical contributions from David Yazbek. It’s Arena’s latest effort at a big-name production with lots of imported talent, with a presumptive eye on a return trip to the Big Apple (the show premiered at Atlantic Theatre Company in 2022).
Book/Music
The show takes its title from the affliction Sarah had as a child up through middle school. But the whole “bedwetting” thing is an aside to its real intentions: a darkly comedic coping mechanism for Sarah’s own troubled childhood, told as a deeply cynical retrospective. It begins as 1980’s Sarah, aged 10, has moved from Manchester, New Hampshire to the suburban town of Bedford following her parents’ divorce. A plucky introductory song sets the tone pretty well by implying Sarah’s trademark crassness has been a facet of hers since the beginning (in case you had doubts!) What follows is Sarah’s attempts at fitting in with her new classmates — initially going pretty well — while grappling with her own bedwetting and acrimonious family. Her father: a caring, but sleazy womanizer who can’t keep it in his pants; her mother: a clinically depressed, hyper-eloquent deadbeat who, Grandpa Joe-style, cannot leave the bed; her grandma: a vapid alcoholic; and her older sister: a… teenage girl. Sarah’s immediate laissez-faire attitude to the judgement of others is apparent in another one of the (many!) catchy songs, “I Couldn’t Agree More”, in which several would-be bullies are evaded by her willingness to accept who she is without compromise. I found her stance as someone with a will of steel, infallible in the belief in themselves to be the strongest element of this book. Additionally, it is all expectedly funny: both in joke quality (everyone assumes she’s from New York because she’s Jewish), and in physical comedy (the therapy chair for Small People). Conversely, I found it faltering in its handling of the darker components involving her parents. Despite the “deadbeat” label I placed on her mother, Beth Ann, four lines ago, she actually has rationale to be catatonically depressed, adamantly refusing to be there for her children. But this is approached unevenly. I’ll avoid spoiling, but the approach to resolving this depression hastily comes into focus in the last 20 minutes. The allusions to the origin of her state are peppered around beforehand but never left to linger before moving onto the next bit or musical number (there’s something to be said about the tendency of comedian-written media to avoid vulnerability, but that’s an essay for a different time.) In fact, the one character I would have expected to take a more dramatic turn late in the show only does so after a turnabout revelation, feeling….convenient, enough, to wrap the show up. Yet, despite some of the narrative teetering, I found the entire experience airy and welcoming: something new. The music is effective in its stylistic changes and storytelling, even if I found the lyricism shaky at times. The complete narrative package is great, but flawed: what better metaphor for being who you are? 8/10
Acting
What a turn from youngster Aria Kane as our titular bedwetter! Vocally attune and full of personality Kane takes over the potty humor with a wryness that translates to an older audience well. She’s but the anchor for a cast of well-performed roles, though, namely the uptight and traumatized Beth Ann, who is demandingly visualized by recent Tony-nominee Shoshana Bean. Two of the supporting roles stood out to me, too: first, the dual docs Dr. Grimm and Dr. Riley (Rick Crom) are hilariously inept and corrupt as two vectors of healing for Sarah’s bedwetting. Secondly: the effervescent idoltary of Ashley Blanchet’s Miss New Hampshire, appearing out of boxes and under desks with great timing just to be a model of what one can be from humble beginnings in Bedford. 8/10
Production
Director Anne Kauffman is mostly a straight play kind of person, so it was sort of surprising to me to see her tackle a musical piece like this. And while Bedwetter has visual hallmarks of her experiences with that medium, it’s able to cleverly disguise itself as a great musical venue. The angular set design from David Korins adds a breadth of dimension to an otherwise warm, but uninteresting, centerstage. And illuminating Korins’ hidden panels and cleverly-stowed furnishings are Japhy Weideman’s digitally rustic lighting. Coupled with the cocsise video work from Lucy MacKinnon, things like a TV being turned on subtly light up bedrooms and basements with an unsaturated aberration that impressed. 8/10
Viz
I’m sure lots of the people seeing this are familiar with Sarah as a comedian. To avoid any confusion, they’ve staged the whole thing as if this was a stand-up performance: open microphone onstage, a talent show allusion on the program, and a comedic name. It doesn’t exactly drive home the whole thing (which is probably good in this case), but it’s not nondescript. It works. 8/10
Verdict
Structurally, The Bedwetter has its issues — but much like its protagonist would tell you, who cares? What we have is a delightfully invigorated new musical that is sharp-tongued and superbly-acted, and that’s all we need. 32/40
