Leo Tolstoy's unforgettable novels have been praised since they were published in the 19th century. I admit it: I've read them twice, but I've always found War and Peace to be a tiring read.
The bold introduction to Dave Malloy's musical adaptation of War and Peace, “Natasha, Pierre, and the Great Comet of 1812,” sums up the book's challenges in a clear poetic stanza:
“You'll have to study a little/ If you want to keep up with the plot/ Because it's a complicated Russian novel/ Everyone has nine different names/ So look it up in your program/ We appreciate it/ Thank you very much.”
However, there's no need to study (or look up) to keep up with the sheer mass of humans filling the stage in Writers Theatre's magnificent production of Malloy's Tony Award-winning musical.
Natasha, Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812
Under the direction and design of Katie Spellman, and with the score by Matt Deitchman, The Great Comet is a triumph. Sung in the style of an opera, the score feels like it is driven by a pulsating, radiant heartbeat that pulsates through the space of the book until everyone in the audience pulsates in unison.
Malloy's diverse musical oeuvre spans a range of musical styles from the (barely controlled) chaos of Russian drinking songs to soulful ballads that conjure up the endless moral questions that have troubled the human race since its inception: Why are we here? Who do we really love? What if we're wasting our lives on things that don't matter?
In Malloy's music and lyrics, the people in “War and Peace” are as funny, distinctive, meaningful, and alive as immediate family. Spellman has made the production captivating with a cinematic, emotional, moral, and historical weight that evokes “Les Misérables,” along with a broad, self-aware humor that swings from camp to sublime, sometimes in the same passage.
The Comet doesn't cover all of War and Peace; Malloy adapted the musical for 70 pages in Part 8. The Moscow-set part deals with the disastrous seduction and devastation of Natasha, a naive and highly protected young aristocrat who believes that if a man kisses her, he loves her. She also has a crush on Andrei, a soldier fighting in the Napoleonic Wars.
The play revolves around the married predatory nobleman Anatole and his greedy, nauseating attempts to kidnap Natasha. But while Natasha’s ill-fated relationship with Anatole drives the action, it is Pierre—a highly cultured philosopher haunted by memories of a better past and besieged by a present defined by self-loathing and a loveless marriage—who provides the musical’s centerpiece and moral center. His evolving relationship with Natasha illuminates his journey from defeated bitterness to full-on embrace of life and provides a deeply satisfying arc for the narrative.
Natasha (Aurora Pennebaker) is relentlessly pursued by the evil Anatole (Joseph Anthony Bird) in Writers Theatre's “Natasha, Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812.”
In the pivotal role of Pierre, Evan Tyrone Martin delivers a tremendous performance. His soaring monologues grapple with the most disturbing issues—the existential to the mundane—with undeniable power, and his voice glides from flashes of powerful rhythms to thunderous trebles, from pain to ecstasy, with equal and moving effect. Overall, Pierre’s final scene with Natasha offers a spark of compassion and hope in a world where everything has become bleak.
Aurora Pennebaker's Natasha is one of those rare naïve performers with layers and depth. In her brilliant performance, Natasha is both innocent and charming, a young woman who is both terrified and empowered by the discovery of her sexuality.
Meanwhile, the swaggering wolfish Anatole, played by Joseph Anthony Beard, devours the stage in the best possible way with a fiery, dragon-like gluttony, creating a villain you'll love to hate at the same time.
The supporting cast is unforgettable. As Natasha’s haughty godmother Mary, Bethany Thomas is the wise, cool, well-connected aunt every young woman needs. As Anatole’s scheming sister Helen, Bree Sodiya exudes an ever-present elitist disdain that defies anyone to call her a “bitch”—as she’s described in that colorful introduction—to her face. The priceless Matthew C. Yee makes Natasha’s war-scarred fiancé, Andrei, a tragic embodiment of grief and disillusionment. As the troika driver Balaga, Jonah D. Winston turns the stage into a wild party that feels fueled by vodka and irrepressible glee.
Throughout the show, a chamber orchestra sitting above the stage keeps the music flowing smoothly. Courtney O’Neill’s intimate, carefully detailed set depicts the grand staircases and lavish ballrooms of Moscow during the reign of Emperor Alexander I. Raquel Adorno’s stylized costumes add detail and intensity to each character, from Natasha’s flowing white dresses to Pierre’s majestic purple royal coat.
Nothing is lost in translation among the Tolstoys in The Book Theatre. They capture Tolstoy’s genius, and all the shades of human emotion that lurk within him. And when the group looks up at the comet of the play’s title (which erupted in 1811, but was so bright that people claim it was still visible in 1812), the wonder reflected in Pierre’s eyes will take your breath away.
