Cory Bilicko:
Managing Editor
Emily Lopez stars as the title character in the Los Angeles premiere production of Carrie: The Musical, now playing at La Mirada Theatre for the Performing Arts.
Part of what is effective in this retelling of the Brian De Palma-directed 1976 film based on Stephen King’s novel is that the audience is complicit in the teasing of Carrie (Emily Lopez), the sweet high-school outcast whose classmates make fun of her relentlessly. Early on in the show, the four sets of “bleachers” on which audience members sit are suddenly moved closer together by unseen forces, creating an almost claustrophobic (and certainly unsettling) tight space in which the teens taunt the potentially telekinetic girl. Viewers are so close, they’re practically in on the action. It’s uncomfortable, and it’s a smart, artistic technical choice. One gets a real sense of what it’s like to witness such brutal treatment and do nothing to help, particularly in the locker-room scene in which, among a group of cruel classmates, a naked and completely vulnerable Carrie gets her first period but has no idea what is happening.
P.E. teacher Miss Gardner (Jenelle Lynn Randall) steps in, reprimanding the mean girls and comforting Carrie, surprised that the teenager is clueless about the feminine cycle. When Carrie returns home from school, the source of her ignorance becomes apparent; her Bible-beating mother Margaret (Misty Cotton) explains, with the song “And Eve Was Weak,” that menstruation is a “curse of blood,” rather than a natural bodily function.
Back at school, the popular Sue Snell (Kayla Parker), who’d been in on the teasing, has a change of heart and musters compassion for Carrie. She implores her boyfriend Tommy (Jon Robert Hall) to ask Carrie to the prom. He’s reluctant at first but eventually complies, appearing to see things the way his girlfriend does.
With the encouragement of Miss Gardner, Carrie eventually agrees to accompany Tommy to the big event, but she must first contend with her mom’s resistance. In the revealing “I Remember How Those Boys Could Dance,” Margaret attempts to present a cautionary tale to her daughter, relating how “those boys were demons of romance.” In a nuanced performance by Cotton, she gets visibly caught up in the memories though, and we get a glimpse into her possibly less-than-righteous past. She eventually regains her composure and forbids her daughter from attending.
The 17-year-old ain’t having it though. She defies her mother’s demands and prepares for the prom anyway.
Meanwhile, in a classic case of blame-shifting, meanie Chris (Valerie Rose Curiel) plots to enact revenge on the title character, since Miss Gardner has banned Chris from attending the big dance as punishment for bullying Carrie.
As the story progresses, Carrie builds self-esteem, empowering her to challenge her mother’s narrow beliefs, but also to foster her telekinetic abilities. She reads books on the subject and learns to harness the powers, ultimately unleashing them in the show’s finale.
This is not one of those shows that are up on the stage and you’re observing from afar; you’re right there in the thick of it. I even left the venue with two specks of fake blood on me. (It wiped right off.) The singing, which is top-notch across the board, is amplified through the theatre’s sound system, but you’re in such close proximity to the cast that their voices are within earshot. (No lip-syncing in this production.)
Whereas Sissy Spacek, in the first cinematic version of the book, is quirky and awkward (and it well served that movie’s creepiness), Lopez in this staging is more relatable, illustrating that anyone can be victimized by bullies. She comes across as just a “normal” gal who’s the unfortunate offspring of a religious fanatic. Speaking of, Cotton as Margaret is also more down-to-earth than Piper Laurie in the De Palma flick. Laurie was harrowing in that movie, and her compelling performance earned her a Best Supporting Actress Oscar nomination. (Spacek was nominated for Best Actress.) The low-key approach that both Lopez and Cotton take works because, as audience members, we’re merely feet away from them. There’s no unnecessary grandstanding. The over-the-top emoting is preserved for just the right moments, and a few of those include some pretty spectacular effects, particularly actors attached to wires that elevate them three stories high. An especially haunting image is that of Jesus Christ on the crucifix. It’s a mastery of set-building, lighting and rigging.
However, technical and performance achievements aside, the heart of Carrie: The Musical lies in the lyrics of its epilogue: “For years you look at someone passing by, and then one day you finally see her.”
Carrie: The Musical will continue at the La Mirada Theatre for the Performing Arts, 14900 La Mirada Blvd., through Sunday, April 5. For showtimes, visit lamiradatheatre.com . Tickets are priced from $40 to $70 and can be purchased on the theatre’s website. For more information, call (562) 944-9801.
