David Fincher’s The Curious Case of Benjamin Button from 2008 is one of my favorite films of all time, a beautiful way to underline making the most of precious life you are given. Though I’ve never read the original short story by F. Scott Fitzgerald, my attachment to the material was tangible, especially given the potency of its messaging and the inherent tenderness underneath. That said, the mere idea of presenting Benjamin Button as a musical left me curious how it would be brought to the stage. Filtering it through the lens of a mostly-sung fable still manages to occasionally capture the poignancy of the source material. Despite a clashing of tones and questionable ways to convey the aging of its central character, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button almost pulls off a folk-infused take on a timeless tale.
With all that being said: this version is extremely different from the film, to the point that the only even remotely similar elements are the ending and the butterfly effect aspect. More on that later. For starters, the set here is gorgeous, presenting a Cornish harbor village in all its splendor. There’s a massive hanging net, docks, and plenty of hidden trapdoors. The stage itself is immersive, with top tier lighting design by Zoe Spurr. Likewise, the costume design from Anna Kelsey establishes a dirty, aged look perfect for the 1900s setting. As far as the technical production elements, Benjamin Button is top tier.
Presentation wise, it certainly takes some time getting used to the flow of its oddities. The whole show is narrated in a shouty kind of way, methodically laying out character inner thoughts and, painstakingly, the exact time and date of nearly every event, often down to the minute. It can be a little too exhaustive, sapping energy from an overly serious sequence or a jab of humor. The instruments and performances are what carry this narration though—there’s a rousing energy to the ensemble, most often acting as a unit to gather around important moments. At others, the players bleat as a sheep or act as gender-swapped locals. The fluidity of choreography impresses, as they alternate between wearing plenty of different acting hats while seamlessly slipping into playing flutes, trumpets, violins, tambourines, and many more.
The focal point though is Benjamin himself, and the utterly bizarre life story that develops. In a drastic change from the movie, Benjamin is born as a fully alive old man, complete with wisdom, a pipe, and a bowler cap. As Benjamin asks his mother if she has tried any brandy for her exhaustive state, I found the tone a little confusing. Tongue in cheek moments such as this one are sprinkled throughout the show; this can add a nearly nonsensical juxtaposition between tearjerking tragedy and campy humor. A romance soon develops between a cute barkeep and a curious Benjamin as he ages down into his 50s. Their chemistry didn’t quite click until much later.
Still, the show finds its footing—and a careful balance between comedy and sadness—much more delicately in act II. At least twice in the show, a butterfly effect leading to a momentous and often horrific occurrence builds musically to a satisfying crescendo. That aforementioned romance justifies its existence then, particularly by way of an astounding, utterly devastating performance from Kelsee Kimmel as Benjamin’s love interest, Elowen. Driven apart by time and circumstance, their romance doesn’t feel quite as epic as the dancing ambition of their movie counterparts. Still, Kimmel and the dynamic Andrew Durand are exceptional. Durand comes off charming and sweet as he ages forward. While not expecting a detailed prosthetic or even makeup, the only thing that ages this Benjamin backward are slight wardrobe changes and the removal of a cane. Otherwise, he really doesn’t appear to be convincingly aging backward. Judging by the show’s interpretation of action sequences though, this purposeful choice is just an alternate quality rather than a detriment.
The imagination and heart poured into the book and lyrics from director Jethro Compton and co-writer Darren Clark can be felt in every isolated moment. They build out a solid backbone of interesting characters so that when the massive moments do hit, they hit hard. Recounting a sand castle or a seemingly innocuous joke mixing up familiar sayings both come back to tug at the heartstrings. The songs are thorough and detailed. While I can see many people connecting with it on a deeper level, this particular style of music is not my personal taste.
As the musical approaches its climax, there were many sniffles heard throughout the theatre. Certainly, this story can hit on a deeply emotional level for those who have ever lost a loved one, or have experienced grief in its many forms. There’s a deeply human element to Benjamin Button that the play is able to distill in an entirely different manner than the movie before it. For that reason alone, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button deserves to be seen not just as a fleeting curiosity. Instead, the musical should be recognized for the way it alchemizes life and time into a congruous, unending ebb, such as the flow of the waves in the ocean. Even if the music is not entirely my cup of brandy, the production impresses from a technical standpoint. Perhaps its relevancy will only ripen with age just like Benjamin himself.
Unearth the secrets behind The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, now unspooling its story at The Public Theater. For ticketing information, please head over to the official website.
