In 1982, a truck driver named Larry Walters attached dozens of weather balloons to an aluminum lawn chair and floated up to 16,000 feet above Southern California. He was spotted by a couple of airplanes before descending and landing safely, although he did take out a neighborhood’s electricity for a little while.
He got his 15-minutes of fame — including an appearance on “Late Night with David Letterman” — and became known, memorably, as “Lawn Chair Larry.” There was unquestionably something about the dream-driven DIY-ness of his flight that captured the imaginations of storytellers. It inspired the Disney film “Up” — in which a cantankerous old man seeks to fulfill a promise to his wife — as well as a small Australian movie called “Deckchair Danny.”
In 2009, Steppenwolf produced a play by Bridget Carpenter, also called “Up,” which took most of its inspiration from the emotional aftermath of the flight and fleeting fame, which didn’t lead to happiness for Larry, who — spoiler alert! — committed suicide a decade after his balloon-buoyed ascension.
Now there’s a sweet, energetic, ’80s-infused musical comedy, called “42 Balloons,” which started in the UK and is now making its U.S. debut at Chicago Shakespeare with heavy-hitting commercial producers attached.
Determinedly upbeat, even when the story gets darker, the show has plenty of charm and truly charismatic performances from its leads, who include Charlie McCullagh as nerdily obsessive Larry, Evelyn Hoskins as his initially reluctant but ultimately super-supportive girlfriend Carol, Broadway veteran Lisa Howard as Carol’s gently caustic mother, and Akron Watson as Ron, an old friend of Larry’s who filmed the takeoff.
The musical is nearly all sung-through, and first-time composer-librettist Jack Godfrey delivers a catchy, synth-pop score reminiscent of ’80s bands like Duran Duran and Pet Shop Boys, with occasional infusions of early hip-hop a la Run-D.M.C.
A diverse ensemble chorus, dressed in period-inspired jumpsuits and hairstyles, narrates in song while they dance to the beat. The constant, large-scale projections that dominate the visual background scream out ultra-early MTV.
All this means that “42 Balloons” has a lot of retro style, the type that blends nostalgic fondness with a whole lot of self-conscious winking. Even the leads’ lyrics are often written in third person, creating a bit of emotional remove in the style of a documentary.
There is nothing that isn’t likable about “42 Balloons.” It’s got a great heart, showing Larry lots of love and a surplus of sympathy, treating him as a heroic inspiration and not a cautionary tale. Carol, Carol’s mother and Ron are all celebrated as his “ground crew,” the people who toss aside conventional expectations to stand with the guy chasing an oddball dream.
Dreams are unambiguously good, the show tells us, frequently. People should pursue them against all odds. Others should help them, even when they think it’s weird. Even if the dream doesn’t work out for the dreamer, it inspires others.
It’s a pleasant message, if an awfully familiar one. And no matter how sincerely warm-hearted it is, “42 Balloons” also feels one-dimensional, and not just thematically.
The show sure has got a beat, but really just one that repeats for the entirety. The choreography, from Alexzandra Sarmiento, is fun, but it feels more frenetic than expressive, injecting brief homages to breakdancing or the robot without ever showing us a convincing, impressive version of those styles.
The music this show borrows from certainly was ultra-energetic, as here, but the electronic tones could often be filled with an other-worldly off-ness. Think of a song like the Eurythmics’ “Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This),” which was catchy and upbeat, sure, but also strange and strangely alluring in a way Godfrey doesn’t reach for.
This means that the show has a generic quality, going for the expected, universal lyric or movement or emotion, rather than the specific. It has a clear point of view but no edge, no sense of weirdness when the whole point of Larry’s story is that, even if he didn’t see it that way, he dared to be weird.
And although the flight, which lifts off in the last scene of Act I, comes across clearly if a bit clinically, it isn’t especially theatrical or visually daring. If there’s a clear means of improving the show, it would be a new number that makes Larry’s flight last and takes us up there with him more effectively, more emotionally, with an adrenaline rush that explains how life afterwards could never compete.
“42 Balloons” floats on the air of its positive vibe. And you root for these characters.
But hopefully, over time, the show’s highs can get higher and its depths can get deeper.