Lurid, torrid and unabashedly florid, Kokandy Productions’ “Jekyll & Hyde” is defined by bombastic, hair-tearing, chest-thumping emotions that make Greek tragedy look downright subtle.
Directed by Derek Van Barham, the 1990 musical (based on the 1886 novella by Robert Louis Stevenson) commits to the ultra-goth bodice-ripping monster mash with a passion to rival that of the egregiously misguided Dr. Henry Jekyll.
The story itself lacks a hero and its female characters have all the depth of blood spatter. But Kokandy’s pyrotechnic vocals, lavish 15-piece orchestra and garish, ghoulish spectacle make it worthwhile.
The major problems with “Jekyll & Hyde” are intractably baked into Stevenson’s novella. “Jekyll & Hyde” the musical does nothing to alleviate them. As in Stevenson’s original, the musical (conceived by Frank Wildhorn and Steve Cuden, with a score by Wildhorn and book and lyrics by Leslie Bricusse) centers on ostensible hero Dr. Henry Jekyll (David Moreland), a megalomaniac who believes with the blinkered fervor of a cultist that he’s created a chemical procedure that can excise the “evil” fighting for dominance in all humans.
His discovery, Dr. Jekyll insists, can make humankind 100% peaceful, compassionate and good, exorcised of any “evil.” As a bonus, the chemical compound will also solve mental illness. It all sounds a bit lobotomy-adjacent, and Jekyll is clearly enamored with playing god.
The plot is as simple as the chord structures in Wildhorn’s ultra-bombastic score: When the Board of Governors at Jekyll’s hospital forbid him from testing his potion on humans, the doctor uses himself as a test subject. But instead of turning into a 100% good person, Jekyll unleashes Edward Hyde (also Moreland), a bloodthirsty Patrick Bateman/bargain-basement Sweeney Todd-type hellbent on murdering everyone on the Board of Governors, for a start.
As Jekyll loses control and Hyde takes over, the two-dimensional women in Jekyll’s life are in peril. Scarlet-clad harlot-with-a-heart-of-gold Lucy Harris (Ava Lane Stovall) looks to Jekyll as her protector, only to have Hyde show up. Jekyll’s fiance Emma Carew (Emily McCormick), meanwhile, weeps because her beloved has not left his laboratory in days, and alarming noises are coming from within.
Jekyll’s first big moment comes with the massive soliloquy, “This is the Moment,” a multi-octave barn burner that hurtles from pianissimo to quadruple forte like a runaway freight train. Moreland nails it with the kind of ferocity that makes complete vocal rest between performances a stone-cold necessity. He’s just getting started. His finale — in which Jekyll and Hyde trade off verses — demands meteoric energy. Moreland delivers that and then some.
Music director Nick Sula has the vocal pyrotechnics on blast throughout. Stovall channels a mix of Pan, Sally Rand and Aphrodite in “Bring on the Men,” an electrifying burlesque romp. With “A New Life,” standing alone on a stage in a pool of light, Stovall flat-out stops the show. With “Once Upon a Dream,” McCormick releases a clarion soprano that could fill a cathedral.
“Jekyll” also benefits from Kevin Webb as Gabriel Utterson, Jekyll’s best friend and a dapper gent right down to his silver manicure. Webb embodies the role like he was born to swan about in a swallowtail jacket, one of several dapper gentlemen’s looks created by costume designer Rachel Sypniewski.
Van Barham makes “Jekyll and Hyde” look like a nightmarish wonderland. Syd Genco’s makeup design has the ensemble in cadaverous silver-grays, a choice that strengthens the murky menace that stalks the story. G. “Max” Maxin IV’s lighting bathes the stage in bloody reds and strobing whites, elevating the production into the most extra-genre of them all, Grand Guignol.
Brenda Didier’s choreography is prolific and diverse. At one point, the stage is filled with a crowd of waltzing ghosts; at another, the ensemble moves together like some kind of massive, mutant insect; at still others, the stage becomes a house of ill repute where the bump-and-grind is as celebratory as it is sexual.
“Jekyll & Hyde” could use a contemporary reboot. Kokandy makes it slay anyway, both literally and figuratively.