There are musicals that transcend cynicism, using the power of song and dance to make us believe, at least for two or three hours, that good intentions and perseverance can make dreams come true. Then there are shows like “JOY,” feel-good trifles that blithely defy our ability to suspend disbelief — even when they draw, as this one does, on real-life events.
Billed as “a new true musical,” “JOY,” now having its off-Broadway premiere, was inspired by the life and writing of Joy Mangano, the Long Island-bred inventor, entrepreneur, and single mother whose can-do spirit made her a multimillionaire and a star of the home-shopping networks QVC and HSN in the 1990s and early aughts. Ms. Mangano’s Cinderella story previously inspired a 2015 film, also called “Joy,” starring Jennifer Lawrence.
In this stage production, the title role is played by Betsy Wolfe, a wholesomely pretty actress and singer who has played other gutsy, funny women in Broadway productions of “Waitress,” “Falsettos,” “The Mystery of Edwin Drood,” and other musicals. Ms. Wolfe’s first challenge here is in capturing Ms. Mangano’s carefully suppressed native accent; at a recent preview, the performer seemed to slide in and out of Lawng Oyland-ese, sometimes jarringly so.
The book and songs that Ken Davenport, a veteran Broadway producer, and Annmarie Milazzo have respectively crafted for “JOY” — based on Ms. Mangano’s memoir/self-help guide, “Inventing Joy: Dare to Build a Brave & Creative Life” — present Ms. Wolfe and her castmates, and director Lorin Latarro, with other tricky tasks. The protagonist, like those in other musical hagiographies, is virtually flawless: brilliant, determined, and self-sacrificing, which only makes the flaws of everyone surrounding her more glaring.
There’s Joy’s mom, Toots, a freeloader who sits on her daughter’s couch all day, reminding her of every mistake she’s ever made and telling her that she’ll never amount to anything. There’s Joy’s dad, Rudy, who wasn’t around during her formative years but is introduced asking her for money so that he can impress his new girlfriend, Lorraine — a happily widowed former classmate of Joy’s who is well-endowed in every sense but, in spite of her relative youth and wealth, wants to hang out with this geezer.
Joy’s ex-husband, Tony, is a failed singer who lives in her basement, still chasing his own dreams while Joy, who has just lost her thankless job with an airline, toils to create her own ticket to success: the “Miracle Mop,” a plastic cleaning device that was Ms. Mangano’s breakthrough invention.
The real villain of “JOY,” though, is one Edward “Cowboy Eddie” Arnold, a good ol’ boy from Texas whom the clueless Rudy enlists as a business partner, only to have him try to cheat Joy out of her earnings. We know right away that Eddie’s a bad guy because he wears a big hat and has a scruffy beard and, worse still, a pronounced Southern drawl.
“Insulting a Texas boy is like pissing on a rattler,” Eddie warns Joy at one point. But his attempts at intimidating our heroine only serve to rally her troops around her, so that by the end of the show her bickering, dysfunctional family has miraculously morphed into a harmonious unit, wholly supportive of her and of each other.
If you can stand the lack of suspense, “JOY” nonetheless offers modest charms in its performances. Ms. Wolfe, notwithstanding her seeming discomfort with Joy’s accent, sings brightly and gives the character an appealing humility. She also serves the breezy humor that mitigates the banality of Mr. Davenport’s libretto with predictable facility.
Veteran troupers Jill Abramovitz and Adam Grupper bring similar warmth and ease to the roles of Joy’s parents, while as Tony, Brandon Espinoza gamely plays the cad with a heart of gold. Paul Whitty digs into nasty Eddie with even more relish, and the young actress Honor Blue Savage lends an unmannered sweetness — and scorn, when needed — to Joy’s daughter, Christie, the only character here who comes close to matching her mother’s virtuousness.
Joy’s devotion to Christie is central to the musical, as is the weight this mother assumes as a role model not only to her daughter but to ambitious, struggling women in general. Throughout the show, Ms. Latarro and choreographer Joshua Bergasse have female ensemble members — dressed by costume designer Tina McCartney to represent both professional women and women whose work is inside the home — gather around Ms. Wolfe, in sometimes silent displays of admiration and camaraderie.
At one point, a supporting female character wonders worriedly what will happen, if Joy fails, “the next time someone like us has an idea.” Ultimately, though, “JOY” seems less interested in pondering risks posed to women than in, like Ms. Mangano herself, selling something — in this case, a happy ending.
(Except for the headline, this story has not been edited by PostX News and is published from a syndicated feed.)
