It’s not long into the new musical Darling Grenadine, after a brief direct address to the audience by Adam Kantor’s ingratiating lead character, Harry, that the first song comes, but it takes till the top of the second act to get to the song that gives the show its bizarre title. It’s an ode to the pomegranate syrup that goes into a Shirley Temple, and by that time what began as a romance of struggling artists in New York City has found an unexpected path through the shopworn trappings of such tales.
The show—book, music and lyrics—is by Daniel Zaitchik, and it follows a couple, Harry and Louise, as they meet cute, begin to date, and encounter problems. Harry is a composer living off the proceeds of a wildly successful jingle, but he has half-hearted yearnings to write deeper stuff. Louise is in the chorus of a show that a friend of Harry’s performs in, and he has fallen for her. There are echoes throughout of theater-focused efforts, from 42nd Street to A Class Act, but the substance isn’t only about show-biz: it encompasses alcoholism, and Zaitchik’s book cannily takes its own time getting there.
Equally as important, director Michael Berresse has staged it in the round, and Matt Moisey’s orchestrations (piano, bass, guitar) let the lyrics come through clearly. The music is tuneful and outstandingly performed, although at times the songs seem strange. The first is about how Louise’s reaction to being called “honey” by waitresses, a subject that seems arbitrarily chosen simply because nobody has ever written about it:
Every time a waitress calls me honey, I die of happiness
Can’t remember when the whole thing started or why, but nonetheless
It’s always been this way, when sweet words come my way I die
Then, however, Zaitchik has a passage that proves character-revealing:
It’s something warm when nights are chilly
Something soft when days are hard
It catches me off guard
It’s small—it’s almost nothing at all
But it’s gentle and good…
Darling Grenadine has several such left-field topics woven into seductive vignettes. It all holds one’s attention, helped by vivid projections by Edward T. Morris—along with scene and time advisories, they include a New York City skyline and exploding fireworks.
Harry and Louise’s attraction grows. He brings her to a club owned by his gay brother, Paul; there Harry plays piano, but not his own works—the club is called Standards. He introduces Louise to Paul, the brother (Jay Armstrong Johnson), and Paul, his dog, unseen but wittily sounded by trumpeter Mike Nappi. There are walks in the park, stops at a coffee shop with a surly barista, and phone messages from Harry’s frustrated agent Felix to remind him of deadlines for work that’s due as Harry spirals downward in his drinking. (Matt Dallal deftly plays the barista, Felix, and other roles.)
There are some missteps: a steal from All About Eve feels too blatant, and the title song, though exuberantly performed, adds mostly texture. And in one respect Zaitchik’s ambition proves a mistake: after “I’ll Take Manhattan” and “I Happen to Like New York,” his paean to the city, “Manhattan,” withers. A moment of coarseness only underlines the overreach:
And I’ll never leave Manhattan
She’s got a strange allure
There’s no gettin’ off Manhattan
Unless you’re gettin’ off on her …
On the other hand, there are also “numbers” from the show Louise is in, Paradise, and Zaitchik has composed those songs with a slightly different tenor—they are clearly of that show, not this. Best of all, Zaitchik’s dialogue scenes crackle.
The performers sail through it all. Kantor has remarkable chemistry with Emily Walton, who invests Louise with sober self-knowledge and a charming flippancy. Aury Krebbs handles the multiple female roles with aplomb.
Johnson, who is best known as the happy-go-lucky sailor Chip in the 2014 revival of On the Town, and who recently played an amusing doofus in Scotland, PA, is Paul, and, as good as he always is, here he is revelatory, delivering more gravitas than high spirits. Late in the show he has a speech about his coming-out to Harry that’s a knockout. (Their family dynamics are more complicated than Louise had initially thought.)
Darling Grenadine isn’t a rehash of the evils of alcoholism so much as a bittersweet story of love and artists under duress, and finding self-knowledge and self-worth. Continually surprising, it’s a memorable effort from a writer and composer worth following.
Daniel Zaitchik’s Darling Grenadine plays at the Roundabout Underground (111 West 46th St.) through March 22. Evening performances are at 7 p.m. Tuesday through Sunday (except Feb. 27); matinees are at 1:30 p.m. on Saturday and 2 p.m. on Sunday (except Feb. 16); tickets ($30) are available at any Roundabout box office or by calling (212) 719-1300, or visiting roundabouttheatre.org.