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Shockheaded Peter reviewed by aimee deeken Little Shubert Theatre 422 West 42nd Street, between 9th and Dyer Aves. Tues.-Sat., 8 p.m., except Thursdays at 10 p.m. Saturday, 3 p.m.; Sunday, 2 and 7 p.m Tickets: 212-239-6200, telecharge.com, theatermania.com $40-65; $25 Thursdays $20 rush (limited number of tickets distributed two hours before each show) 1 hour, 40 min., no intermission Shockheaded Peter is a morality play gone haywire, a string of morose tales about mischievous children. Through childlike rhymes and somber melodies, the tots’ bad behavior is taken to its darkest, most cruel (yet most hilarious) conclusion: we see what really happened when Harriet played with matches, Robert thought he could fly or little Conrad wouldn’t stop sucking his thumb.
That premise is set against three levels of angular doors and windows, each a portal to a wicked whippersnapper (exemplified via a puppet or doll) who runs afoul and gets his or her comeuppance, usually with lots of bleeding involved. Dark humor amid gothic, claustrophobic settings, naughty children meeting absurd, untimely deaths —imagine a theatrical, musical version of Roald Dahl’s Revolting Rhymes, add a touch of Tim Burton and the 1920 German film, The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari. This unbelievably imaginative production (not to mention unconventional for Broadway) originally played in New York in 1999. The musical’s co-directors, co-designers, composer, lyricist, and most of its performing cast helped create Shockheaded Peter in the London-based Cultural Industry group. Of the 11 creators, Martyn Jacques wears the most hats, having also composed the music and written the lyrics, which he adapted from a mid-19th century book (Struwwelpeter) by Dr. Heinrich Hoffmann. In it, the German doctor creates absurd tragedies that befall deviant and disobedient children. The production has a rotating cast, eight on a given night, three of whom are musicians (with accordion, upright bass, percussion) of onstage band The Tiger Lillies. These three flit briskly from dreary song to sordid tune, with (again) Jacques singing most of the show’s somber melodies in earnest woe, as one poor young life after another gets snuffed out due to bad behavior. A creepy narrator in exaggerated gothic makeup helps add to the melodrama, delectably revealing to the audience in scene after scene his staunch belief that nothing could be “moooore monstrrrrrrous” than “naughty boys and girls who spoil their pinafores.” The little terrors learn all too well (but too late) the error of their ways. So if you’re not opposed to such morbid amusement, you’ll react as the sold-out crowd did: laughing through every child’s grisly, gruesome end.
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