Lead
Michael Mayer’s reimagining of the 1984 musical Chess opened at the Imperial Theater on November 16. The Broadway revival stars Lea Michele, Aaron Tveit and Nicholas Christopher, and recasts the show’s Cold War drama through a modern, self-aware lens. While the marquee promises a mature, sophisticated rendering, the production repeatedly toggles between sincere melodrama and mordant commentary, leaving its emotional balance unsettled. Audiences encounter strong vocal performances but an overall staging that often undermines its own heart.
Key Takeaways
- The revival opened November 16 at the Imperial Theater in New York with leads Lea Michele, Aaron Tveit and Nicholas Christopher.
- Director Michael Mayer and writer Danny Strong reshape the piece, expanding geopolitics and installing an omniscient Arbiter as a meta-narrator played by Bryce Pinkham.
- Musical highlights include Nicholas Christopher’s take on the act-one closer “Anthem,” Michele’s renditions of “Nobody’s Side” and “I Know Him So Well,” and Tveit’s charged performance in “Pity the Child” and “One Night in Bangkok.”
- Design elements by Kevin Adams (lighting), David Rockwell (set), Tom Broecker (costumes) and Peter Nigrini (video) create a glossy, sometimes gaudy aesthetic that frequently undercuts the performers’ sincerity.
- Chess’s score, by Benny Andersson and Bjorn Ulvaeus with lyrics and concept by Tim Rice, remains the show’s most consistent through line despite decades of book revisions and production reinventions.
- The production is presented by Tom Hulce, Robert Ahrens and The Schubert Organization and leans into Brechtian self-awareness while testing audience appetite for irony versus earnestness.
Background
Chess began life as a 1984 concept album by lyricist Tim Rice with music by ABBA members Benny Andersson and Bjorn Ulvaeus. It moved to the West End in 1986 and then to Broadway in 1988, where it failed to connect with critics and audiences in that incarnation. Over the decades the show has been reshaped repeatedly; changes to book and structure have left each major revival feeling like a distinct work rather than a simple restaging.
The musical’s score mixes early 1980s soft-rock pop with operetta-tinged passages, producing a patchwork that fans often value for a few standout songs even when the book feels uneven. That malleability makes Chess simultaneously fertile and perilous for directors: its successes tend to hinge on bold, coherent reinterpretation or on full-throated, unabashed theatricality. Michael Mayer, known for making older material feel new, approaches Chess as both museum piece and political parable, inviting comparison with his earlier work two decades ago on Spring Awakening.
Main Event
Mayer and Danny Strong recast The Arbiter into an omniscient, sometimes trickster-like guide who frames the action for a contemporary audience. Bryce Pinkham plays that role with quick wit and stage-manager energy, frequently stepping out of the narrative to contextualize or mock the show itself. That device allows the revival to comment on Chess’s dated moments, but it also sets up a tension: when the Arbiter winks, the production invites distance rather than immersion.
At the center are three performers who largely pursue the material earnestly. Nicholas Christopher supplies a broad, yearning baritone as Anatoly, notably powering through the act-one closer “Anthem.” Lea Michele approaches Florence with raw musical force; her performances of the key ballads aim for concert-level intensity and occasionally overwhelm subtler acting choices. Aaron Tveit, as the American chess star, delivers some of the production’s most electrifying moments, especially in “Pity the Child,” where he channels operatic rock drama.
The staging and design often pull in the opposite direction. Kevin Adams’s lighting and David Rockwell’s industrial-leaning set introduce a garish, high-gloss look that spotlights performative artifice. Moments of genuine emotional display feel exposed to the production’s critical frame rather than supported by it, producing repeated shifts between high melodrama and arch commentary. Two inventive match sequences dramatize players’ interior monologues, but the actual game of chess remains a largely symbolic backdrop rather than a central dramatic engine.
Analysis & Implications
The core tension in Mayer’s Chess is conceptual: can a director both celebrate the original musical’s heightened emotionality and reliably satirize its excesses? Mayer’s answer is provisional. By framing the piece as both artifact and indictment, the production forces audiences to decide whether they prefer to be moved or to be amused by their own impulses to be moved. That split personality may frustrate viewers seeking a single tonal center, yet it also offers a contemporary theory of revival: use meta-commentary to interrogate what made the show popular while preserving its most potent musical moments.
Politically, the revival stretches Chess’s Cold War setting into larger anxieties about espionage and nuclear threat, but it tends to address those stakes from distance. The directors gesture at global peril without letting the geopolitical consequences land on the characters in a sustained way. As a result, the production reads less as a tightened political thriller and more as a cultural history lesson—one that highlights how Cold War narratives can be repurposed to comment on present-day cycles of paranoia and spectacle.
Commercially and culturally, this version of Chess tests the appetite for big-voice musicals wrapped in irony. Strong vocal leads and the inherent recognizability of specific songs give the show box-office potential, but awards-season positioning and long-term commercial legs will likely depend on whether audiences embrace the tonal friction instead of viewing it as indecision. Regional houses and future revivals may study this staging as a model for balancing reverence with critique, for better or worse.
Comparison & Data
| Production | Year | Notable Outcome |
|---|---|---|
| Concept album | 1984 | Initial musical framework, songs became hits |
| West End | 1986 | Successful run with revised book |
| Broadway | 1988 | Commercial failure in its original Broadway form |
| Mayer revival | Opened Nov. 16 | New meta-narrative, mixed critical response |
The table underscores how Chess has changed shape across four decades, with the score providing continuity while books and staging shift. This revival leans into meta-theatrical devices more than many past productions, trading a unified dramatic core for a layered commentary on the musical’s own history.
Reactions & Quotes
“Wow.”
Onstage, spoken by the Arbiter during performance
“A giddy shiver of the prescient or the eternal.”
Reviewer observation
Audience responses are split between appreciation for the lead vocal performances and bemusement at the production’s tendency to undercut its own emotional moments. Industry observers may see the staging as an experiment in revival strategy: leverage star power and iconic songs while framing them with critical distance.
Unconfirmed
- Whether the production will extend beyond its initially announced run or transfer to another theater remains unconfirmed by producers.
- Reports of significant further script rewrites beyond the published credit for Danny Strong have not been publicly substantiated.
- Awards-season prospects and official box office longevity are still unknown at this stage and depend on early ticket sales and critical consensus.
Bottom Line
Mayer’s Chess is an ambitious attempt to reconcile a protean score and a shaky book with contemporary theatrical instincts. Strong vocal work from Michele, Tveit and Christopher often redeems the show when it leans into unguarded melodrama, but the production’s persistent meta-commentary keeps those moments at arm’s length. For viewers who relish theater that interrogates its own machinery, this revival offers a provocative, style-forward experience.
For audiences seeking a wholly heartfelt revival, the repeated toggles between sincerity and snark may frustrate. Either way, this Chess is notable: it reframes a divisive classic for a new era and leaves open useful questions about how much irony a revival can sustain before it erodes the very passion that made the original memorable.
Sources
- The Hollywood Reporter — press review and production coverage