'Back to the Future' and the Evolution of Musical Theatre

Roger Bart (left) and Casey Likes in 'Back to the Future: The Musical.' (Photo: MATTHEW MURPHY AND EVAN ZIMMERMAN)

by Clara Tan, Guest Editorial

In a musical that runs almost three hours with intermission, Back to the Future: The Musical can claim, to its singular credit, a total of one single leitmotif that is threaded memorably throughout the show.

Of course, it was the theme written for the original movie, you know the one, that opens with a perfect fifth and resolves back to the G. One of the most iconic tunes in blockbuster film history, so naturally, it is paired with some of the least inspiring lyrics one can imagine.

“It’s only a matter of time”.

For the rest of the show, you can be certain that tune is the only musical lilt that you will remember as you’re leaving the theatre. Now, I’m not here today to dissect Glen Ballard’s lyrics or the rest of the songs, depressing as they are. No, instead, today I’d like to walk you through what I think Back to the Future: The Musical embodies and what that bodes for the future of musical theatre.

The future’s looking grim, folks.

As I sat down in the Winter Garden, looking around, I noted the number of tourists that were in the audience. An entire family in front of us who were clearly from Eastern Europe, a very large gentleman with an even larger ten gallon hat and a tiny lady on his arm, and nerds who were here because they were clearly fans of the original film.

The show started late, presumably due to one of the many technical difficulties that have plagued this production. As we moved through the moments recapping the best parts of the film, I couldn’t help but notice just how restive the audience was. People were talking and giggling throughout the numbers, and when the intermission hit, the volume of chatter increased tenfold.

One didn’t have to understand Polish to tell that the family in front was bored. And that was very much the energy coursing throughout the theatre. The audience was bored. Act II started, and once again, people started checking out. Laughs and cheers could be heard when the iconic moments from the film were re-created, but the clear undercurrent of disinterest was palpable. Of course, the closing number and encore were the Huey Lewis songs written for the original film, “The Power of Love” and “Back in Time”, which were staged effectively as a concert performed by Marty and the Pinheads.

After the bows, making our way out of the theatre, once again, overhearing snippets of conversation, they seemed to consist of, “Well, that happened” and “I was so bored”. As my partner and I made our way out, and were about ten blocks away from the theatre, I looked at him, and said, “That was something that didn’t need to exist.”

Broadway has been moving in a very specific direction of late, adapting movies that were pop-culture phenomena in their day in the hopes of cashing in on the nostalgia of fans, as well as the average tourist who comes in to see a show, and decides, well, we might as well see Back to the Future: The Musical since it’s a known quantity.

I am certainly not the first person to note that capitalism incentivizes the creation of mediocre product in order to attempt to capture the market share of undiscerning consumers, and I’m sure I won’t be the last.

This particular show seemed so blatantly obvious as a cash grab that I could not understand, frankly, why it pulled in the house it did on a Wednesday night. Are we, as consumers, so easily distracted that even the most shoddily constructed, inane pieces of content can grab our attention?

I’m reminded of an interview Patti LuPone recently did on Q with Tom Power, where Patti describes modern Broadway as a combination of “Disneyland, the circus, and Las Vegas”. Incisive as ever, she cuts right to the heart of what I believe the issue is and that Back to the Future: The Musical is an unfortunate symptom of. The art that is being overwhelmingly produced of late is no longer being treated or viewed as art, but as content. It is seen as material to be consumed without the need to critically engage, like a prime goose being pumped full by gavage in order to prep its liver for harvesting.

Roger Bart, center, as Doc Brown in the musical “Back to the Future” at the Winter Garden Theater. (Photo: Sara Krulwich/The New York Times)

If one looks at the current Broadway season, we see revivals, jukebox musicals, and film adaptations. Shows like Aladdin, the theme park equivalent of a musical. Or Moulin Rouge, another jukebox musical selling itself on spectacle and beautiful boys and girls. Even Sweeney Todd, a show and score that I am personally very fond of, banking on stunt casting actors who are vocally wrong for the part in order to sell tickets.

What does it say about us, the audiences, if these shows are able to remain open and profitable? Are we so easily distracted that we’ll sit down for two hours to watch the musical theatre equivalent of jingling keys? Capitalism is certainly to blame for part of this, but so are we. If we, as consumers, simply shovel in the slop put in front of us, of course the producers will be financially motivated to make even lazier, less artistically honest content. This is a symptom of the era we live in. A world where the content is procedurally and algorithmically generated, with no thought as to the value of what one is putting out into the world.

Back to the Future: The Musical fits right into this milieu, but I would say is probably the most egregious symptom of a larger problem. Producers, the people with the money, the Broadway League, folks who hold the purse strings, do not respect their audiences. They believe that people will pay their hard earned money to see an adaptation of a much better film, just for the sake of seeing it live.

There is no pursuit of artistry, but capital. These investors are not interested in challenging their audiences or moving the quality of American theatre forward, no. They want to collect the returns on their investment, and they’re laughing at you all the way to the bank. I’m reminded of an episode of The Critic, where the eponymous character Jay Sherman, is fired from his TV show for giving one too many bad reviews. The episode ends with Jay giving a heartfelt tribute to cinema and the importance of art, culminating in this line:

“People, it’s up to you! If the movie stinks, just don’t go!”

That episode aired in 1994, and film critics have been complaining about the death of cinema ever since, but Jay was right. Both in relation to the film industry as well as to us here in our sister field. We should be more selective about the shows we watch. It shouldn’t be so easy to pull a house in based on, “Hey, remember that movie you liked? Wanna see it with songs and an actual flying car? Never mind if the songs aren’t good and the script basically lifted from the film!” It’s insulting, both to the intelligence of the audience and to the art of theatre as a whole. Is this an entry to the musical theatre canon that Silvestri and Ballard would be proud to have attached to their names?

Back in 1985, the actual DeLorean DMC was known as a notoriously unreliable vehicle. The joke is in the line, “Wait Doc, are you telling me that you built a Time Machine out of a DeLorean?”, as well as the fact that the actual car kept dying on Marty at the most inopportune times. Yet, because this apparently no longer translates to an audience in 2024, a gimmick of the DeLorean being voice-activated is added to the show. Unnecessary, condescending, and ultimately insulting.

Much like the very existence of this show to the artistic palate of the American theatergoing audience, in fact. Since we’re on the topic of cars, there is a very apt metaphor one can cite. The existence of Back to the Future: The Musical is much like the Tesla Cybertruck. An obscene example of how stupid our betters think we are. Useless, overly-produced, and a drain on resources that could be better directed. Also, a little aside, the Cybertruck’s unfinished stainless steel chassis is a clear homage to the DeLorean, and its owners are quickly discovering how prone to rust and corrosion that chassis really is. Road salt, bird poop, even the smallest amount of anything acidic can cause severe damage to the vehicle. Just like the original DeLorean.

That night, as the lights dimmed after intermission, I looked around at the audience members around me. Tourists and out of towners, clearly uninterested in what was about to happen. Swigging from their sippy cups of wine and beer, chatting loudly about nothing at all, and definitely not about how edifying and spiritually fulfilling the first act was.

As the orchestra started up for the second act, I turned to my partner, and said, “Well, at least it’ll be over soon. ♫ It’s only a matter of time ♫.”

He punched me in the arm.