2000 : The Year the Tonys Got It Wrong
by Chris Peterson, OnStage Blog Founder
It’s been over two decades. We’ve had time. We’ve healed. We’ve (maybe) forgiven. But I think it’s high time we take a hard look back at one of the strangest, most confounding decisions in recent Broadway memory: Contact winning Best Musical over The Wild Party and James Joyce’s The Dead at the 2000 Tony Awards.
Now, before anyone dusts off their Playbill from Lincoln Center and prepares a spirited defense, let’s be clear: Contact was an innovative piece of dance theatre. It was sleek, it was stylish, it had thrilling choreography, and a cool narrative thread. But here’s the problem, it wasn’t a musical. At least, not in the traditional sense. There were no live singers. There was no original score. All of the music was pre-recorded. And if the category is Best Musical, shouldn’t, well, music be a core component of the storytelling? Preferably music created for the production?
Meanwhile, sitting in that same category were two absolute powerhouses of musical theatre craft: Michael John LaChiusa’s The Wild Party and James Joyce’s The Dead by Richard Nelson and Shaun Davey. Both were daring. Both were original. Both used music to deepen character, theme, and mood. Both had living, breathing actors singing live in the theater. And yet, somehow, they were eclipsed by a show with a swing-dancing spirit and a big yellow dress.
Let’s talk The Wild Party for a moment. LaChiusa’s score is a fever dream of jazz, vaudeville, and emotional carnage. The show was messy, sure, but intentionally so. Its whole thesis was about excess, about what happens when you pack too many feelings into a single apartment and shake the bottle until it explodes. Eartha Kitt purred her way through “When It Ends,” Toni Collette delivered a haunted, heartbreaking Queenie, and Marc Kudisch was out there doing the most every night. Was it polarizing? Yes. But it was bold, it was theatrical, it was a musical.
And then there’s James Joyce’s The Dead, which couldn’t be more different, quiet, literary, intimate, but no less deserving. It was a chamber musical that trusted its audience. The score was restrained and delicate, but devastating in its emotional payoff. It was a masterclass in musical subtlety, the kind of show that gets under your skin without you realizing it, until you’re sitting there during “The Living and the Dead,” absolutely shattered by its final image. It was the antithesis of flashy, and maybe that’s why voters passed it over. But its impact was profound, and very real.
This isn’t about punishing Contact. It went on to have a healthy run and introduced some folks to the idea of dance as narrative theater. Great! But the decision to give it Best Musical opened up a much larger conversation: what exactly is a musical? What are we honoring with this award? Innovation is important, but so is honoring the foundational elements of the art form. Contact belonged somewhere, maybe Best Special Theatrical Event (which didn’t exist at the time, but would literally be created one year later). It didn’t belong in the same ring as two shows pouring their souls out eight times a week through original music and live performance.
Imagine if this happened today. Imagine a show came along, used nothing but pre-recorded pop songs and no live vocals, and somehow swept the Tonys. Twitter would combust. Thinkpieces would flow like wine. Broadway fans would burn down message boards with furious speed. But in 2000, it just... happened. And while a few critics raised their eyebrows, the legacy of that decision has mostly been left to sit in a quiet little corner of Tony history.
So here’s the plea: let’s re-evaluate 2000. Not officially, no one’s going to pry that Tony out of Susan Stroman’s hands. But in our hearts, in our minds, in the way we talk about musical theatre history, let’s give The Wild Party and James Joyce’s The Dead their due. One was daring and chaotic, the other gentle and poetic. Both were musicals in the truest sense. And both were, quite simply, better choices.
It’s not about bitterness. It’s about legacy, and maybe just a little bit of justice.