Review: Chess Returns to Broadway With Checkmate Vocals and a Checked-Out Book

As more and more flops are rescued from the ash heap of history, it was only a matter of time before Chess got its turn. A musical with a, shall we say, checkered past, it was conceived by Tim Rice, who teamed up with Benny Andersson and Björn Ulvaeus of ABBA to craft a tale of love and geopolitical brinksmanship centered around, well, you know. It was relatively well-received in 1980s London, where it ran for three years alongside fellow park-and-bark mega-musicals Les Mis and Phantom, but after a heavily revised Broadway transfer closed in two months, the show was relegated to the “I love that score!” files of theatrical geekdom.

Still, Chess spawned a handful of bona fide hits, most notably the eternal “One Night in Bangkok,” and show-off audition staples “Anthem,” “Pity the Child,” and “Someone Else’s Story.” Chess has always been a great score in search of a good book, and writer Danny Strong believes he’s cracked the code by reframing it as a self-referential examination of Cold War-era American and Russian relations, filled with a healthy dose of humor and antipathy. He hasn’t. But it’s nice to hear the score live.

Honestly, how can it not be when you have Aaron Tveit, Nicholas Christopher, Lea Michele, and Hannah Cruz coming front and center and singing like their lives depend on it? Strong’s revision centers the first act around the Strategic Arms Limitation Talks (SALT) of the Carter-Brezhnev era and the second during the 1983 Able Archer nuclear war scare of the Reagan presidency. So, in the high-stakes context of the story, they do.

The initial match is between Freddie Trumper (Tveit), bipolar American chess world champion, and sad sack Soviet Anatoly Sergievsky (Christopher). If Anatoly loses, he’ll almost certainly be disappeared by the KGB. But does that matter when Freddie’s public antagonism of Russia leads to breakdown of SALT II? That’s when CIA operative Walter De Courcey (Sean Allan Krill) approaches Anatoly’s coach, Alexander Molokov (Bradley Dean), with a proposition: bring the Soviets back to the negotiating table, and America will ensure paranoid Freddie’s defeat

Amid the international intrigue is a love-rectangle. Freddie is on the outs with girlfriend and coach, Florence Vassay (Michele), a Hungarian refugee who once had a fling with Anatoly. When Freddie quits the match and their relationship implodes, Florence and newly minted champion Anatoly defect to England. Enter his estranged wife, Svetlana (Cruz) and their children, who become political pawns themselves in a match that could spell the end of the world—theirs, and everyone else’s.

If the original Broadway production was about “nothing except the authors’ own pompous pretentions,” as Frank Rich said in his review, this revival is at least about something; namely, Strong’s self-satisfied meta-commentary that underscores the contemporary parallels in bright red ink, because, of course, none of us are smart enough figure it out on our own.

“So the Americans and the Russians team up to defeat Freddie Trumper, an attempted partnership so unusual it wouldn’t be seen again for many decades until RFK Jr. attempted to team up with the worm in his brain”—bada-bing!

“With a reckless arrogance that would be seen again many decades later when Joe Biden decided to run for re-election…the KGB decides to use an international crisis to help win back the championship”—bada-boom!

That Bryce Pinkham, as narrator-cum-chess arbiter, delivers these heaps of Rossiyskiy without rolling his eyes is nothing short of heroic. The milquetoast titters they receive from the house tell you all you need to know about these “jokes” that suck the air out of the plot.

A show that wears its emotions so nakedly on its sleeve is not a place where you typically find earth-shattering nuance, so it’s surprising how deep the actors manage to dig amid the bombast and goofiness. Florence is still woefully underwritten role, but Michele knows exactly how to build and sell a power ballad like “Someone Else’s Story,” now given the 11 o’clock slot. Cruz, onstage only in Act 2, brings a wealth of honesty to Svetlana, even though she, too, is basically a throwaway. Seems a show with exactly one woman on its primary creative team doesn’t know how to deal with its female characters—go figure.

Naturally, the men are well-served. Krill and Dean make the most of their asides, trading barbs with the timing of seasoned comedians. Owning the stage with ego-driven confidence, Tveit is the best he’s ever been, a livewire act of charisma and bravado. And, mark my words, this is Christopher’s star-making vehicle. His “Anthem” at the end of the first act is the kind of showstopper that will be remembered long after the specifics of this production have been forgotten. Remarkably, it’s topped by his electrifying “Endgame” much later on.

This is probably the most accessible that Chess has ever been, though it’s still a fairly laborious sit at nearly three hours. Michael Mayer’s staging gives it a high gloss sheen that effectively makes you forget that you’re bored, with near-constant (one might call it too much) movement (Lorin Latarro), sharply focused neon lighting (Kevin Adams), racy costumes (Tom Broecker), and an expansive but minimal David Rockwell set that places Ian Weinberger’s robust, 18-member orchestra above the action. The whole production feels like watching an Encores! concert that did a bump of coke and went clubbing.

Mayer is a savvy-enough director to know exactly where the big moments are and how to keep focus there. Whether or not Chess works as a musical, this rare revival delivers exactly what you paid for: Tveit, Michele, Christopher, and Cruz belting their faces off and look sexy as hell while doing it.