Attending Back to the Future: The Musical at the Denver Center for the Performing Arts felt eerily reminiscent of watching a live performance at a Disney theme park. Those eager-to-please short adaptations of movies like Finding Nemo and Beauty and the Beast aim to replicate beloved stories with high energy and spectacle but lack the nuance that made the originals so cherished.
Much like the cheap onstage attractions at Disney's parks that mindlessly entertain tourists with relevant intellectual property, the touring Broadway musical adaptation of the 1985 film Back to the Future focuses on dazzling audience members with flashy effects and familiar tunes designed to direct them to the merchandise table rather than providing a meaningful theatrical experience.
Given the caliber of the production team, you'd expect a more compelling result. Adapted by the original creators, Bob Gale and Robert Zemeckis, the musical features music and lyrics by Alan Silvestri and Glen Ballard and is directed by Tony Award winner John Rando. The show's plot is nearly identical to that of the film: teenager Marty McFly is accidentally transported back to 1955 in a time machine built by eccentric scientist Doc Brown. He inadvertently interferes with his parents' meeting and must ensure they fall in love to secure his own existence, all while finding a way back to the future.
The production falls flat in several areas, however. The extended runtime, clocking in at two hours and forty minutes — 46 minutes longer than the film — is padded with uninspired numbers that flesh out moments from the movie that hardly warranted musical exploration. For example, "Gotta Start Somewhere" is dedicated entirely to Goldie's realization that he should run for mayor — a brief, impactful moment in the film that becomes unnecessarily prolonged on stage. Similarly, George McFly's peeping Tom tendencies are given a full musical treatment in "My Myopia," transforming a creepy but pivotal plot point into an uncomfortable and drawn-out spectacle.
The choreography is equally problematic, frequently breaking the fourth wall for no apparent purpose or benefit to the narrative. These hokey routines by choreographer Chris Bailey disrupt the story's flow and appear to be designed solely to elicit cheap laughs or showcase bad dance routines, rather than to advance the plot or character development. A prime example is the "It Works" number, in which the introduction of the DeLorean Girls after Doc successfully constructs a time machine feels like an attempt to add flair, but their simplistic dance moves underscore the production's overall lack of creativity. Additionally, the "21st Century" sequence — a dream segment performed by Doc Brown at the beginning of Act II — abruptly halts, leaving dancers stranded onstage, further highlighting the disjointed nature of the choreography and production's insistence on going for cheap jokes at the expense of narrative cohesion.
It's also evident that the production blew its budget on the DeLorean, which admittedly looks impressive when it flies at the end of Act II, but comes at the expense of the rest of the set design. The majority of the "set" consists of small scenic pieces accented by cheap-looking flies or, worse, an ugly projection screen. This lack of investment in a cohesive and immersive environment makes the production feel amateurish.
Likewise, the book by Bob Gale fails to effectively translate the film into a musical format. Instead of reimagining scenes to naturally incorporate musical elements, the production often shoehorns songs into the narrative, resulting in jarring transitions and a disjointed storytelling experience. It's as if the creators didn't trust the original material's strength and felt compelled to add musical numbers as a gimmick rather than a meaningful enhancement.
And it's a shame the creators didn't trust the source material, because re-watching the original film before attending the cash-grab musical served as a stark reminder of the movie's masterful balance of action, humor and heart. It takes its characters seriously, telling a tightly paced story that makes you care deeply about Marty, his parents and Doc Brown, whereas the musical treats its characters superficially, undermining their original appeal.
The writer's treatment of Lorraine (Zan Berube) is a prime example of how the musical butchers the characters. In the film, the reveal that Marty's mom is a "bad girl" who doesn't follow the rules she will later give her children is a gradual build-up, climaxing in the car scene. In the musical, this nuance is tossed out the window. During her first song, "Pretty Baby," Lorraine comes face-to-face with her son's junk, attempting to engage in a sexual act. This rushed and tasteless approach undermines the character's complexity and the original story's pacing.
The few moments that work in the musical are ripped directly from the film, such as George McFly standing up to Biff and exact lines like, "If you're going to build a time machine into a car, why not do it with some style?" These instances serve as reminders of the film's brilliance, emphasizing the musical's failure to contribute anything new or worthwhile to the narrative.
Weak casting further undermines the potential of this adaptation. Don Stephenson's portrayal of Doc Brown comes across as a coked-up Martin Short, lacking the eccentric yet endearing qualities that Christopher Lloyd brought to the character. Caden Brauch, stepping into the iconic role of Marty McFly, is no Michael J. Fox. Instead of the charismatic, relatable teenager we remember, Brauch's Marty is whiny and abrasive, displaying zero chemistry with Kiara Lee playing girlfriend Jennifer.
As George McFly, Mike Bindeman delivers the sole redeeming performance. He nails the physicality and awkwardness of the character, bringing a semblance of authenticity to the stage. Unfortunately, the same cannot be said for the rest of the show.
The production does succeed in another area: capitalizing on nostalgia for profit. The show seems designed to sell merchandise (anyone for a $100 puffy vest?) and convert the children of nostalgic parents into fans of the franchise, priming them for future installments or remakes. This is evident in the show's conclusion, which mentions a fictional Back to the Future 4 as the most recent installment in George McFly's book series — a not-so-subtle nod to potential franchise expansion.
Though adapting films into stage musicals has become a common practice, Back to the Future: The Musical exemplifies the pitfalls of such endeavors when not executed thoughtfully. But other film-to-musical adaptations have successfully made the transition by thoughtfully reimagining their source material.
For example, Hairspray took John Waters' 1988 film and infused it with dynamic musical numbers that enhanced the story's themes of integration and self-acceptance. The Producers turned Mel Brooks' 1967 film into a successful musical by expanding on the original's comedic elements and incorporating show-stopping numbers that satirize Broadway itself. Even Waitress, adapted from the 2007 indie film, successfully uses music to delve deeper into the protagonist's inner life.
These successful adaptations have one thing in common: They respect the source material while utilizing musical theater's unique strengths to provide new perspectives and deeper emotional engagement. They don't rely solely on audience nostalgia but strive to create a standalone experience that justifies their existence as a musical.
Though the allure of revisiting cherished stories is understandable, adaptations must offer more than a mere rehashing of familiar content. They should strive to deepen our understanding of the original material, provide fresh insights or, at the very least, deliver an engaging and contained experience.
Back to the Future: The Musical feels less like a heartfelt homage and more like a cynical branding exercise. This show doesn't just fail to hit 88 miles per hour; it stalls out before it even leaves the driveway.
Back to the Future: The Musical runs through Sunday, February 9, at the Buell Theatre, Denver Performing Arts Complex, 1400 Curtis Street. Tickets are $46 to $150; learn more at denvercenter.org.
Much like the cheap onstage attractions at Disney's parks that mindlessly entertain tourists with relevant intellectual property, the touring Broadway musical adaptation of the 1985 film Back to the Future focuses on dazzling audience members with flashy effects and familiar tunes designed to direct them to the merchandise table rather than providing a meaningful theatrical experience.
Given the caliber of the production team, you'd expect a more compelling result. Adapted by the original creators, Bob Gale and Robert Zemeckis, the musical features music and lyrics by Alan Silvestri and Glen Ballard and is directed by Tony Award winner John Rando. The show's plot is nearly identical to that of the film: teenager Marty McFly is accidentally transported back to 1955 in a time machine built by eccentric scientist Doc Brown. He inadvertently interferes with his parents' meeting and must ensure they fall in love to secure his own existence, all while finding a way back to the future.
The production falls flat in several areas, however. The extended runtime, clocking in at two hours and forty minutes — 46 minutes longer than the film — is padded with uninspired numbers that flesh out moments from the movie that hardly warranted musical exploration. For example, "Gotta Start Somewhere" is dedicated entirely to Goldie's realization that he should run for mayor — a brief, impactful moment in the film that becomes unnecessarily prolonged on stage. Similarly, George McFly's peeping Tom tendencies are given a full musical treatment in "My Myopia," transforming a creepy but pivotal plot point into an uncomfortable and drawn-out spectacle.
Doc Brown with dancing girls? Back to the Future: The Musical lacks the charm of the original film.
Courtesy of Matthew Murphy and Evan Zimmerman
It's also evident that the production blew its budget on the DeLorean, which admittedly looks impressive when it flies at the end of Act II, but comes at the expense of the rest of the set design. The majority of the "set" consists of small scenic pieces accented by cheap-looking flies or, worse, an ugly projection screen. This lack of investment in a cohesive and immersive environment makes the production feel amateurish.
Likewise, the book by Bob Gale fails to effectively translate the film into a musical format. Instead of reimagining scenes to naturally incorporate musical elements, the production often shoehorns songs into the narrative, resulting in jarring transitions and a disjointed storytelling experience. It's as if the creators didn't trust the original material's strength and felt compelled to add musical numbers as a gimmick rather than a meaningful enhancement.
And it's a shame the creators didn't trust the source material, because re-watching the original film before attending the cash-grab musical served as a stark reminder of the movie's masterful balance of action, humor and heart. It takes its characters seriously, telling a tightly paced story that makes you care deeply about Marty, his parents and Doc Brown, whereas the musical treats its characters superficially, undermining their original appeal.
The writer's treatment of Lorraine (Zan Berube) is a prime example of how the musical butchers the characters. In the film, the reveal that Marty's mom is a "bad girl" who doesn't follow the rules she will later give her children is a gradual build-up, climaxing in the car scene. In the musical, this nuance is tossed out the window. During her first song, "Pretty Baby," Lorraine comes face-to-face with her son's junk, attempting to engage in a sexual act. This rushed and tasteless approach undermines the character's complexity and the original story's pacing.
The DeLorean special effects are one of the few elements that work in this low-budget cash grab imported from New York to Denver.
Courtesy of Matthew Murphy and Evan Zimmerman
Weak casting further undermines the potential of this adaptation. Don Stephenson's portrayal of Doc Brown comes across as a coked-up Martin Short, lacking the eccentric yet endearing qualities that Christopher Lloyd brought to the character. Caden Brauch, stepping into the iconic role of Marty McFly, is no Michael J. Fox. Instead of the charismatic, relatable teenager we remember, Brauch's Marty is whiny and abrasive, displaying zero chemistry with Kiara Lee playing girlfriend Jennifer.
As George McFly, Mike Bindeman delivers the sole redeeming performance. He nails the physicality and awkwardness of the character, bringing a semblance of authenticity to the stage. Unfortunately, the same cannot be said for the rest of the show.
The production does succeed in another area: capitalizing on nostalgia for profit. The show seems designed to sell merchandise (anyone for a $100 puffy vest?) and convert the children of nostalgic parents into fans of the franchise, priming them for future installments or remakes. This is evident in the show's conclusion, which mentions a fictional Back to the Future 4 as the most recent installment in George McFly's book series — a not-so-subtle nod to potential franchise expansion.
Though adapting films into stage musicals has become a common practice, Back to the Future: The Musical exemplifies the pitfalls of such endeavors when not executed thoughtfully. But other film-to-musical adaptations have successfully made the transition by thoughtfully reimagining their source material.
For example, Hairspray took John Waters' 1988 film and infused it with dynamic musical numbers that enhanced the story's themes of integration and self-acceptance. The Producers turned Mel Brooks' 1967 film into a successful musical by expanding on the original's comedic elements and incorporating show-stopping numbers that satirize Broadway itself. Even Waitress, adapted from the 2007 indie film, successfully uses music to delve deeper into the protagonist's inner life.
These successful adaptations have one thing in common: They respect the source material while utilizing musical theater's unique strengths to provide new perspectives and deeper emotional engagement. They don't rely solely on audience nostalgia but strive to create a standalone experience that justifies their existence as a musical.
Though the allure of revisiting cherished stories is understandable, adaptations must offer more than a mere rehashing of familiar content. They should strive to deepen our understanding of the original material, provide fresh insights or, at the very least, deliver an engaging and contained experience.
Back to the Future: The Musical feels less like a heartfelt homage and more like a cynical branding exercise. This show doesn't just fail to hit 88 miles per hour; it stalls out before it even leaves the driveway.
Back to the Future: The Musical runs through Sunday, February 9, at the Buell Theatre, Denver Performing Arts Complex, 1400 Curtis Street. Tickets are $46 to $150; learn more at denvercenter.org.
