REVIEW: Pippin (Signature Theatre)
I think the immediate post-Golden Age era of American musicals is underrated. That post-Fiddler, pre-Cats slice of it, where Times Square was peak red-light and A Chorus Line had to come in and save the industry, when abandoned theatres were being demolished and turned into those car-elevator things. The slogging postmortem of New York (and by extension, American) industry led to some dismal vibes, but through this we got some truly ambitious material. Hair, Cabaret, and Chicago from this era have become undeniable staples of the canon, and all take cynical approaches to the art form. And long before his later hit Wicked, so too was composer Stephen Schwartz. Just a year after his contribution to the Jesus Musical™️ trend with the serendipitous Godspell, he releases a show people still aren’t quite sure what to make of 54 years later in 2026; and one that still happens to be, in my opinion, his best musical work. That’s of course 1972’s Pippin, the sultry meta-hodgepodge that won a slew of Tony’s and made him and Bob Fosse household names. Its 2013 Broadway revival won a bunch of awards, too; and if there’s any justice in this world, Signature’s new production, from artistic director Matthew Gardiner, will do the same at the 2027 Helen Hayes Awards a year from now.
Book/Music
There’s just so much happening in this piece. It’s hard to figure out what exactly it’s even about half the time. While some musicals with this amount of chutzpah can fall flat on their face, Pippin succeeds due to the masterful layers of storytelling underneath each bop and shoulder shimmy. I guess we can start with the “main” story, following the titular Pippin, son of Charlemagne, as he searches for the meaning of life. Because that’s too easy, this is framed as a musical-within-a-musical being put on by a traveling troupe of mysterious players led by a particularly giddy and controlling Leading Player, who serves as the audience’s narrator and in-show director. The book, by Roger Hirson, is often at odds with itself as to which story it /actually/ is according to its characters, which makes it such a unique framing device. Weaker scores could still sink such a premise, but Schwartz’s groovy and percussive approach is legendary for a reason, containing several pre-disco bangers that are some of the most boogie-able in all of American theatre — “Simple Joys”? “Magic to Do”? My goodness. (Motown was one of the original producers of the show for a reason.) The show’s joyous score is often a terrific foil for its actually darker, borderline Faustian elements, which rear their teeth periodically throughout the show in a usually non-sung form. (Check out more thoughts on those, two sections down.) Pippin is such an electric piece of art, a product of its time in all the best ways, and one I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of experiencing. 10/10
Acting
When Signature announced Cedric Neal as leading player, I basically rented a chair in the MAX theatre and slept there until the show opened. Matt Gardiner had to kick me out several times. Neal, who was sensational in London’s Guys & Dolls a few years back, seemed like such an excellent pick for this role.
But, he isn't excellent; try "resplendent". Neal brings a giddy flamboyance to the role that is taut and exciting, with frenetic movement dictating his serpentine demeanor. I had concerns he would try too hard to emulate Patina Miller's turn from 2013, and though it feels inspired from it, it nonetheless is fresh and sinister in its own right. The carousel of Pippin's other interactions are just as strong, too. If you want some sultry soprano, Maria Rizzo's "Spread A Little Sunshine" is there for you. Eric Hissom's "War Is A Science" is pattery and humorous. Naomi Jacobson's infectiously happy appearance as Pippin's grandma Berthe, makes even more unforgettable the classic singalong "No Time At All". It's furthermore a testament to the material that the first Act is so stacked with talented fun that you forget that an incredible Awa Sal Secka lies on the other side of intermission in one of the most entertaining performances I've seen her in to date. And the hero himself? Brayden Bambino brings more of a himbo vibe to the stage, but grows into something cerebral and protective as the show progresses. His vocal presence has more muscle and is less naive than I am used to for Pippin characterizations, but it evens out the weight of the Leading Player-Pippin dynamic that often can be lopsided. 10/10
Production
This production is so incredibly airtight in its vision. Diane Paulus' version, which was my introduction to the piece, leaned towards the players as more of a circus troupe. Gardiner, meanwhile, has turned it into a disco from hell. (Which, personally, is always how I personally interpreted the material.) The way that the ensemble of players -- all hauntingly clad in ghastly pale harlequin drapery from Signature favorite Erik Teague --dart around is staggering. Rachel Leigh Dolan's choreography is delectably breezy around Christopher and Justin Swader's dazzlingly minimal set, featuring more than a handful of joyous athleticism and classical Fosse numbers such as the Manson trio. In fact, something the production understands wholeheartedly about such physicality is that Pippin is a raffishly horny show at its core. It's never (that) graphic or explicit, but the contact required of the piece is very present, the characters easily blurring the line between intimacy and performance. Adam Honore too has found a way to somehow amp up the visual spectacle in his sharp-as-nails lighting design, which ranges between drenches of intense color to pointed, strategic sprinkles of luminance. It’s two hours and change of exhilarating physical, aural, and ethereal charisma. 10/10
Viz
The promos feature a shirtless young man grasping for meaning, through the regal motifs of purple and crowns. Which, is fine, for the literal “plot” of the musical. But this is a show that thrives on how the director shapes the vibes. To me, if your Pippin doesn’t feel like Studio 666 when you enter, I’m going to have some serious questions.
No need to worry about that here, though. The suffocating indigo fog transforms the MAX theatre into a neon gothic discotheque, with its central mirror platform irradiating details from above and within. It doesn’t feel otherworldly. But it doesn’t feel homely, either. You’re in some sort of Brechtian purgatory that barely feels escapable. There’s so much excitement within it, though, why would you feel Iike trying? 10/10
Verdict
Signature’s Pippin is a feat of integrated theatrical excellence that explodes with verve and style, showcasing a deft ensemble full of locals at the top of their game. 40/40
