TV critics recognize when they’re suckers for a pilot, and for me, that was “Smash.” Show within a show: check. Anjelica Huston: check. Martinis splashed in faces, dancers giving side-eye, heels clicking in midtown: check, check, check. I caught the NBC pilot last fall, before it had passed through a full cycle of pre-buzz and pre-backlash, but even then I knew that as a fan of musicals on TV—co-dependently caught up on “Glee,” Dr. Horrible’s Singalong Blog on my iPhone, and secretly delighted by reality’s embrace of ballroom dancing—I was an easy lay.
So just to establish my bona fides, I will state the show’s flaws up front, with a grim harrumph. “Smash” may be a risky bid for NBC, but it’s very clearly a network series, with more gloss than grit. Despite the show’s Theatre Row cred—it was created by the playwright Theresa Rebeck and songwriter Marc Shaiman, among others—we’re not talking about “All That Jazz.” We’re also not talking about “Slings & Arrows,” the single best TV show about theater ever made. (It’s a Canadian series; it’s on Netflix; please go rent it right now.) Instead, “Smash” is more like “The Devil Wears Capezio,” produced by Steven Spielberg, with aspirational apartments and a brunette tempted by Gotham ambition.
Also, there is one major plot point that doesn’t work at all. While Debra Messing is charming as a workaholic Broadway composer, her character’s attempt to adopt makes no sense. (She’s going to take a full year off? Her husband is a stay-at-home dad to their high-school-aged son? That son is dying for a baby sibling?) Even if that story didn’t have gaps in logic, it would be a drag, the sort of subplot a pro like Messing’s character would surely chop from her own production.
But now that we’ve got that over with… well, I’m so in. The basic setup is catnip for theatre geeks: two Broadway songwriters (Debra Messing and Christian Borle) collaborate with a manipulative, Black-Swannish, British director-choreographer, played by the delightful Jack Davenport. Their new project is a musical about Marilyn Monroe, produced by Angelica Huston, who is in the midst of a rancorous divorce from a Broadway macher. Meanwhile, two actresses compete to play Marilyn: gimlet-eyed Megan Hilty (of “Wicked”) versus virgin-Pina-Colada-eyed Katharine McPhee (of “American Idol”). There are seductions and there are auditions. There are seductions during auditions; there are auditions during seductions. There are also some excellent original songs, plus karaoke to fill the gaps. Every once in a while there’s something fantastically fun, like a spontaneous dance number in the middle of a big Hollywood loft party (a few episodes in—I’ve seen four), or sassy chorus members teaching a new girl how to blend in.
I could take issue with the way they talk about Monroe (“There was something about her, how much she wanted to love and be loved”), but that’s part of the fun: arguing with the vision of the show as well as the show within the show (and possibly the show outside the show, if Spielberg’s plan to do an actual theatre production pans out). Megan Hilty makes the ideal baby diva, at once playing the system and getting played: sharp, funny, sexy, complex. McPhee is not quite as good an actress, but she’s appealing, and in later episodes there are some terrific additions, including Broadway star Will Chase as Broadway star Michael Swift. (Other insiders show up, too, but I think the show will play outside the Angus McIndoe set.)
Even before airing, “Smash” has been divisive: it’s bound to annoy some viewers, either because they’re not into musical theatre or because they’re too into it. But for me, and I hope for others (since I want the thing to survive through “Marilyn“’s opening night), “Smash” does a very satisfying job of merging the pleasures of “American Idol” and commercial Broadway, placing the “hummable melody” dead center and prioritizing fun over absolute authenticity. And when the show does get at something deeper, bolder—or has a musical scene as stirring as the final sequence of the pilot? Well, that’s just gravy.
Photograph by Mark Seliger/NBCUniversal.