‘Curious Case of Benjamin Button’ review: A gentle, folky musical that wants to go to Broadway

Just as Benjamin Button ages from senior citizen to child, the new musical “The Curious Case of Benjamin Button” also begins unrecognizably where it ultimately ends. From boring to beautiful.

This drastic reversal might be because his style, folksy, verbose Paul Bunyan-style exposition in overenthusiastic group songs, takes some getting used to. But truth be told, this often confusing and self-satisfied aspect of myself has never invaded me.

The sweet London show with a new American cast that opened Wednesday night at the Public Theater with Broadway aspirations improves, and stunningly so, in the second half when many of the supporting characters and story theater scenarios are gripped by anger and its wealthy romantic leads are allowed to live and breathe more freely and honestly.

They are Benjamin, played from the grave to the womb by Andrew Durand, and his lifelong love, Elowen, played earthily by Kelsee Kimmel.

This pair of actors and their sincere passion, which radiates a genuine love for each other rather than its jumpy theatrical suggestion, are the greatest asset of “Button” and reason enough to recommend this very heartfelt show.

But it takes a while for the material and director Jethro Compton’s production to settle down and find that focus.

Most are familiar with F. Scott Fitzgerald’s short story from David Fincher’s 2008 film starring Brad Pitt. Composer Darren Clark and writer Compton (both co-authors of the lyrics) moved the action from Baltimore in the United States to the coast of Cornwall, England, and changed the starting point from 1860 to 1918.

It’s smart. On the one hand, during the First World War, millions of British children lost their fathers. The children had to grow up quickly – much like Benjamin. And then there is the sad and happy acoustic pub music of this era, which makes up this lush score with Celtic accents. But more importantly, what could be more surreal than Britain recovering from a world war that devastated an entire generation of young men while only two decades away from finding itself embroiled in another?

Well, how about a baby born at 70?

This is Benjamin, who is already an old man capable of speaking and reading and who even arrived with a pair of glasses. Fortunately, this is the only plot point that the musical doesn’t attempt to explain.

But this quickly introduces an undercurrent of darkness. Benjamin’s mother, Mary (Sachiko Mae), hates that she gave birth to what she believes to be a freak of nature. Doubling down, she sings an almost laughable moody song comparing her baby to the Kraken, a giant squid that drags ships into the watery depths. Ouch! Mary makes Joan Crawford look like Maria von Trapp. And his father Roger (Brandon J. Ellis) is angry with his son for what his wife is doing to herself.

As the years and wrinkles fade, Benjamin must find inspiration to be optimistic, as he cheerfully sings in the musical’s best song, “A Little Life.” The music is still pretty and transporting, even if a little repetitive.

Her #1 reason for being turns out to be local bartender Elowen. He’s 55 (sort of) and she’s 25. Uh oh! Since it’s 2026, she gives a speech about why mid-fifties is the ideal age for a man. Public donors will be delighted.

The two fall in love and consider leaving town – only parental interference keeps them apart for years.

The other difficulty with the first act, and the reason there’s so much narration, is that there’s a lot going on. Benjamin starts at 70 and ends the first half at 44. He went to sea for a decade and joined the Royal Navy during the Second World War. The entire shows were far less than one of these.

The sea voyage and oceanside setting are taken advantage of by the Compton set (this guy is a real Jeth in every way), which looks like a sunken fishing boat. Small buoys floating above the scene light up to become celestial bodies at night. But more than anything, it speaks to the 2010s trend on Broadway, hip little analog shows that seem to take place in dank old pubs, like “Once” and “Hadestown.”

Likewise, Anna Kelsey’s costumes both nod to the era and make the actors feel like they’re working in an ethical butcher shop in Red Hook.

This cool ensemble of actor-musicians play the score well and sing wonderfully, but I had a hard time keeping true to the many characters they portray over the first 90 minutes.

And then the tide of act two arrives, and the series becomes less a series of wild events and a direct reference to “time” and a more mature reflection on loss and the way we willingly waste so much of our lives.

Durand and Kimmel are sublimely romantic in the second part, and not in the sense prescribed by musical theater. Maybe it’s because these aren’t typical romantic leads. What they do is grounded and palpable.

Unlike Durand, who is just Benjamin all night, Kimmel plays many roles, including a sheep (see, this kind of stuff eats me up). But I noticed that after some particularly emotional numbers, or scenes in which Elowen confronts Benjamin, she wouldn’t come off easily and fall in line with the rest of the cast. These feelings would persist.

His commitment and his alchemy with Durand make the musical. And him too. The actor’s career has been fun and strange to follow. Mostly, he can be found in over-the-top comedies, such as “The Robber Bridgeroom,” the Go-Gos series “Head Over Heels” and the cheesy “Shucked.” But during last season’s “Dead Outlaw” — in which he was essentially typecast as a corpse — Durand sang a serene song called “Normal” that made me want to see more of his dramatic talents.

Wondrous Durand fulfills this desire. He has a fascinating face that allows him to play a baby and an old man here without having to overdo it, which could easily happen with a broad, silly storyline like this. He has an ease, a lightness and a casual wisdom that contrasts with the cacophony around him. And the actor is intensely moving towards the end as Benjamin achieves her realization of Emily Webb in “Our Town” as a fifty-year-old in the body of a young man.

“Who knows how much time you have left?” “, he says to his son, who is now the same biological age. “Don’t waste a second.”

And then the sad inevitable happens. Ashes to ashes, we at home.