Crying at 'The Notebook' (for Reasons I Did Not Expect)
I now understand why they sell $5 tissue boxes at the theater.
I have never been in a theater with so much sniffling and crying than when I was at “The Notebook.” Yet as my glasses were foggy and my mask became a bit soggy, it wasn’t necessarily the production that made me feel that way. Instead, “The Notebook” is strong in its story, not in this version of its storytelling.
The musical version of the famous romance “The Notebook,” which I saw on Broadway recently, splits the show’s main couple, Allie and Noah, into three different versions: younger, middle, and older. Each version is played by a different actor, and even though there’s no consistency in how these characters look — the show has interracial casting — it’s never confusing, and even more universal. All of the Allies wear blue, and the Noahs wear brown; from the get go, the actors mirror each other’s choreography.
We start with the oldest version of the couple in a nursing home, where older Noah (Dorian Harewood) is reading from a notebook to a confused older Allie (Maryann Plunkett), who has dementia. It’s clear that the notebook tells the story of their love, but older Allie can’t remember it. As older Noah reads, younger and middle Allie and Noah float on stage and act out the scenes.
The musical’s splitting of each couple unfortunately gives way to comparison, where two couples fall short. Younger and middle Allie and Noah’s stories fade into clichés and desires. It is hard to believe younger Allie (Jordan Tyson) and younger Noah (John Cardoza) are so passionately in love; while their back-and-forths are cute and quippy, they’re not any indication of a deeper, lifelong love. When they’re forced to be apart because of Allie’s parents, we feel no remorse or despair.
Perhaps this is because “The Notebook” is a beloved franchise, and those familiar with it know it all ends well; we’re already bought in on their love, so there’s no need to really convince us. It’s also because, at the end of younger Allie and Noah’s tale, their story gets reduced into silly lines and physicality. I stifled a laugh when they have sex for the first time, in what’s supposed to be a pivotal scene in their relationship: “Then I see his eyes looking at me / not my breasts or my thighs,” younger Allie sings.
This is where “The Notebook” doesn’t defend its new musical form. While Ingird Michaelson’s score is pretty and flowery, the lyrics do little to express any heartbreaking emotion. For a show about big feelings, we rarely hear any show-stopping numbers; instead, the sound is quiet and underwhelming. The lyrics are more poetic generalizations than specific, heart wrenching declarations.
The middle couple isn’t much improved. Allie and Noah reunite a decade later, but middle Allie (Joy Woods) is engaged to someone else. Again, there is no doubt in our minds that this won’t work out — there’s absolutely nothing that makes us think Allie has any reason not to go with middle Noah (Ryan Vasquez), because we don’t know anything about what’s happened in her life in the last ten years, or have any real connection to her financé. When the couple reunites, it’s less about their love than their passion. While that makes for a very beautiful kissing scene featuring the iconic downpour (yes, rain on stage!), we’re far less invested in their love story and their characters.
And although the music picks up its power here — and we’re treated to a beautiful, stunning performance by Woods — the lyrics again fall flat. This is supposed to be the turning point in Allie and Noah’s relationship, where Allie chooses whether or not to leave her life and be with Noah, and she’s singing: “Only I can choose my choice.”
Instead, the splitting of each couple works most effectively as it enhances the oldest version of the couple. That’s the part that made me (and literally every audience member around me) shed a tear. Harewood as older Noah is resilient, determined, and Plunkett as older Allie is devastatingly unsure and angry. In a particularly frustrating moment for Allie, as she’s trying to remember her life, younger and middle Allie follow her, singing in harmony. “I am still in here / I’m waiting for you / to come let me out, dear” they beg, while older Allie chases them around the stage, unable to capture them. It is heartbreaking to watch older Allie unable to stop her life from slipping away, and older Noah to watch the love of his life unable to remember their love.
This focus on the older couple allows for us to shift our perspective on this powerhouse romance to themes about life and death, memory, legacy, and when you lose people you love. While this undercuts the initial parts of the romance, it brings heavy emotion, and many, many tears when we see the older couple on stage.
So even while “The Notebook” may not defend its new musical form, it’s a story that earns its right to be told again. I wonder how much more we’d cry if the production fully gave new life to it.
Thank you for reading! “The Notebook” is selling tickets through November. If you’re interested in going, here’s a bit more on how I ended up sobbing with everyone in the theater:
How I found out about it: This show had a really well-received run in Chicago before coming to Broadway, and my Twitter and Instagram feeds were all abuzz when the show came to Broadway.
Why I went: I’m usually wary of books that become movies that become musicals…but the online buzz from Chicago, the Broadway transfer, and friends was convincing, and I was curious how Ingrid Michaelson’s score would sound. When the negative Broadway reviews came out, I was even more fueled — there was a lot of discourse about how the reviews were just bad because the reviewers were mostly men. I wanted to see it for myself and form my own opinion.
How I got tickets: The lottery! I entered for a single ticket (instead of a pair), which may have helped. You can enter the Telecharge lottery for every performance. They also do an in-person rush at the box office.