DANIEL TOBIAS

REVIEW OF TITANIQUE

I saw Titanique several months ago and had…thoughts. But right around that time, the U.S. underwent a full-on regime change, and suddenly, fascism wasn’t even bothering with a disguise anymore. So I shelved my review. At that moment, it felt like New York’s need for laughter far outweighed my urge to critique a Céline Dion parody musical.

But now that Titanique has sailed away to Europe, why am I releasing it? Because New York theater is still (miraculously) free from fascism. And until it isn’t, I’d like to exercise my sacred right to overanalyze a Céline Dion spoof. 😉

I LOVE comedy. In an era where every new play seems desperate to double as a public service announcement dutifully reinforcing the anxiety its social issue already drowns us in, it is a rare relief to encounter something with no agenda beyond actually being entertaining. Imagine that. For this alone, it is sad to know that Titanique played its final performance at the end of June. Titanique became beloved by audiences. And I give a full and loud applause to its creative team - particularly to co-authors Marla Mindelle and Constantine Rousouli.

Titanique powered into its Off-Broadway run with undeniable energy, powerhouse voices, polished production values, and a concept that’s equal parts parody and pop concert. Audience were laughing deliriously all around me, and yet…forgive me Marla and Constantine…I recall not not laughing as hard as the rest of the audience. Why? Oh, I remember. I was sober.

Somewhere between its iceberg of potential and its life-jacket of Provincetown camp, the show couldn’t quite decide whether to trust its audience…or infantilize us. At its best, Titanique conjured comedy gold by playing things straight. Not “straight” as in hetero (this is the gayest show in Manhattan, Oh, Mary! included!), but straight as in sincere: characters believing in the stakes of their absurd world, while we get to interpret the irony. When I saw Titanique, Sara Gallo played Celine Dion as the earnest, self-mythologizing diva who genuinely believed she was aboard the Titanic. Brilliant. Ridiculous, yes, but enough fuel in its premise to launch this show from its port. That moment Gallo improvised Jack and Rose’s backstory as if she’s trying to remember it live on stage? Genius. Why? Because she believed. Celine doesn’t know she’s funny. She just is. Comedy gold.

Unfortunately, Titanique too often traded gold for fools gold. Wit for winks. Instead of staying grounded in the show’s ludicrous logic, many moments go full cartoon. Take Celine interrupting Jack and Rose’s romantic duet. It could’ve been a fantastic setup: Celine thrusts herself between two lovers, unaware of her obtrusiveness, lost in her own emotional performance of a song. However, instead, it seemed Gallo was directed to perform this moment knowing she’s interrupting. She was directed to break character for the joke. It’s less comic acting and more sketch comedy mugging…when the payoff could have been so much more. I chuckled, but I didn’t belly-laugh.

This wasted opportunity cropped up too much to ignore: jokes telegraphed, lines delivered for the punch instead of the circumstance. When Rose threatens to jump off the ship and Jack asks, “Because of your hair?”, the line is smartly written…but poorly played. The actors rushed the patter, anticipating the payoff to the extent that we had no opportunity to be surprised and delighted. The actors showed us they knew it’s a punchline rather than living the moment. The result? It landed with polite laughter. It should have been riotous. We felt like we were watching actors try to be funny instead of characters being funny. To be fair, this is often symptomatic of ANY comedy that’s been performed too often without a director snapping them back into the joy of spontaneity and discovery. The actors become too familiar with the laugh lines and incrementally start anticipating them, which robs them of their spontaneous punch, so then the actors start forcing them to capture the audience again...and so on. When I saw the show, it was obvious Titanique had drifted into this eddy in far too many places.

The most successful comic moments came from character integrity. Jack sketching stick-figure cats with utter conviction. Rose’s pixelated bra remaining pixelated with zero acknowledgement. These work because the characters are unaware of the absurdity. The audience gets to interpret the ridiculousness, not be told to laugh at it. The show’s worst offender in this respect is the captain’s Fire Island number. When I saw the show, Andrew Keenan-Bolger played the captain. He was directed to devolve from seafaring authority to circuit party caricature. Not in a layered, closeted-authority figure kind of way. He was obviously directed to chase the laugh with all the zaniness of an Animaniac. A much funnier creative choice would’ve been to watch the captain try to suppress his desire to reach the White Party, only to lose the battle, speed up the Titanic, and doom them all. That’d be compelling comedy with suspense, layers, subtext, wit, escalation and authentic belly-laughs. Instead, we get Provincetown sketch material wrapped in Broadway-caliber effort.

Even Lea DeLaria’s turn as Rose’s conservative mother suffered from this schism. Casting a tough, tatted-up queer icon as a Victorian matron had ENDLESS comedic potential. But did the script lean into that built-in contrast? Nope. Instead, DeLaria’s funniest moment came when she abandoned the script altogether to ad-lib about titanium knees. We laughed because it was Lea DeLaria, not because it was a conservative Ruth Dewitt Bukater with irrepressible butch-lesbian subtext. For all of us lucky enough to see Lea in POTUS, we remember how she stole the show every second she was on stage. This was because that director knew comedy came from the characters’ utter belief and commitment to the imaginary circumstances. But in Titanique…ugh, the lost opportunity made my playwright’s heart ache!

Nonetheless, there were flashes of light throughout. The songs, when played sincerely, soared. Gosh, what great singers were on stage! The performers, especially Gallo, were tireless and talented, sprinting through the script like Olympians. And that’s no small feat: Titanique is essentially an obstacle course of musical comedy chaos. The actors earned their applause. They deserved it. However, to be clear, this was chaos straining to be funny…not farce. In farce we are firmly in the grip of tightly constructed plot lines that converge to reach a level of insanity that get us laughing until we can hardly breathe while marveling at the how everything fits together so brilliantly. This, instead, was a whole lot of craziness thrown into a blender. As a result, the show wobbled between two identities. A self-aware camp sketch for tourists looking to drink and laugh at dildo jokes? Or an off-Broadway parody that trusts its premise enough to treat us like intelligent theatergoers? Right now, it tries to be both. And in doing so, it undercut its own strength.

We New Yorkers are sophisticated audiences. We know when something is funny because it’s earned. And while we’ll always support hard-working performers running a marathon on stage, we also crave work that respects our intelligence and imagination. With a clearer creative vision and a bit more trust in the audience, Titanique could have been a true comic gem. For now, it largely goes for cheap laughs from an audience expected to be tipsy and to check any elevated expectations at the door. Yet…it ran for years. And it just opened in the West End. To me, this shows Titanique is successful, not great. I think Oh, Mary! is evidence comedy can be campy and ludicrous without sacrificing intelligence. There’s absolutely a place for scrappy, Provincetown-style camp: the kind that caters to rowdy, inebriated crowds. And I’ve been to that place many times, gladly. But when the performers onstage are so gifted that every one of them could (and should) be on Broadway, my expectations shift. I start wanting material that rises to meet their talent. Laughter can be a lifeline - and we NEED this lifeline - but that doesn’t mean everything that tries to make us laugh gets a free pass.

If you’re traveling to London, should you see it? Yes. Hardworking actors should always be demonstrably appreciated. And despite my nitpicking, there were moments of deliriously sustained laughter. And honestly, after a 50-hour work week and a constantly dismal news cycle, most of us would clap for a well-lit PowerPoint if it sang, wouldn’t we?