NEW YORK − Why use a defibrillator when you have “
Dead Outlaw
”?
David Yazbek
His most recent curiosity, which debuted on April 27 at the Longacre Theatre, is an irreverent, strikingly delightful, what-the-heck musical; one of those remarkable achievements that are bizarre yet deeply insightful, capable of restoring your belief in Broadway.
That’s quite a lengthy description for a film where the main character keeps his mouth sealed shut inside a coffin for half of its 100-minute duration. Yet, this is precisely what makes it brilliant. “Dead Outlaw” is inspired by an actual event.
unbelievable true story
of
Elmer McCurdy
(Andrew Durand), an awkwardly incompetent train robber born in 1880, passed away in 1911 and was laid to rest in 1977.
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Following his shooting by law enforcement, McCurdy’s remains were left unclaimed in an Oklahoma mortuary for several months. Preserved using large quantities of arsenic, he was ultimately placed on exhibit for the public, with spectators paying a quarter each to see what became known as the “
outlaw who refused to surrender
.”
However, McCurdy’s tale did not conclude there. Over several decades, his preserved body was transferred and resold multiple times, making appearances in various traveling carnivals, wax museums, and even exploitation films until finally ending up at an amusement park in Long Beach, California. There, they displayed McCurdy’s body with a flamboyant red paint job inside a haunted attraction. The chilling account of discovering and identifying his remains is disclosed early on in the performance, as it follows his dramatic descent from aspiring Jesse James figure to forgotten remnants.
Dead Outlaw,” masterfully helmed by director David Cromer, features striking lighting designed by Heather Gilbert, complemented by quirky, folksy set designs courtesy of Arnulfo Maldonado. The story unfolds much like an enthralling campfire yarn, propelled by a six-member ensemble headed by the ruggedly charismatic Jeb Brown. This group churns out a whirlwind of catchy tunes infused with mandolins and banjos, ranging from McCurdy’s fierce anthem “Killed a Man in Maine” to the seductive heist ballad “Indian Train.
The dynamic soundtrack, crafted by Yazbeck and Erik Della Penna, embodies unadulterated Americana, yet it also carries the intense rock vibe of ”
Passing Strange
and the sharp, witty pleasures of ”
Little Shop of Horrors
In “Up to the Stars,” a coroner (Thom Sesma) sings in a Dean Martin-esque style from atop his autopsy table, contemplating how every dramatic death ultimately boils down to forensic pathology.
In the bittersweet “Millicent’s Song,” a teenage outcast (played brilliantly by Julia Knitel) shares her adolescent anxieties and desires with the unresponsive McCurdy, left in her living room by her director father. Just before leaving home, this young woman expresses an unexpected jealousy towards the troublesome creature: “You can remain unchanged / and I wish I could do the same / growing up isn’t as simple as it appears.”
Durand delivers the most indelible performance of the season as McCurdy: motionless, flat-eyed and unblinking as he stands upright in a wooden coffin for much of the show, reduced to a rifle-toting rag doll. It’s a mind-blowing physical feat, to be clear, but he also imbues the tetchy character with a potent, devastating undercurrent.
As envisioned by playwright Itamar Moses in his insightful yet compassionate novel, McCurdy yearned to leave an imprint on the world, but he lacked both the luck and abilities needed for significant accomplishment. The stark truth is that few among us are meant to be celebrated or recalled, making it hard not to feel sorry for this deceased underdog, who is repeatedly cast aside like a minor curiosity.
Once the clock hits zero, what we genuinely aspire to achieve and rightfully merit is nothing more than tranquility. This sense of helplessness, coupled with sorrow, is hauntingly depicted through Durand’s rigid, frigid palms.
In the striking “Dead Outlaw,” death is commercialized and trivialized; an grim reality hammered into us time and again through the music. (“Your pals are gone / your canine too / and you as well,” Brown snarls during the witty, reference-filled ending.) Yet by meeting our somber mortality head-on with humor and melody, McCurdy’s electrifying, heart-pounding rendition makes each of us feel even more vividly alive.
“Dead Outlaw” is currently showing at the Longacre Theatre (220 W. 48th)
th
St.).
The article initially appeared on USA TODAY:
‘Review of “Dead Outlaw”: Bizarre True Story Comes Alive Through Transcendent Mummy Musical’
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