There’s an attractive synergy to a work which marries the music of the folk rock band The Avett Brothers to the story of the Mignonette, an English yacht which sank in 1884, leading three of its lifeboat-stranded survivors to kill and eat the fourth member of their party in an incident which prompted a now-landmark legal precedent. Added to the perennially shaggy John Gallagher, Jr. and a recent online obsession with sea shanties, it would appear Swept Away, a new musical based on this tale which opened tonight at the Longacre, had a recipe for success. So then why does it feel so… adrift?

The book, by John Logan, is more conflicted with itself than any of its characters. Though Gallagher’s character, listed as “Mate” in the program, is introduced at the top of the show as a man haunted by his past, he is not fleshed into a recognizable lead. (This is not the fault of Gallagher, who sounds terrific and does as best he can with the material.) Following that brief prologue, he playfully grouses about his hard-luck maritime life on the deck of a ship about to sail out of Massachusetts, under the leadership of its no-nonsense captain (Wayne Duvall). Aboard comes a chipper young lad (Adrian Blake Enscoe, listed as “Little Brother”) looking to escape rural life, chased by a pious older brother (Stark Sands) trying to convince him of the virtues of humble homesteading. A siblinghood forged in whining, they’re quickly roped into the voyage and just as soon start feuding with Mate, who gleefully mocks their desire to lead the other men in prayer.

Mate is always joking around, smirking at his fellow seamen or attempting punchlines on the audience, and it’s never exactly clear what drives this joy. He marks himself a loner, with nothing holding him to the mainland, and Michael Mayer’s similarly unmoored direction doesn’t establish whether characters are speaking to each other, beyond the fourth wall, or merely talking to themselves. It’s all a bundle of proclamations delivered with the smugness of men who’ve chosen preposterously difficult lives and don’t miss an opportunity to remark upon their toughness. If there were private, social, or economic forces driving any of them towards a life at sea, Logan’s book does not explore them.

Instead, Swept Away relies on the Avett Brothers’ music to fill in these gaps, mostly taken from their 2004 album Mignonette, along with others from their catalogue. Though the songs are tuneful and work well in the show’s milieu, they are far from character-defining or moving the story along, something for which the Avetts cannot be faulted. The score comprises mostly ballads – about their women back on land, about the sea, about their love of god – and it’s hard to care about any of them when so little else is known about the sailors. Logan interweaves numbers without clear definition, and songs are often interrupted by book scenes or shifts in their own melody.

It is at its midpoint, when the storm that sinks the ship hits, that the production reaches its theatrical heights. In a truly impressive transition, Rachel Hauck’s set, aided by Kevin Adams’ lighting and John Shivers’ sound design, spectacularly gives way to the lifeboat on which these four men will spend the second half of the show. More tightly focused, sans the ensemble of shipmates, the characters come into starker relief. But darkness creeps into Mate’s eyes without much build, and though an argument is inevitably had over his proposed cannibalizing, it is far too pat to carry any emotional weight, or really land as a dramatic moment. (In a confounding sequence, he reminds the others he is alone in the world, then asks the audience what they’d do to survive in order to see their loved ones again.) The forces which drive a man to his basest survival instincts would make for compelling theatre but, again, the musical keeps insight at bay. It barrels towards its conclusion, never stopping to investigate itself, and drifts away just as carelessly.

As with Tammy Faye, another new musical this season which today announced its closing, Swept Away a musical cursed by the finality of the Broadway premiere. A few more workshops to iron out a problematic book and it really could work; its elements brought together under a firmer directorial hand. The Avett Brothers’ music, with their specific sound and sense of down-home longing, seem ideal for a theatrical adaptation, but it’s a shame it’s left at sea by a book with no clear navigation, flailing its arms for rescue.

Swept Away is in performance at the Longacre Theatre on West 48th St in New York City. For tickets and more information, visit here.

Several years ago, when a partner at the time learned that I had somehow never seen Wicked on stage (still haven’t), he responded to this revelation by pulling up the show’s Wikipedia page and reading the full plot description aloud—beat by beat, plot point by plot point—so that I might understand just how insane the narrative of Wicked actually is.

Indeed it is—totally, completely bonkers. A quick listen of the cast recording will not clue you in, for instance, on how central the rounding-up and imprisonment of sentient animals is to the show’s narrative. Nor would it indicate the pointed exploration of power, corruption and fascistic propaganda that sits at the heart of this surprisingly political tale. We won’t even delve into the second act’s wild twists and turns. 

Not here at least, as here we’re talking about Wicked: Part One, the first installment of director Jon M. Chu’s big-budget screen adaptation of the long-running Broadway smash. Tasked with building out the intricate world of Oz while still keeping a central focus on the musical’s heart, the unlikely friendship between Elphaba (later the green-skinned “Wicked Witch of the West”) and Galinda (“Glinda the Good”), Chu has opted to split the story into two parts so all these disparate elements might find some room to breathe. 

It’s a big bet—and a mixed success. In terms of lending complexity and nuance to Elphaba and Glinda’s connection, the two-part gambit is a resounding triumph. But for the ensemble players and Chu’s attempts to build a larger milieu around them, the results prove decidedly more mixed.

Starting with the great (and powerful): stars Ariana Grande and Cynthia Erivo are both tremendous, each bringing a rich complexity and surprising warmth to two familiar characters. The challenge is huge—these are roles that can easily slide into caricature, both closely identified with their Broadway originators Kristin Chenoweth and Idina Menzel. Erivo and Grande somehow manage to find fresh takes; the loving bond that develops between the two has a lived-in authenticity. 

Grande is especially impressive, toeing the line between Glinda’s surface self-absorption and deeper sensitivity with precision. If Erivo gets a little less nuance to play with, that’s more a problem of the material. Both show off astonishing vocals throughout, though Erivo’s riffs can be distracting at more emotional moments.

Screenwriters Winnie Holzman and Dana Fox, drawing from Holzman’s musical book, mostly devote their extra narrative space (a lot of it, at an excessive 2 hour and 40 minute running time) to their central duo. For our ensemble players, that imbalance isn’t ideal. 

Perhaps this problem is inevitable, since the roguish Fiyero (Jonathan Bailey), nerdy munchkin Boq (Ethan Slater) and Elphaba’s sweetly sister Nessarose (Marissa Bode) get more to do in the show’s second act. But the film’s extraordinary length could have provided room to flesh them out a bit more. Boq and Nessa feel barely present, while Fiyero takes ages to even show up on screen at all. 

Once Bailey does ride in, the tremendously talented heartthrob feels underused and ultimately miscast—for all his charm, the man is simply too old to sell “Dancing Through Life,” a paean to youthful abandon. Slater and Bode are both likable as Boq and Nessa; Michelle Yeoh makes up for a weak singing voice with her undeniable presence as the magisterial Madame Morrible; and Jeff Goldblum is perfectly cast as The Wizard, sweetly with just the right touch of menace.

Sadly, the internet’s concerns about Chu’s visual approach prove warranted. Despite lavish sets and evident attention to detail, too many shots look flat and washed-out (in the manner of so many Hollywood products these days, Marvel films most especially).  A few sequences do stand out, such as a sublime introduction to the glittering Emerald City. For that sequence, Chu lets a single shot actually run for a while as he guides us through the chaos. But most scenes are overloaded with cuts, rarely lingering long enough to allow a good look at Christopher Scott’s vibrant choreography.

The world of Oz also feels a little small, as a whole. A sequence at the Ozdust Ballroom expands our world a little bit, but I wished for more in this regard. And the less said about the film’s CGI animals, most of them character-less blobs, the better. 

It is arguably unfair to hold any movie up against the original 1939 classic Wizard of Oz, a timeless masterpiece. Yet in watching Wicked: Part One, it is hard not to sadly recall that film’s formal inventiveness and visual splendor. This film is well-done, a pleasing popcorn flick with two excellent performances at its center. Yet it ultimately suffers from bland visual, video-game CGI and an absence of unique, truly distinctive creative vision. It’s a Wicked for our times, for ill and for good. 

Wicked: Part One hits theatres nationwide on Friday, November 22.