Review: Chess

Nearly forty years since its notoriously short and troubled original Broadway run, Chess is back in its first revival. With music by ABBA’s Benny Andersson and Björn Ulvaeus and lyrics by Ulvaeus and the legendary Tim Rice, the musical has long struggled under the weight of its dense, multi-layered Cold War plot, undergoing numerous revisions since its London premiere in 1986. As strong as the score remains, the book (in the versions that feature one at all) has consistently been the show’s weakest link, failing to guide audiences through the story. So when it was announced last spring that Chess would finally make its long-awaited Broadway return with an all-star cast of theatrical royalty and a newly revised book by actor and screenwriter Danny Strong, fans were thrilled, hoping this might finally be the production with the necessary elements to bring Chess out of its stalemate. Unfortunately, this is by no means a definitive version of the show—or even a particularly good one.

Company of Chess

The score has always been the heart of Chess and its most recognizable element. Before it was ever staged, Chess was released as a concept album, and multiple songs, most famously “One Night in Bangkok,” became chart-topping hits, proving the sheer strength of the music alone. With revised orchestrations by Brian Usifer and a large onstage orchestra under the direction of Ian Weinberger, the beauty of the music shone through behind world-class voices. This production features a brand-new overture—a perfect start to the show, setting the stage for the fantastic music that will carry through the rest of the performance. Directed by Michael Mayer, the minimalist, concert-esque staging brings the score to the forefront of the production, highlighting the showpiece of this rarely heard masterpiece, rather than hiding it behind flashy sets and other technical elements. Aside from a screen that flies in now and then and a bed that rises out of the stage for one song, David Rockwell’s set is a simple series of raised platforms on which the orchestra is positioned. The actors perform atop the platforms, while a few movable couches—often occupied by the ensemble—frame the action. The flashiest technical element of the show is certainly Kevin Adams’ lighting design—bright, evocative, and above all else, incredibly colorful. Being a semi-concert production, the lighting had the leeway to be slightly more abstract, as it was not beholden to a specific physical location. Adams indeed ran with that, building some truly striking visuals.  

The set and orchestra of Chess

Chess has always had an issue with its book. When it premiered in London, Tim Rice received credit, but it was very minimal as the production was nearly entirely sung through. However, when it crossed the pond, Richard Nelson was asked to write a new script for the Broadway transfer, which aimed to address some of the issues that arose from the confusing plot. Nelson’s book did not stand the test of time, and for the past few decades, multiple people have revised it. Now, its newest edition has arrived, and Danny Strong has taken this show and transformed it into something barely recognizable and something that Chess is not: a musical comedy.

Strong’s attempt to streamline the plot and add contemporary humor is understandable—Chess has always been notoriously difficult to adapt—but the execution often undermines the material’s emotional core. The book leans far too heavily into comedy, incorporating a series of jokes referencing the current American political scene and making numerous meta-theatrical asides that break immersion—a poor writing choice. Strong expands the role of The Arbiter, using him as a narrator to guide the audience through the complicated plot in addition to his traditional function as a no-nonsense chess official. He consistently breaks the fourth wall, speaking directly to the audience, and unfortunately, it just makes the writing seem overly pandering towards the audience. 

Perhaps the most significant weakness of the book is its inability to dwell in the show’s profound moments. Too many of the most dramatic and somber moments were cut short by a character cracking ill-timed jokes that undercut the emotional impact of Chess’s  inherent drama. Used multiple times, confoundingly, to lighten a situation, Freddie’s depression and Anatoly’s struggles with suicidal thoughts were continuously referenced throughout the first act, with the audience responding with uncomfortable laughter because the placement and nature of those jokes often came across as insensitive. Through unfocused dialogue, a comedy-driven tone that often clashes with the material, and several choices that distance the piece from its dramatic roots, Danny Strong’s new book ultimately fails to resolve Chess’s long-standing structural issues.

The ensemble of Chess

Aside from the writing itself, Strong and Mayer have reorganized the song order to fit the new plot, and while most changes are effective—“Difficult and Dangerous Times” makes for a strong opening, though “Merano” feels oddly placed—the finale takes a puzzling turn. Strong weaves Cold War politics into the story through Molokov and Walter, whose manipulations push both the CIA and KGB to pressure Anatoly into losing the final match, yet when he wins, the expected geopolitical fallout never materializes, and he simply returns home with his family. Even more surprisingly, Florence is reunited with her long-imprisoned father, shifting her arc from one defined by loss and moral ambiguity to a more conventional personal victory. Instead of the traditional reprise of “Anthem,” the show ends with The Arbiter singing the opening of “The Story of Chess,” a moment that never fully develops and ultimately softens the dramatic impact that usually defines Chess’s final beat.

While the book may be lacking, the cast singing the sophisticated score is world-class. Leading this revival are three Broadway veterans: breakout star Nicholas Christopher, and Broadway favorites Lea Michele and Tony winner Aaron Tveit, who play the central trio. As Russian grandmaster Anatoly Sergievsky, Christopher’s high baritone matches the richness of his material, and he delivers some of the vocal highlights of the night, especially his option-up at the end of “Endgame.” However, his standout moment is “Anthem,” Anatoly’s internal battle of love vs. home at the end of Act I. Already a powerful song, Christopher’s incredible vocals and evident passion take the song to new heights. Perhaps the only critique of his performance would be his Russian accent, which, while a valiant effort, sometimes made his dialogue difficult to understand. 

Aaron Tveit, Lea Michele, and Nicholas Christopher

Playing Freddie Trumper, the pompous, egomaniacal, yet deeply human, American chess champion, Aaron Tveit makes some of the highest and hardest male material seem like a walk in the park. “Pity the Child” was flawless, but in addition to the vocals, his acting revealed new depths to Freddie. Tveit portrayed Freddie’s debilitating depression and energetic narcissism with frightening precision, endearing the audience to a character who is portrayed as the antagonist in most previous productions. 

Completing the central trio, Lea Michele pours her heart and soul into Florence’s material throughout, delivering one of the most impressive and emotionally devastating performances in recent memory. Her renditions of “Nobody’s Side” and “Someone Else’s Story” are two of the biggest highlights of the show, once again proving that she is one of her generation’s most celebrated talents. Her chemistry with Christopher’s Anatoly makes their relationship believable, inviting empathy even amid her heartbreak.

Mark Jacoby, Sean Allan Krill, Bradley Dean, Hannah Cruz, and Bryce Pinkham

As previously mentioned, The Arbiter, played by Bryce Pinkham, is significantly expanded. Through jokes and frequent breaking of the fourth wall, he leads the audience with irresistible charm and wit. Bradley Dean is also heavily featured as Alexander Molokov, Anatoly’s chess coach and member of the KGB. Dean’s performance of “Soviet Machine” in Act II is one of the most entertaining numbers—crisp and filled with dark humor. Sean Allan Krill plays CIA agent Walter de Courcey, Molokov’s American counterpart, and together, they keep the audience on its toes, guiding the audience through the political aspects of the plot. Rounding out the principal cast, Hannah Cruz as Svetlana Sergievsky, Anatoly’s estranged wife, brings a mix of icy restraint and deep emotion to the show. While her newly written solo “He is a Man, He is a Child” is not great, she conveys deep feelings through her superb vocals. In a show of standout vocal moments, her duet with Lea Michele of “I Know Him So Well” was the highlight of the entire performance, a perfect showcase of their sensational voices. 

Onstage for nearly the entire show, the ensemble spends much of the first act on the benches surrounding the central playing space, reacting and providing background vocals, but in their moments of actual choreography, especially “One Night in Bangkok,” they display impressive athleticism as they execute Lorin Latarro’s energetic choreography. Beyond their movement, the ensemble functions as a constant, watchful presence underscoring the tension of the tournament and the political spectacle surrounding it. It’s a reminder that in this concert-style staging, the ensemble isn’t just background—they’re the connective tissue that keeps the score and story in constant motion.

Far from perfect, this latest iteration of Chess’s book addresses some long-standing issues but introduces a host of new ones. What remains unchanged is the transcendent score—the show’s beating heart and enduring saving grace. It is worth seeing to hear the music alone, and while the book may continue to be uneven, the music endures, proving that even an imperfect production can still deliver a checkmate.

3.5/5 stars

2 hours and 40 minutes, one intermission

Imperial Theatre