Boston Magazine |
Semper Fidelity
Worried that Broadway writers would turn High Fidelity into a cheesy farce, a playwright from Boston signed on to bring the story to the stage.
By Bill Gale
When Southie-bred playwright David Lindsay-Abaire heard that one of his favorite books (and movies), High Fidelity, was slated to become a Broadway musical, his reaction was instant: “What a terrible idea. There’s no way they’re gonna get it right.” To make sure they did, Lindsay-Abaire decided to take a crack at it himself, even though he’d never written a musical before.
The musical adaptation of the Nick Hornby novel (turned John Cusack vehicle), which opens this month at Boston’s Colonial Theatre before going to New York later this year, has Lindsay-Abaire stamped all over it. Previously, the 36-year-old playwright made a name for himself with such absurdist plays as Kimberly Akimbo and Fuddy Meers, a pair of off-Broadway crowd-pleasers that preceded his February Broadway debut, Rabbit Hole, the bittersweet drama for which he earned a Tony nomination.
Adapting High Fidelity’s listless thirtysomething protagonist to the stage was a job Lindsay-Abaire was well suited to, having established himself as a master of witty characterization. “We needed to activate him,” he says. So the musical version of the story aims to punch up the romance while—like the book and movie—steering clear of corny clichés about love and life. The show ends on a pretty hopeful note, Lindsay-Abaire admits (it’s a musical after all), “but without being schmaltzy.”
The musical adaptation of the Nick Hornby novel (turned John Cusack vehicle), which opens this month at Boston’s Colonial Theatre before going to New York later this year, has Lindsay-Abaire stamped all over it. Previously, the 36-year-old playwright made a name for himself with such absurdist plays as Kimberly Akimbo and Fuddy Meers, a pair of off-Broadway crowd-pleasers that preceded his February Broadway debut, Rabbit Hole, the bittersweet drama for which he earned a Tony nomination.
Adapting High Fidelity’s listless thirtysomething protagonist to the stage was a job Lindsay-Abaire was well suited to, having established himself as a master of witty characterization. “We needed to activate him,” he says. So the musical version of the story aims to punch up the romance while—like the book and movie—steering clear of corny clichés about love and life. The show ends on a pretty hopeful note, Lindsay-Abaire admits (it’s a musical after all), “but without being schmaltzy.”
Originally published in Boston magazine, September 2006
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