Jon22: The Website of Jonathan Dobres

Few things in life are as polarizing as musical theater. Either you love it or you hate it, and there’s very little ground in between. In this way, musical theater is exactly like abortion.¹

So now that I’ve said that, I’m going to retreat to safer territory and talk about Spock. Spock is, of course, James T. Kirk’s Vulcan science officer. More specifically, he’s Kirk’s half-Vulcan science officer, a man of two worlds. Owing to his half-human DNA, the Vulcan imperative to suppress all emotion is that much more difficult for Spock, but it gives him a unique perspective on human feeling.

I am the Spock of musical theater. My mother raised me on A Chorus Line, West Side Story, the Oscars, and the Tonys (and, it should be noted, Star Trek). Growing up, I never thought there was anything inherently stupid about people bursting into song and being generally theatrical, or going where no man has gone before, for that matter.

I also understand why many people hate musicals. Let’s set aside the excellent point that Mel Brooks makes about Broadway, because there isn’t much I can do about your masculinity issues. More than that, musicals are ridiculously self-indulgent, predicated on the notion that the entire world will reorient itself around you so that you can sing about your problem, be it boy trouble, job anxiety, or the French Revolution. To see the end result of such a mentality we need look no further than Alice Ripley’s ludicrously self-important acceptance speech at last year’s Tony Awards. This from a woman who won for her performance in Next to Normal, which is a rock musical about bipolar disorder. And for every musical that is too self-important, there are ten that go the opposite way and rob important subject matter of any weight. Gregory Maguire’s Wicked, an epic novel of personal redemption in the face of an uncertain destiny, was transformed into this sugar-coated trifle. The musical adaptation of Wicked may qualify as entertaining, but it’s been stripped of all the novel’s substance.

On the other hand, musicals aren’t all bad. No one can deny that song possesses a range of emotional expression far outside the scope of spoken word. Done right, musicals can offer us an escape from our troubles or, alternately, a cathartic confrontation with them. Musical theater has its tropes, to be sure, but so does any medium. Musicals are as valid a mode of expression as any other, and in some cases they are the best possible way to express a feeling. Songs get stuck in our heads, and although exactly why remains a neurological mystery, I’m sure this partly explains why people love the theater. Though musicals may be self-indulgent, isn’t it alright, even necessary, to indulge yourself every once in a while?

Which brings me to Glee, Fox’s unlikely musical hit. I’ve been following it all season on Hulu (executives take note). It’s been entertaining, certainly, but nothing that’s going to make me scream “Oh my God!” with each new musical number, as so many of the show’s fans seem to do. Up until last week’s episode I didn’t have much to say. With the airing of “Wheels”,² however, that has changed.

“Wheels” raises the very real possibility that Glee‘s producers are stalking me. The two major story arcs in the episode concern Artie, the show’s wheelchair-bound character, and Kurt, the show’s gay character. Artie has been little more than scenery since the pilot, but here he’s finally given some time in the spotlight. He kicks things off with, of all things, a Bublé-esque rendition of “Dancing With Myself,” a song for which I have limitless affection.

Advocates For the Disabled is upset because Kevin McHale, the actor who plays Artie, is able-bodied. I’m all for persons with disabilities getting representation on TV, and I agree that in a perfect world the actors would be disabled themselves, but AFD’s complaint strikes me as the definition of putting the cart before the horse. In fact, the episode features two actresses with Down Syndrome. They aren’t series regulars, but clearly Glee is making a huge effort to honestly represent a wide diversity of people. AFD should save its complaints for shows that deserve it (I’m looking at you, Heroes, though God knows I’m not watching you).

When the camera wasn’t on Artie it was usually on Kurt, who wanted to be the one to sing “Defying Gravity” (yes, from Wicked), gender conventions be damned. Chris Kolfer’s (Kurt’s) rendition is strikingly beautiful, so much so that I immediately voted with my dollars and bought a copy.³ I much prefer it to the version sung by Lea Michele (Rachel), who sounds like she’s doing her best Idina Menzel impression (not exactly an insult, given that Menzel won a Tony for this). More than providing one of the season’s truly stand-out performances, Kurt’s storyline illustrates that coming out is not a singular, before-and-after moment, as is so often the portrayal on television. Rather, Kurt’s coming out is taking the form of a series of moments–a longer, more difficult, and much more realistic path.

Glee‘s writing has been curiously hit-or-miss. Will Schuester’s wife, for example, is a one-dimensional caricature of evil, the sort of woman who decided to fake a pregnancy to salvage her marriage. There is no redeeming her, and it’s obvious that Will would be better off with the school’s adorable guidance counselor, who herself has become entangled in a transparently stupid engagement. It boggles my mind that the same writers who created Kurt also created Sandy, the school’s deposed glee club director, minor drug dealer, and borderline pedophile.⁴ The only adult worth watching is Sue Sylvester, the domineering cheerleading coach played by the supernaturally funny Jane Lynch.

The treatment that the students receive is better, if somewhat puzzling at times. In “Wheels”, Artie has his first chance at romance with Tina, a glee club member afflicted with her own disability in the form of a stutter. She reveals to Artie that she’s been faking the stutter for years (not very convincingly), at which point he turns his back on her. This sends a powerful message, but is undermined a few scenes later when Finn fakes a disability to land a job at a restaurant. That’s a mixed message if ever I’ve seen one. Still, Glee is trying to present one of the most diverse casts on television, and has generally done a good job of transitioning them from broad stereotypes to real characters.

So what’s left to say, really? Glee has many virtues, from its varied cast to its increasingly good writing. Yes, there are musical numbers in there, but they’re all good. The show alternates seamlessly between fun and drama, and it’s all good entertainment. High marks!

And maybe some jazz hands.

1. Of course, it should be noted that that there are many more ways in which abortion is nothing like musical theater. ∧
2. Executives should further note that “Wheels” was the third most popular video on Hulu last week. ∧
3. Whoever had the brilliant idea to put the full Glee cast album on iTunes should win a medal. Not only can you download the songs that appear during the show, but in cases where two separate performances are intercut (like Kurt and Rachel’s takes on “Defying Gravity”), you can also download the solo versions. Genius. ∧
4. Though I must admit that his street name, “Chronic Lady”, is pretty inspired. ∧