The gorgeously remodeled Lyric Theater (in the space formerly occupied by
West Coast Ensemble) opens its inaugural season with Junk (that’s the show’s
title, and not an assessment of its quality).  Based on a concept album by the
Europop group Brainpool, sometimes called the Swedish Oasis, Junk is,
according to director Shakina Nayfack, “part social satire, part love story, and
part existential allegory.”  It’s also an exciting and tuneful rock opera, which
has “cult hit” written all over it.

After a brief standing-room-only showcase at the Steve Allen Theater earlier
this year, Junk returns with most of its original cast intact, in a more polished yet
edgy production, directed with skill and passion by Nayfack, and featuring a
young, energetic and talented ensemble and the best back-up band you’ll
hear these days.

Being a sung-through rock opera, Junk has is little or no dialog (other than
when one of the characters answers his cell phone early on and tells the caller
“I can’t talk now, I’m in a rock opera”).  There is a plot, having something to
do with a megafirm called Junk Inc., which owns just about everything in
town.  There’s a romantic triangle involving a rebellious secretary, the office
garbage man, and the firm’s megalomaniacal CEO.  There’s also a drag
queen sushi chef performance artist whose suicide begins Act 1 and whose
ghost reappears from time to time as a kind of guardian angel. I recommend
reading the synopsis in your program before each act, though your enjoyment
of Junk won’t depend on whether or now you know what’s happening.

What works best in Junk, and works very well indeed, is the music. Brainpool
has a way with melodies, and one can easily see how they were able to amass
a number of hit singles in their native Sweden.  Highlights include Here Comes
the Man (which introduces executive Hannes), Junkyard Commercial Spot
(with echoes of the old Batman TV theme), and the oh so infectious title song.
The band, with musical director Zachary Provost on keyboards, Andrew
Doolittle on Guitars, Daniel Pearson on bass, Eli Brueggemann on keyboards,
and Steve Krugman on drums, are rock concert ready and clearly inspire the
cast’s enthusiastic performances.

Standouts include the passionate and big voiced Natalya Oliver as Anna, the
sensational Michael Edwin Stuart (boy can he hit those high notes!) as the
CEO, aka The Man, and Aldo José Puccini, poignant as the drag queen
(another one with a great high rock voice).  Niketa Calame and Kam Talbert,
as young executives Martina and Hannes, are soulful singers and good actors,
and Daniel Guzman is appropriately schlumpy yet romantic as the garbage
man who transitions into tragic superhero.

Among the supporting cast, dancer Jonathan Corps makes the greatest
impression.  Tall, lithe, and graceful, Corps also provides one of the show’s most
hilarious moments, in a wink to “Dream Curly” in Oklahoma. He is surrounded
by a talented ensemble: Cindy Burnett, Michele Cavallero, Booter Griffin,
Kathleen Chen, Lindsey Stakoe, Jessica Coffman, and Kien Shimabukuro.  They
shine most especially in an Act 2 number set in a black-light-lit nightclub,
costumed iridescently and dancing Devo-style to the very catchy World Going
Wrong. (See above photo, worth a thousand words.) Kudos to choreographer
Ramie Becker for her infectious dances.

Brett J. Banakis’ set design surrounds the audience with chain link on which
hangs... junk. Miguel Barragan’s costumes are colorful and imaginative. 
Despite some volume problems with individual mikes, Morgan McCauley’s
sound design works well; the music is appropriately loud but not overpowering.

There will be some who compare Junk to Rent. Both feature youthful casts,
sung-through scores, and rock tunes. Junk lacks Rent’s depth of
characterization and plot, but in all other aspects scores high marks, and
could easily become a word-of-mouth hit among the 20somethings who
frequent the clubs.  I’m far from a 20something, but with its catchy tunes and
eager and able young cast, Junk had me in its unique spell and got me up on
my feet singing along at curtain call.

Lyric Theatre, 520 N. LaBrea Ave.  L.A.;   August 28 through September 30;
Select Tuesdays through Saturdays at 8:00, select Sundays at 7:00. $40. www.
LyricTheatreLA.com 323 939-9220

--Steven Stanley