Seattle’s 5th Avenue Theatre’s presentation of the new musical Bliss (book, music & lyrics by Emma Lively and Tyler Beattie) is well directed (Sheryl Kaller), staged and performed. However, Bliss misses the mark on many levels. The greatest flaw of the musical is the lack of character development and story arc.
Bliss is the story of four princesses locked in a tower by their father after their mother dies. Their father appears inexplicably healthy and well-balanced except for the slight character flaw of locking all of his daughters in a tower to have no contact with the outside world. No worries, each daughter turned out perfectly healthy, unencumbered by any human contact or interaction with anything outside their father’s well-intentioned prison. Each daughter’s personality and fashion sense is so unique, at one point I felt the father might have kidnapped the daughters from different mothers and brainwashed them into believing they are actually sisters. Regardless, Bliss is a fairytale and for the sake of the story’s “women can be anything theme,” each princess has their own unique genre of expression except for, you guessed it, any expression that remotely looks like a Disney princess.
Alas, the smothered-in-misunderstood-fatherly-affection hostages eventually escape their bedroom compound to go on a magical journey where they discover very little about their personalities aside from what they already knew. They start as somewhat well-adjusted young women who pretty much know who they are and they end the musical as somewhat more well-adjusted young women who pretty much know who they are a little bit more. The result of this lack of revelation makes the musical fall flat. Sure, there are minor discoveries around the deception of hormones, the allure of power and the lies of the fashion and beauty industry,
but these lessons feel more like simple well-worn “I’m somebody special” affirmations, than the genuine character development one would expect from four young women escaping the controlling and psychologically abusive reality of a father’s imprisonment.
This lack of character development is the fundamental problem of the show. Our princess protagonists are far too woke when the journey begins for their journey to be much more than a confirmation of their already cemented identities. Which is fine, if one truly believes the best way to facilitate healthy identity is to lock young girls away in a prison where they are only mentored and educated by their clearly traumatized father.
A far more interesting story would have revolved around the princesses truly discovering what was lacking in their father’s upbringing. For example, when the show starts, we are led to believe that one of the princesses loves to sing, be loud and grab attention from everyone. Her personality seems fully formed. On the other hand, we are also presented with the notion that her father is focused primarily on intellectual pursuits. It doesn’t make sense that this daughter, cut off from the outside world, would have such confidence in something she has not remotely seen modeled or been encouraged to participate in by her father.
For the sake of story, I would have preferred to see her desire for singing and audience to awaken as her journey progressed. In other words, the musical would have been more interesting if she would have discovered more of who she was once she left her imprisonment. Instead, freedom sort of becomes just a new environment to express her same old personality. This lack of development plagues each main character. They simply don’t grow or transform. Their story is more of a testing of some sort of set-in-stone, pre-determined identity we must assume was formed in them regardless of their father’s terrible parenting isolationism.
In contrast, this leads me to the best story arc of the show that also had a far greater emotional impact on me than the story of the four princesses. On the princesses’ journey, they come across a fairy godfather who represents every dying Disney princess trope as well a few fashion designers. His goal is to make someone live “happily ever after” so that he can get his fairy wings. As part of this process, he introduces the four recently freed-from-house-arrest princesses to a field near magical waters where a cadre of Disneyesque princesses have all literally taken the plunge, fully immersing themselves into traditional princess ethos magic. As a result, we are confronted with the hilariously horrific scene of a stage full of carbon copy, vacant glaring, parade smiling, puffy dress twirling princesses who have had their personalities Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Booed right out of them.
The introduction to these pristine, living princess zombies is the highlight of the first act and leads to excitement for what is to come. The transformation of these women who have been trapped in the waters of princess propaganda is also one of the most moving and emotionally impactful moments of the second act; primarily, because the wannabe Disney princess pack are the only characters in the show that have a fully formed character arc or a satisfying transformation.
Not to spoil the ending, but I was even left frustrated by the logic of the final outcomes. If Bliss is supposed to be “a new kind of musical,” then why does everyone get to move on with greater awareness and acceptance while fairy godmothers and fairy godfathers are relegated to a far more troubling fate. The villainous Disney outcome for the lead fairy, Sir Pincus Glimmermore, played with great nuance and comic flare by Mario Cantone, seemed incongruent with the tone of the rest of the finale. And a show that is ultimately about women having their own agency to choose who and what they want to be certainly could have found a better way to break a spell without the aid of a man or a good pair of shoes saving the day. I guess a woman in need of a good pair of shoes is a Disney trope worth preserving.
I have been a tad bit in-depth in my critique of Bliss because I truly believe the show has strong elements that make the musical a worthy presentation. I enjoyed many of the numbers and the overall feel of the night. The music is engaging, the performances are excellent, the directing is impactful and the overall production value is highly appealing. However, I needed a richer story to help me emotionally connect with a very familiar theme. The show needs a clearer logic and a deeper character arc to helps us connect with the message beyond the very well-worn, simplistic theme of female empowerment.
Douglas Bursch is the author of Posting Peace: Why Social Media Divides Us and What We Can Do About It. He also hosts The Fairly Spiritual Show podcast.