Early in this century, Canadian writer-performer Bob Martin co-created and starred in a musical, The Drowsy Chaperone (music and lyrics by Lisa Lambert and Greg Morrison). Like The Boy Friend, a hit in London and New York in the 1950s (it introduced Julie Andrews to Broadway audiences), The Drowsy Chaperone was a funny but loving tribute to mindless 1920s musicals, which were full of stock cardboard characters and silly plots, but often had great scores. A few years ago, Martin wrote the book for The Prom, about four totally self-absorbed, unemployed Broadway performers who decided to descend upon a small-town Indiana high school prom after reading that a lesbian student was forbidden to bring her female date to the event. The show ran for 300 performances on Broadway (a long run in the 1930s, but now not enough of a run to break even), and was turned into a truly awful Netflix musical, a contender for one of the worst movie musicals ever made. 

 Martin seems intent on bringing back the musical comedies of the 1920s and 1930s, with their stock characters and silly situations, before creators like Rodgers and Hammerstein and Stephen Sondheim worried about things like three-dimensional characters and songs that were specific to the character and situation. Those shows often had great scores by the likes of Jerome Kern, George and Ira Gershwin, Cole Porter, or Richard Rodgers and Lorenz Hart. The Drowsy Chaperone and The Prom had totally forgettable scores. The shows veer in the direction of camp but don’t want to go so far as to alienate straight audiences. 

Now Martin has written the book for Boop (playing at the CIBC Theatre in Chicago through Christmas Eve), a show that cries out for a camp approach. After all, what could be more camp than a musical about 1930s cartoon character Betty Boop? In the midst of cartoon mice, ducks and rabbits, Betty Boop stood out as a sexy female human. She was a bit brainless, but clever enough to foil her pursuers. Betty had a resurgence of popularity in the 1960s and 1970s when her cartoons appeared on television. I wondered how many of the kids in the audience had any idea who Betty Boop is. Why create a musical around her in 2023?  

What would happen if Betty Boop was projected from her black and white world into 2023 New York City—in the middle of a Comic Con convention, of course? That is the situation that drives Boop. She immediately meets the love of her life, a handsome jazz trumpeter, as well as a teenage best friend. Somehow, she also gets involved in the election campaign of a sleazy mayoral candidate. Meanwhile, her grandfather and dog pursue her because her old black and white world will die out if she doesn’t return. 

 Essentially, Boop is a high tech 1930s musical. Apart from the revved up synth-heavy orchestrations and the high volume, the songs could be from a typical pre-Sondheim, pre-rock show. Unfortunately, it is nowhere near as good as the scores of the musicals of Betty Boop’s era. There is one that might still be in your ear when you leave the theatre, a cute old-fashioned tune, “Why Look Around the Corner.” It reminded me a bit of “Once in Love with Amy,” from Frank Loesser’s 1948?? show, Where’s Charley. That song included an audience singalong. This one has the lyrics projected onto the set with a bouncing ball cuing the audience to sing along. As far as I could tell, no one did. Few in the audience were old enough to remember the bouncing ball singalongs that sometimes preceded movies at the local theatre back in the day. It’s as if Stephen Sondheim and Hamilton never existed. Songs seem unmotivated by plot or character. Subplots abound but the characters are all cardboard. Despite the frenetic movement, the show seems oddly static. The sets are clever but look cheap.

 Old-time musicals were really funny with lines written by wits like P.G. Wodehouse, Guy Bolton, George S. Kaufmann, and Morrie Ryskind and delivered by comics like Bob Hope and Jimmy Durante. Despite the efforts of Broadway veterans like Faith Prince and Erich Bergen, Boop isn’t funny. It elicited few big laughs from the audience at the performance I attended. Those were mostly inspired by a puppet dog. Jerry Mitchell has provided his usual frenetic direction.

  What saves the show is the charm and talent of the stars. Jasmine Amy Rogers who plays Betty Boop has very few credits to her name but bursts with star quality. She sings superbly and has great comic timing. Now we can only hope that she gets a vehicle worthy of her abundant talent. Ainsley Anthony Melham, her leading man, has a fine baritone voice. Unlike 1950s leading men, he can also dance. Veteran Broadway comedienne Faith Prince has an underwritten part, but still knows how to sell a comic number, even when it isn’t particularly funny. Erich Bergen, who plays the sleek, sleazy politician, has virtually nothing to do in the first act, but has two delightful numbers in the second. 

 If I were a betting man, I’d bet that Boop doesn’t stand much of a chance on Broadway. It’s mildly enjoyable but totally empty headed and is saddled with a mediocre score. It needs to be funnier. But I’m terrible at guessing the future of musicals. I have friends who invest in musicals. If I liked a show in previews, they wouldn’t invest in it. I thought The Lion King was dull.