An all-in, way-out cast brings to life the new musical stage adaptation of Robert Zemeckis’s 1992 dark-comedy cult-classic film Death Becomes Her at Broadway’s Lunt-Fontanne Theatre, following its pre-Broadway world premiere in Chicago, with over-the-top killingly funny venom, vitriol, and vengeance. Written by Marco Pennette (book) and Julia Mattison and Noel Carey (music and lyrics), the story pits friend against friend in a competitive ageist culture of “then, now, and beyond” that values female youth, beauty, sex appeal, and fame, then discards women when those begin to fade. But what if there were a way to ensure that they don’t? There is, in this high camp, (literally) gut-busting horror parody that will keep you shrieking with laughter.
Longtime frenemies Madeline Ashton, a wealthy, attractive, egomaniacal, and condescending two-time Oscar nominee (who never hesitates to mention it), and Helen Sharp, a dowdy and unassertive aspiring writer who gave up acting (since her own looks and talent didn’t compare), reunite in Madeline’s dressing room after her latest show. Helen can’t wait to introduce (and to lord it over) the single actress, who’s stolen many of her past boyfriends, to her trusted fiancé Ernest, a humanitarian reconstructive surgeon. But upon welcoming the couple to her palatial penthouse, Madeline plies them with champagne, seduces Ernest, marries him, and convinces him to become a plastic surgeon to the stars (specifically herself), igniting Helen’s infinite thirst for revenge.
Ten years later, they meet again at the glamorously transformed Helen’s posh book-release party, as Madeline’s popularity and appearance are on the decline (and she starts “going full Sunset Boulevard”). She is insulted by the attendees and approached by Chagall, a stranger who gives her the card of Viola Van Horn, a mysterious woman who just might have the secret to restoring her to what she once was and could forever be – a magic potion that, she discovers, has already worked for her nemesis and can keep them battling through eternity.
But they’ll also need Ernest to drink the potion, so he can continue to maintain them after all the riotous physical damage they do to each other. Will he agree to eternal life with them? Will they ever bury the hatchet (and the gun and shovels and everything else they use to wreak havoc on one another)? There are some changes from the original film (most notably a recognition of the sexist social expectations of women as the motivations for what they do), but the overall spirit of creepy, snarky, non-stop laughs remains intact (even if the women’s bodies don’t always).
Directed and choreographed by Christopher Gattelli with no-holds-barred humor and eye-popping extravagance, Tony nominees Megan Hilty as Madeline and Jennifer Simard as Helen bring their blockbuster voices and spot-on comic timing to their roles, going full throttle with the attitude, biting one-liners (first from Madeline, then from the revamped Helen), and vindictive passion. Among the sidesplitting songs are Helen’s expression of her renewed obsession and increasing rage towards “Madeline” (sung while in therapy in a psychiatric hospital) and Madeline’s “For the Gaze,” which not only affirms her narcissism but also slyly acknowledges the largely gay audience that made the movie a cult classic, in a show filled with witty double-entendres, wordplays, and sexual innuendo throughout its two acts and 21 character-defining musical numbers, with orchestrations by Doug Besterman and music direction by Ben Cohn.
Supporting the leads and fleshing out their story is Christopher Sieber in the role of the nerdy Ernest, who imbibes more and more during his unhappy marriage to Madeline, plots his escape with Helen (“Let’s Run Away Together”), conceives “The Plan” (while drunkenly slurring his words) to repair the women’s undead bodies, and, ultimately, starts to remember who he was and what’s truly important in life. As the enigmatic and bewitching Viola Van Horn, Grammy winner Michelle Williams presents herself, in all her Goth glory, as the one to see “If You Want Perfection” and offers mortals the opportunity to remain forever alive (“Siempre Viva”), but not without a price, as she avows in “Don’t Say I Didn’t (Warn You).”
Josh Lamon as Madeline’s overworked, undervalued, and exasperated assistant Stefan (who laughably questions his gay identity when he has trouble arranging a vase of flowers) and Taurean Everett as the luring and lissome Chagall also give standout featured performances (though not credited as such in the program, but as part of the ensemble). And rounding out the highly entertaining company is the large and talented ensemble of fans, eventgoers, and Viola’s Immortals (Marija Abney, Lauren Celentano, Sarita Colón, Kaleigh Cronin, Natalie Charle Ellis, Michael Graceffa, Neil Haskell, Kolton Krause, Sarah Meahl, Ximone Rose, Sir Brock Warren, Bud Weber, Ryan Worsing, and Warren Yang), who dazzle with their lithe, perfectly synchronized dancing and acrobatics, and their youthful beauty (they’re all much older than they look but have taken the potion that they “Live to Serve”).
Of course, as in the film, the artistic design and special effects are of utmost importance to the surreal story, the visible changes in Madeline and Helen, and their gory attacks on each other. A stunning array of costumes by Paul Tazewell, hair and wigs by Charles Lapointe, and make-up Joe Dulude II characterize their transitions, and the sparkling gowns of Viola and devilishly sexy skintight bodysuits of her Immortals make her magic potion that much more desirable. A lavish scenic design by Derek McLane switches fluidly from the marquee and dressing room of the theater where Madeline performs, to her luxurious apartment, mansion, and other key locales, to the Gothic arches of Viola’s sinister domain, enhanced with purple lights, fog effects, eerie flashes of lightning (lighting by Justin Townsend), and crashes of thunder (sound by Peter Hylenski).
And the gruesome injuries that would have killed anyone who hadn’t taken the elixir – most famously, the huge hole shot through Helen’s torso and Madeline’s decapitation – are captured in the faux-shocking illusions of Tim Clothier (there’s also a zany scene of the props in his workshop coming to life right before the eyes of the very intoxicated Ernest) and fight direction by Cha Ramos (including the vicious push and extended fall of Madeline down her grand staircase), performed with the aid of uproarious stunt doubles.
Whether you’re a devotee of the film or are experiencing the wildly macabre story for the first time, Death Becomes Her is a must-see camp classic with an amazing cast, design, music, and direction that make for one drop-dead fabulous night on Broadway.
Running Time: Approximately two hours and 15 minutes, including an intermission.
Death Becomes Her plays through Sunday, May 25, 2025, at the Lunt-Fontanne Theatre, 205 West 46th Street, NYC. For tickets (priced at $59.75-319.50, including fees), go online.