Is ‘Shucked’ a-maize-ing or just sweetly corny enough?
AWWW SHUCKS: The cast of the North American tour of Shucked, part of the BroadwaySF season at the Curran Theatre (renamed the Corn Theatre for the run of this show), tunefully celebrates America’s favorite crop. Photo by Matthew Murphy and Evan Zimmerman)
To call the musical Shucked corny is to exhaust all meanings of the word. First, the show is about corn in the way that Les Misérables is about misery or Damn Yankees is about baseball. Corn is the cob onto which the entire musical is stuck. Second, the nearly exhausting laugh-a-minute pace is like a specific kind of retro-theater: cornpone vaudeville. And finally, even amid the bawdy puns and double entendres, there’s a sweet and creamy corniness to the show that, while not unexpected, pops with a little more emotional punch than you might have thought possible.
INDEPENDENTLY OWNED: Miki Abraham’s Lulu (with Ryan Fitzgerald) gets Shucked’s showstopper, a catchy ode to being very much your own person. (Photo by Matthew Murphy and Evan Zimmerman)
Shucked, a mild hit on Broadway (it was nominated for nine Tony Awards in 2023, including best musical), had a nice big platform in New York and even attracted a celebrity producer in country superstar Reba McEntire. But this kind of simple, old-fashioned musical theater, where laughs and silliness and pure enjoyment are primary, doesn’t really have a place on Broadway these days. Shucked had a nice launch on Broadway, but now it’s on the road, where it belongs, bringing (to quote its parental advisory) “a harvest of corny innuendo” to the people.
Now at the Curran Theatre as part of the BroadwaySF season, Shucked has nine named characters and an ensenmble of eight, so it’s a tight company performing on a single set (by Scott Pask) that resembles a cartoon barn in need of major repair surrounded by blue sky and cornfields.
We’re told by our two ultra-charming narrators (Maya Lagerstam and Tyler Joseph Ellis) that what will unfold is a “farm-to-fable” about Cob County, a corn-bred community that is so deep in cornrows that it has little to no contact with the outside world. The kernel of a plot kicks into gear when something terrible starts to affect their beloved cash crop, so an intrepid citizen, named (naturally) Maizy (Danielle Wade) heads to the nearest big city for help. Unfortunately for her, that city is Tampa, and the charlatan she brings home (Quinn Vanantwerp as Gordy) is masquerading as a podiatrist or, deep breath, corn doctor.
Maya Lagerstam (left) is Storyteller 1 and Tyler Joseph Ellis is Storyteller 2 in Shucked. Photo by Matthew Murphy and Evan Zimmerman
Think Oklahoma! meets 110 in the Shade by way of The Music Man with a soupçon of Hee-Haw, and you’ll start to get the idea. In Robert Horn’s book, the corn is as high as a comedian’s eye, with a good titter, chuckle or outright laugh every few minutes. There’s even one character (Peanut, played by Mike Nappi) who basically just speaks in jokes. I honestly couldn’t write down the laugh lines fast enough, but here are a few favorites (and keep in mind that delivery is key, and this cast, under the direction of Jack O’Brien delivers like candy corn on Halloween):
“Family is telling someone to go to hell and then hoping that they get there safely.”
“If life was fair, mosquitoes would suck fat instead of blood.”
“A wise woman once said something smarter than any man ever did.”
“You never know how many people you hate until you have to start picking baby names.”
“This whiskey is strong enough to raise five kids on a teacher’s salary.”
The appealing score by country stars Brandy Clark and Shane McAnally has a lively opening number in “Corn,” which includes an actual corncob kick line (thanks, choreographer Sarah O’Gleby) and several actual references to corn coming out the same way it goes in. There’s a lovely sad guy ballad for a jilted groom (Jake Odmark as Beau) called “Somebody Will” and a sterling duet, “Friends,” for Maizy and her cousin Lulu (Miki Abraham) who refuse to let men get in the way of their lifelong friendship. But the standout song, “Independently Owned,” is Lulu’s alone, and Abraham pretty much shucks the audience, boils us, and serves us up with butter and salt. Chef’s kiss.
A goofy comic free-for-all like this could, frankly, have been a shucking disaster, but director O’Brien makes it feel air popped and fluffy with just enough salt to even out the sugar (or perhaps high fructose corn syrup?). These children of the corn chip away at every cranky, cringing audience member until we’re all in complete hominy, sorry, harmony with the show. If the world and its bad news cycle has you down, just give in to the corniness and haul your niblets to Shucked.
FOR MORE INFORMATION
Shucked by Clark, McAnally and Horn continues through Oct. 5 as part of the BroadwaySF season at the Curran/Corn Theatre, 445 Geary St., San Francisco. Running time: 2 hours and 15 minutes (including one intermission). Tickets are $62.01-$210.60 (subject to change). Call 888-746-1799 or visit broadwaysf.com
