Girl From the North Country is just one of the many when talking about Broadway’s newest infatuation: jukebox musicals. Like the ones that came before it, the production uses the music of one particular artist and builds the story around their catalog of music. In this case, the artist in question is Bob Dylan.

Written and directed by Conor McPherson, Girl From the North Country is set in Duluth, Minnesota during the Great Depression. Stuck in what seems like an endless winter, the production follows the lives of the Laines and the many boarders they have taken into their home to make ends meet. Bleak, dark, and full of anguish, the production is a glimpse into the past (and possibly the increasingly grim present) – not exactly the mood we’ve come to expect from musical theater. Instead, Girl From the North Country has frequently been compared to plays such as Thornton Wilder’s Our Town for its commentary on small town American life. Perhaps Girl From the North Country should have been kept as a play too…

One of the key elements of musical theater is that the music in the production is used to move the plot along. It’s part of the cheesiness and charm as we see the lovelorn heroine and dashing hero pour their hearts onto the stage during a tear jerking ballad or snap it out in a jazzy tap number. Girl From the North Country does none of these things. 

Sure, one could argue that by using music with lyrics often irrelevant to the plot, the musical minds have created the sense the music is a parallel to the world we’re seeing on stage. One in which everyone is happy and love is not unrequited. That there are two worlds, with music shining as a beacon in the dark. Of course, one could also argue that this disjointed connection (or lack thereof) is choppy. There is seemingly no explanation as to why most of the songs are placed where they are, and instead it’s like someone threw darts at a list of Dylan songs tacked up onto the wall. This random assortment of musical numbers are really the only time the ensemble makes an appearance in the show as they step-touch-finger-snap around a series of silvery microphones a la variety show style. Truly a shame, since their haunting harmonies deserve more credit than what they are granted in the dimly lit upstage corner. 

Music aside, the plot is fairly simple. Perhaps too simple. By the time the curtain closes for Act 1, the plot and reason for the production is still surprisingly murky. There are some basic storylines, sure, but there are no inciting incidents. Every conflict in the production is revealed in the first 15 minutes, and I spent the entire first half of the show waiting for something to happen. The moment before intermission should be the most edge-of-your-seat, big-belt-number moment. We as viewers should be feeling the emotions pouring from the stage. Instead, it feels sleepy and slow, which is a great parallel when mirroring the feeling of trudging through the endless Depression. But as an audience member? Not exactly entertaining. 

Fortunately, the performers do their best with what they are given. John Schiappa takes front and center as the haunted, bitter Nick Laine. Facing foreclosure on the house he pays for by renting out rooms, his explosive temper reveals a broken man beyond all hope. His rage is fueled in part by his drunken son Gene’s (Ben Biggers) lack of ambition and his adopted daughter Marinanne’s (Sharaé Moultrie) mysterious pregnancy. 

The rest of the cast is a rotating cast of boarders shuffling in and out of the house, including the inexplicably wealthy Mr. and Mrs. Burke (David Benoit and Jill Van Velzer), their son Elias (Aidan Wharton), who has the mind and verbal skills of a young child although he is a full grown man, and the widowed Mrs. Neilsen (Carla Woods), who is waiting in vain for her husband’s inheritance. Other boarders include Reverend Marlowe (Jeremy Webb), a snooty, slimy Bible-seller who is written almost like a caricature for all of his over-the-topness, and Joe Scott (Matt Manuel), a boxer newly out of prison. 

But it is Jennifer Blood who is the production’s saving grace in the role of Nick’s wife, Elizabeth Laine. Elizabeth is diagnosed with a form of dementia that has her blurting out truths no one wants to hear as she slips in and out of cognitive thought. Played with a fantastic combination of delicacy and impeccable comedic timing, Blood is by far the best part of this production, and her performance of “Like a Rolling Stone” brims with showmanship, grace, and the fiery passion lacking in the rest of the show. To their credit, however, Moultrie, Woods, and Van Velzer each shine during their own musical numbers, and their unmemorable quality is no fault of their own, but rather a direct impact of the songs and their seemingly erratic placement in the show. 

Girl From the North Country may be written as a glimpse into the isolation, pain, loneliness, and trauma of the Depression, but was keeping the stage dark really necessary? Metaphorically dark times do not have to equate to squinting to see the performer’s faces on the dimly lit stage. 

Girl From the North Country runs at the Durham Performing Arts Center through Sunday, January 7, 2023. Tickets can be purchased here. Children under the age of 6 are not allowed at this performance. Not recommended for children under 12 years of age. This show contains flashing lights, haze, sounds of live gunshots, on-stage smoking, and mature language. Parental discretion is advised. 

All photo credit to Evan Zimmerman for MurphyMade