From a distance, it’s hard to say that Neil Diamond’s life story is all that interesting. Nobody would be sure what made his rise to fame necessary for a Broadway musical treatment. Of course, the hits were enormous (“Sweet Caroline” is played in full twice throughout the show), but little about his journey has the dramatic heights of other touring productions. It’s a fact that A Beautiful Noise does not ignore, and in fact finds a powerful way of working around the limitations. For whatever is lacking in the traditional rise and fall drama of his youthful career, it is found in the retrospective reflection of a man who, in the process of attempting to reach out, realized how alone he was.
The opening scene has the perfect misdirect when Diamond is introduced to the accompaniment of screaming fans. It’s not the most unexpected treatment, but what follows definitely is. Those presuming a sprightly Diamond to walk out in his flashy suits will be disappointed to learn that the framework is not one of flashing smiles and twirling microphones, but instead about someone beaten down by time. The curtain rises. The noise fades. In its place is Diamond, an old man, hunched in a chair, overlooking a therapist who is set to help him uncover personal truths about himself. Even the self-serving tactic of using a published songbook as a guide works within the show less because it literalizes the language but more because it points out the nuance in between, allowing a stanza to unveil the greater truths.
Fans of Diamond can expect to have an enjoyable time as he navigates from early shows attempting to please record executives in coffee shops to the saving grace that got him out of another shady deal. There’s plenty of material to explore within the text. However, those less interested in seeing him evolve from teen idol to a more genuine artist may find an issue with understanding the larger appeal. Too much is taken for granted when it comes to the ascension. They’re mostly familiar visual pastiches relishing in 60s and 70s fashion, while the ensemble does kitschy numbers whose buoyancy is fun to look at. With that said, it all feels shallow compared to other jukebox musicals in part because the lyrics aren’t creatively remixed often to be dialogue within the show. There is often a lack of propulsion in the story when he sings. It’s fun as performance art, but what is Diamond doing to sell A Beautiful Noise, the current show?
Without delving too far into specifics, the show’s greatest strength is the wraparound device. Even if the young Diamond has a stylized charisma that never loses its engagement, there is something more stripped back in the therapy sequences. It comes in part from the questioning of why a show sanctioned by the man himself would cater to a feeble and somewhat defeated version of himself. It’s clear that his “best days” are behind him, and at worst, this is a bittersweet ode to the glory days. Given how much time the show spends deconstructing his music as being secretly lonesome and yearning, it makes sense that the man telling this story radiates an absence that is never fully translated by the nostalgic memory. No amount of spectacle can make it feel genuine. Without directly stating that what the audience sees is shallow in a “business is cruel” kind of way, A Beautiful Noise conveys the heartache of having the gift of expression without someone to cure that ailment.
The therapy is not directly interrogation in the classic sense. Even as the show builds to the emotional sledgehammer of “I Am I Said,” there is a stripped-down nature that favors darkness. Besides the chairs, there’s little to accompany the actors on stage as they pull back the distractions and kooky backdrops in favor of a greater truth. It’s borderline Brechtian to watch Diamond spend the concluding half of A Beautiful Noise not playing the musical game and instead becoming the result of soul searching. Suddenly, the technique can be forgiven for any shoddiness. It manages to become less about truth and more about projection. Even for an artist whose music is described as holding honesty, it’s amazing how much can be reconsidered by the final segments of Act II.
It can be argued that Act II is also where the show can win over new fans. Those wanting biographical entertainment to challenge the stage will be pleasantly surprised by what this achieves. Despite opening with an elaborate, crowd-participating number, it doesn’t last long. If anything, it’s the last sigh of relief before the show gets dark. Everything goes from being a perceived celebration of lyrical brilliance to clues about tangential details of identity. Perspective becomes crucial to the finale as things as trivial as chairs come to embody decades of struggle. Outside of brief overviews, Diamond’s glory days ended in the 70s. He’s not allowing himself to detail potential struggles. Instead, he emphasizes the weight of success not making him happy. For anyone with a creative heart, the clarity is something to strive for, and it’s radical to see a show about someone perceived as safe dive into the weeds.
Of course, it goes without saying that another reason to see A Beautiful Noise is the music. If it’s something that has even the slightest resonance, it results in a few great moments. The aforementioned “Sweet Caroline” is the peak of the show… and it happens twice! Both times, the wall comes down and the audience is encouraged to sing along and add their “So good!” to the number. It’s one of those community experiences that may seem shallow, but totally works at conveying the power of Diamond’s populous music. It’s a song that transcends context, for better or worse, and it’s why the flimsy origin story comes across as inspiring. It almost doesn’t matter if it’s the most meaningful song. It just plays well to a crowd.
A Beautiful Noise may find difficulty drawing in new fans in part because Diamond is not unique enough to stand out in the crowded market. His music has a charm to it and the discussion of his lyrics builds appreciation, but the story rides more on how it breaks from conventional theater and explores a more dramatic take. By the end, it’s more about an artist’s relationship with his material than a highlight reel. There’s a lot to admire about that, though Act I still feels like a straightforward concert at times. It works because the cast knows how to put on a show. However, it's not until Act II that everything lands and rewards patient and observant minds. It’s not the best night of theater, but it has enough to call a good time.
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