Wuthering Heights: The Musical - An extraordinary work of unintended comedic genius

When in New York, the opportunities to see world-class theatre are exponential. Fancy an edgy fairytale with a catchy score? Get yourself to Wicked! Want to see some SERIOUS treading of boards with a celebrity thrown in for good measure? Feast your eyes on Fences with Denzel Washington, but of course.
The options are overwhelming. Or they were until the must-see run of Passajj Productions's Wuthering Heights: A Romantic Musical at the Mint Theater  began this month.
An example of what an adaptation of a wonderful novel should never be, this is Bronte on crack. Heathcliff is a swashbuckling, hands on hips, Cathy-yelling, cartoon of the brooding character readers hate to love. Hindley, with his one permanently cocked eyebrow, is the best pantomime villain I’ve seen in years. And Cathy, oh dear me Cathy, is so absurdly mental it’s a wonder she didn’t get locked in the attic at birth.
If that’s not enough to have you rolling in the aisles (as many openly were by the second half) the lyrics themselves are comedic genius in their sheer randomness. “I love you like the thunder loves a hill!!!!!!!!” wails Heathcliff. “Heeeeaaathclifff!!! Heeeeeeaaaathclifff!!!!! Heeeaaaaathclifffff!!!!!” yells back Cathy.
In truth, Wuthering Heights: A Romantic Musical, is simply the result of a severe misreading of the novel. Director Matt Gutschick has given British Yorkshire moors the credit of being extremely culturally progressive in the 1800s. As a result, the actors do not adhere to the expected Northern burr but liberally pick and choose accents as the play goes on. Joseph, played by the wonderfully named Chuck Muckle, begins as an Irishman but slowly becomes more Jamaican as the second act continues.

 Meanwhile, the other actors float between American, Irish, Scottish, English and Indian. It’s hugely engaging.
“Take me seriously, take me seriously!!!” they demand as they belt out number after number relentlessly. “But we can’t!” says the audience with tear-filled laughing eyes, “you’re playing Cathy/ Nelly/ Edgar with five different accents! It's impossible!”
Despite my criticism, I have to applaud the play. To make a comedy out of a novel synonymous with the tragic and miserable gothic period, although unintended, is an astonishing achievement. Bravo to everyone involved – and please, don't stop here. There are so many other classics to make light of. Do Frankenstein next - I’d make the cross-Atlantic journey just to see what a man-made human would sing and say.