Fat Ham Broadway Reviews

There’s a brilliant merging of the two plays when Ijames has Juicy recite verbatim Hamlet’s famous soliloquy “What a piece of work is a man, how noble in reason…” It points to the two unhappy protagonists’ attempts to understand the human condition. But while Hamlet fails to appreciate humanity in all its messy glory, Juicy seems more hopeful. And if there’s any doubt about that optimistic tone, just wait till you see how Fat Ham ends. I was wondering how Ijames was going to wrap it all up, considering that in Hamlet practically everyone dies. Turns out to be a delightful surprise. Consistent with his message – choose pleasure over harm – Ijames offers us a gloriously uplifting takeaway that might have given even Shakespeare pause. Maybe they didn’t have to die after all.

Credit director Saheem Ali—who’s making his Broadway debut, as are five of the actors—for keeping the 95-minute play tight in the transition from an intimate 275-seat theater to a 700-plus-seat house. It’s not just about ensuring that the jokes land, which they do; it’s also about the subtler moments. “I want to lay my head in your lap,” Larry tells Juicy. When Hamlet tries that on Ophelia (“Lady, shall I lie in your lap?”), he’s going for laughs and sexual innuendo. Between Larry and Juicy, there’s genuine tenderness, and maybe even more.

Excellently performed by the entire cast, Fat Ham is cleverly transferred to Broadway by director Saheem Ali from the smaller Off Broadway Public Theater space (the play originated in a Covid-era filmed presentation at the Wilma Theater in Philadelphia). By turns sweet and saucy (and very funny), the play stays just close enough to Hamlet to keep us off-balance. Although there will be blood (well, a little) and death, along with a fine rendition of Radiohead’s “Creep” and recitations of at least some of Hamlet‘s greatest hits – no To Be or Not To Be, though, as Juicy’s self-doubts are of a less existential sort – Ijames’ play resolves on an exhilarating, life-affirming note. Or, to be more precise, notes, as in song, and dance, and enough good-time gender-bending disco sparkle to win over all but the grumpiest of spirits.

Spears is terrific in the lead, capturing the conflicting emotions of a young male struggling with his own fate and feelings, as he valiantly majors in Human Resources online. A high point is the karaoke sequence, where Juicy rivetingly sings “Creep” by Radiohead, as Darrell Grand Moultrie’s stylized choreography and Bradley King’s dramatic lighting help turn the moment into a showstopper. Nikki Crawford is wonderful as Tedra, a crass but well meaning woman who’s always living for the moment, though Ijames gives her shadings so we see that she has real feeling for her son and also has reasons for her unapologetic behavior. Tedra’s karaoke number, by the way, is a raunchy take on Crystal Waters’ 100% Pure Love and it’s pure heaven.

The play is a compact 95 minutes, but it’s as dense and thoughtful as it is light on its feet and irreverent. Tio (Chris Herbie Holland), a modern-day echo of Horatio, begins the play by trying to figure out if the world of porn is for him, and later delivers an extremely passionate soliloquy-when-high about the sexual pleasures of getting down with gingerbread men.

Time after time in “Fat Ham,” when someone in the family has misbehaved outrageously, usually to great comic effect, it is up to Juicy to occupy the middle ground and address the audience directly in a soliloquy that binds us irrevocably to this most empathetic character. Spears plays these moments to the hilt by always underplaying them. His many dead pans and weighted pauses invariably bring down the house. As for that wonderful ghost, much of his magic derives from Maruti Evans’ set, Dominque Fawn Hill’s costumes, Bradley King’s lighting, Earon Chew Nealey’s hair and wigs, Mikaal Sulaiman’s sound and, above all, Skylar Fox’s illusions design. So don’t let that Pulitzer Prize fool you. “Fat Ham” is the most fun you’ll have at any play this Broadway season.

That “Fat Ham” achieves its happy, even joyful, ending honestly, without denying the weight of forces that make “Hamlet” feel just as honest, is a sign of how capacious and original the writing is, growing the skin of its own necessity instead of merely burrowing into Shakespeare’s. It’s also a sign of how beautifully the cast brings the writing to life. Everyone is excellent, and Thomas’s loud-lady-in-the-pew-behind-you routine is flat-out hilarious. But Spears, with his minute calibrations of feyness and fierceness, holds the whole thing together. In his scenes with Crawford, especially one in which Tedra pleads with Juicy to hold it together — “you don’t get to go crazy” — he lets us see how a character creates and re-creates himself in real time.

Indeed, the play’s most obvious 'Hamlet' winks and callouts, from puns to a few direct quoted passages, cede Ijames’ voice more than is necessary. The playwright’s own prose is lean and precise, with a vibrance of rhythm and association that hardly needs any supplementing. You could pull up to this barbeque with no prior knowledge of the Bard and be very well satisfied. The synergy between Ali, Ijames and the nose-to-tail extraordinary cast are more than enough for a feast.

But there is nothing dour or overly academic about “Fat Ham,” which has been given a blisteringly well-acted production helmed by director Saheem Ali and staged on the wittiest of satirical sets from Maruti Evans. At no point does this play feel like anything other than a big-fun Broadway show: it’s a smart, fearless and often wildly entertaining 90 minutes, filled with radical ideas and absurdist spectacle. To his credit, Ijames is willing to blow up even his own assertions. You get musical numbers, tableaux, crazy comedic antics and a suite of outsized performances from the likes of the superb Nikki Crawford, making her Broadway debut, like many in this knockout cast. I’d go so far as to say I can’t recall such a well-acted Broadway show with so many first-timers.

“Fat Ham” is now opening on Broadway after its two-month run last summer at the Public Theater. It hasn’t changed much, but it’s better. It has the same design and stagecraft, but bigger and more elaborate to fit the larger Broadway stage; it presents the same actors, except their performances are crisper and more confident. It is essentially the same production, but I enjoyed it more on second viewing. That’s because I focused more on scenes like the one with the smiley balloon. Sure, “Fat Ham” won the 2022 Pulitzer Prize for Drama, and the play is inspired by “Hamlet,” loosely adopting the plot and even using some verbatim soliloquys from Shakespeare’s tragedy. But I could forget about the expectations that were raised (and dashed) by these prestige signifiers the first time around, and now relish the silly, sexy and surreal moments that director Saheem Ali make pop in James Ijames’s raunchy, freewheeling comedy. Even the serious concerns, peeking out from beneath the playfulness, have more impact.

What remains blissfully in place is the same delightful cast and director Saheem Ali on hand to spread positive vibes and laughter in great abundance. But it is what has been gained that marks this as a most welcome addition to the Broadway season. For even though a demolition of the fourth wall is built into the script, with characters periodically acknowledging our prying eyes, there is now a lovely looseness to that relationship, giving the production a surprising sense of improv and intimacy in a venue that might well have overwhelmed things by distancing us from the action. You can't help but feel welcome, drawn in, and caught up in the story.

As led by an excellent ensemble cast, the solid production (directed by Saheem Ali) successfully balances the play’s intimate emotional moments, terrific stagecraft (including surprise entrances and exits by the ghost) and far-out comedy.

Over ribs and ribbing, cracked karaoke and a game of charades intended to unmask a villain, Fat Ham keeps you cackling so consistently that the play’s sudden acts of cruelty land like punches in the gut. Yet Fat Ham manages to acknowledge the characters' trauma, especially Larry's and Juicy's, without indulging it.

Which is why Fat Ham feels so fresh and clever. Ijames could have easily transposed Hamlet beat by beat, or pulled a Baz Luhrmann and have his modern-day characters speak in Iambic pentameter (a couple of monologues notwithstanding). But Ijames' characters are as American as pulled pork and baby back ribs, which emphasizes the universality of Shakespeare's work. The credo of Fat Ham is that famous quote about being true to thine own self. That advice was given to Laertes, not Hamlet, who probably could've used it. Juicy, however, follows it to a tee. To take one of the most definitive and hallowed works in English literature and retell it as a comedy about a young, thicc, queer Black boy in the South is revolutionary in its own way, but like "A Fifth of Beethoven," there's a bit of a novelty to Fat Ham, which may say more about the culture in which we live than the play itself.

There’s little faith here that an audience might be able to understand Tedra, Juicy, or the rest of the cookout attendees, so we aren’t allowed to glimpse too much of them. It brings out a bitter, resentful tang in Ijames’s script that doesn’t sit well with the feast — all the more so because it isn’t fully cooked. I’d be interested to see another version of Fat Ham that brings that bitterness out further, slices toward the confrontational bones underneath the comedy. Instead, we get that splashy finale complete with a confetti cannon — played as celebratory, though the insistence on joy comes off as condescending. Watching the characters dance away, freed from their tragic story line, I was theoretically happy for them but left with the gnawing sensation that I didn’t know them much at all.

For a while there’s some satisfaction in experiencing the ways Ijames inventively reconceives Shakespearean plot points and characters. And, on the design front, it’s clever to replace the usual Danish fog with smoke from a BBQ pit on Maruti Evans’ set. Yet you start to get the sense that more effort was spent on meticulously setting up the pins than finally knocking them down. The ending is mush. Still, the cast’s energy is warm and enveloping throughout. Spears’ Juicy, with his sideways glances and Charlie Brown sincerity, is more lovable than any melancholy Hamlet you’ll ever see. Jones doesn’t come across evil enough to kill anybody, but he’s a font of mischievous energy.