Hats off to Ryan Murphy: The man is consistently contradictory. Just a few weeks after his new show Ratched hit Netflix, his adaptation of the 2018 Broadway musical The Prom arrives to the platform gussied up in a technicolor version of the same worshipful high school nostalgia as Glee, and riddled with the same condescension toward “average” people that defined Nip/Tuck and The Politician. Murphy’s fondness for smashing down the walls surrounding certain American institutions and making them available for all to enjoy has never been particularly nuanced, and he directs The Prom with a very similar bluntness. The film’s ultimate admiration of celebrity is only vaguely tolerable because its message of inclusivity is theoretically admirable – but did it really have to be delivered by the likes of a thoroughly exhausting, irredeemable, and self-satisfied Meryl Streep and James Corden?
The event that inspired the film, which originally ran as a stage musical from November 2018 through August 2019 and was supposed to start a national tour in 2020, was a national news story – a high school student’s desire to bring her girlfriend to prom was met with a hostile school board who canceled the prom once the ACLU became involved. The situation dragged on for weeks, and to discuss in too much detail the subsequent actions of bigoted parents and harassing students would give away many of the twists and turns in The Prom, which to some degree follows what actually happened to Constance McMillen, the aforementioned high school student. . Murphy, in turn, adapts the play fairly closely, enlisting Chad Beguelin and Bob Martin (who worked on the lyrics and book of the play) as screenwriters.
The Prom introduces Emma Nolan (Jo Ellen Pellman), the analogue of the real-life high school student, in an opening scene that makes plain what she is up against. In her hometown of Edgewater, Indiana, the PTA meeting led by Mrs. Green (Kerry Washington), during which the parents choose to cancel the prom instead of exposing their precious children to their classmate who happens to be a lesbian, is a real-life pit of despair. “We have no choice,” Mrs. Green sanctimoniously says. Then we’re pivoted to New York City, where two-time Tony winner Dee Dee Allen (Meryl Streep) and perpetual runner-up Barry Glickman (James Corden) are shocked that their new Hamilton-style musical about the Roosevelts is met with negative reviews. “I put on that wig and those prosthetic teeth and know I’m changing lives,” Dee Dee said to a reporter on the red carpet, and that arrogance is what convinces Dee Dee, Barry, unemployed actor Trent (Andrew Rannells), and Chicago chorus girl Angie (Nicole Kidman) to seize Emma’s narrative as an opportunity and march arm-in-arm down a heavily CGI-ed Broadway to celebrate their philanthropic spirit.
The “con,” they decide, is to “appear to be decent human beings” by traveling to middle America and injecting themselves into Emma’s fight against the PTA. Each of the four has their own motivations – while Trent and Angie are genuinely moved by Emma’s story, and the former happens to be in a production of Godspell that has a few stops in Indiana; Barry is reminded of his own traumatic experience with the prom and wants to give Emma the night he didn’t have, and Dee Dee sees a way to bolster her brand and snag herself a third Tony. And so, they all swoop into Edgewater (which is shown sometimes as rustically tiny and sometimes as large enough to support a gigantic mall and country club), proudly declare themselves liberal elites in a “hick town,” and align themselves with Emma and her Broadway-fanatic school principal, Mr. Hawkins (Keegan-Michael Key). “We’re gonna help that little lesbian whether she likes it or not!” is their rallying cry. Of course, because The Prom is a fantasy, there is no real chance of “or not.”
Emma immediately befriends these four adults, going along with their campy antics and performative advice. Does Emma actually have any interest in theatre? Unclear! But in typical musical fashion, the lines between reality and stage constantly blur, resulting in moments that run the gamut from enjoyably spunky to deeply torturous. Emma’s first number “Just Breathe” is sung as she walks through her high school and gets bullied throughout the halls. This song is an opportunity for Pellman to step forward into the limelight. As an actress, she’s a winning find whose earnestness and clear enthusiasm for her character strengthens the film – she shines in practically every pairing, especially when teamed up with Kidman and Rannells and their honest, attitude-fueled advice. Her mentor-mentee relationship with Mr. Hawkins is also very heartwarming to see, particularly for students like me who also have good relationships with teachers, and, through that, Keegan-Michael Key reminds us yet again of why he deserves to be in better movies. She also has very nice chemistry with her secret girlfriend Alyssa (Ariana DeBose), who happens to be Mrs. Green’s daughter – their duet “Dance With You” is evocative of High School Musical’s romantic songs but for a very different audience.
But the issue with the two main actors’ exuberance – Streep digging into Dee Dee’s flirty vibe with Key’s Mr. Hawkins and Corden clearly relishing how often Barry self-absorbedly mentions his theatre past and off-Broadway awards – is how much that folds over many of the film’s beautiful but strange technical choices and the script’s narrative shortcuts. Most confusing is the film’s contrasting messages about individual happiness and communal acceptance. For the most part, The Prom wants to affirm viewers of their moral rightness by insulting the pervasiveness of closed-minded cruelty and mocking how fervently people stick to misguided stereotypes. So many of the Broadway actors’ songs lean into this perspective and, to be fair, are some of the film’s best-shot performances. A high point here is Trent’s solo song “Love Thy Neighbor,” in which Rannells’ character uses the Bible and his own Christian upbringing to chastise Emma’s classmates for their bullying and hypocrisy in a mall. But The Prom pivots in its final third (did I mention this movie is over 2 hours?) into a tidy parable about forgiveness and a cloying narrative turn that begs us to pity James Corden, which I cannot and will not do.
Certain elements of The Prom can be forgiven if you can accept the superficiality of its happy ending and if you allow yourself to be swept up in the cat’s enthusiasm or empathize with Pellman’s Emma. But James Corden is the distraction that derails every scene he’s in, and unluckily for us, he’s in almost all of them. There’s never a sense that Corden is actually becoming Barry Glickman, but rather like he’s doing a bad impression of Nathan Lane or Dom DeLuise. Aside from his bad Southern accent that comes and goes, Corden is playing a gay character without exuding any believable gay energy, has no spark with Streep’s Dee Dee, who inexplicably goes from professional rival to close friend, and brings a noticeable disingenuousness to moments that require intense emoting. That final shortcoming is the most damaging, and makes it so neither Barry’s investment in getting Emma to prom nor his decision to reconnect with people from his past leave much of an impression. There’s too much of Corden to ignore in The Prom, but there isn’t much to like.
“One thing you’ve taught me is how much people enjoy a show,” Emma says to the actors, and that describes The Prom as a whole. Hidden by the neon lights, glittering sequins, and A-list cast willing to have fun with Murphy’s hijinks is another project that can’t decide between sincerity and contempt, and that will ultimately leave you unsatisfied and wanting more, even if there are some incredibly high points.
3/5 STARS