By Bart Greenberg***Sometimes a writer chooses a title that makes it too easy for reviewers to make fun of the show. Such classic bombs as Alive and Kicking (review: “It isn’t”) and The House Beautiful (“the play lousy”) are prime examples. 
Now Nothing Like Broadway! joins that notorious list. In a program note for the latest entry, book writer, composer, lyricist and co-director David Rackoff asserts that the show is “my love letter to old-fashioned musical theater. Guys and Dolls. The Music Man.” Unfortunately, this work does not even vaguely in their league. The best thing about this production is a quartet of outstanding performers. Sometimes, bad theater happens to good actors.
NLB tells a tale set in a very off-Broadway theater/cabaret presided over by an on-stage pianist (Joseph Ivan) who communicates through grunts and growls, and who only books talent who own the rights to their own songs so he can avoid royalties. The resident technician is Milo (Tyler Tanner), a schlubby shy guy who we know is a theater fan because of his faded Follies t-shirt. Eventually, he also reveals an outstanding tenor. And the resident talent appears to be Annabelle 
(Mychal Phillips), a very quirky gamine with a big voice, sounding like she was being dubbed by Sandy Duncan, and claiming complete memories of the hours surrounding her birth.
Two newcomers to this dump include Bixby, aka Agent 00⅓, the world’s greatest spy, as he keeps reassuring everyone in earshot. Mark Zurowski brought extreme handsomeness and a big romantic voice, recalling the early years of Jack Cassidy. Kishka (Josey Miller), another spy, sported an accent that roamed between Russia, Brighton Beach and Jennifer Coolidge on “Two Broke Girls.” She confessed, in song of course, that all the gay men wanted her for her big belt voice, which she amply demonstrated.
The rest of the story involved a secret pill that allowed Milo to find his singing voice, but also served as a homing device for a nuclear weapon. Plot lines also involved everyone’s dependence on an evil Internet website called Squeedle (celebrated in a tiresome patter song called “The Squeedle Song”), an on and off and on and off romance, as well as other 
distractions, including a lengthy discussion about what makes each character vomit—yes, that does tie in to the plot.
Part of the problem of the show was in the acoustics in the Marjorie S. Deane Little Theater. The trio of musicians were shuttled off to the side of the stage, separated from the pianist, so that the trumpet (Robert Williamson) and drums (Laura Harmel) sounded unnaturally loud and abrasive, while the violin/viola (Patrick Shelc) was mostly lost. Also lost were many of the lyrics, especially on the quartet numbers, wherein the performers were competing with the instruments and each other. As to the music, it mostly resembled none of the work of a Frank Loesser nor Meredith Willson, and was often harsh and unformed.
The entire evening was drenched in meta humor, such as one character inviting another to join in on a number, “come we patter.” And Milo was informed that he 
had “to sing the last song” so the first act could come to a close. There was some cleverness in entitling a number “Let’s Have a Reprise,” which referred to both a kiss and the musical comedy term. But whatever small pleasures, beyond the four excellent cast members, that could be found, completely vanished in the last 20 minutes of the show. Here, the audience was informed that this time would consist of one long (very long) period wherein all of the plot lines would be sorted out and resolved. At this point there was a whole lot of running back and forth across the stage, hats being tossed into the audience, actors climbing over the same audience members, and a good deal of screaming. Presumably, this was devised by co-director/choreographer Rosie Corr. It was exhausting for all the wrong reasons. Hopefully, Miller, Phillips, Tanner and Zurowski will find better vehicles for their considerable talents.
Nothing Like Broadway runs through November 23, 2025 at The Marjorie S. Dean Little Theater, 10 W. 64th St., New York City. Performances are each Sunday evening, and tickets can be purchased here.
