Aurora Penepacker and Evan Tyrone Martin Photo by Liz Lauren

And now, the long-delayed Chicago premiere (damn you, COVID!) of Dave Malloy's (book, music, and lyrics) operatic musical based on a tiny chapter of this lengthy tome, Natasha, Pierre & the Great Comet of 1812, is one of the most sumptuous productions in recent history. It easily has the best set I've seen at Writers Theatre with its huge, opera-like stairways and alcoves where musicians ply their trade. And the performances are universally remarkable, thanks to brilliant work by director/choreographer Katie Spelman and music director Matt Deitchman. Despite the fact that it has utterly abandoned its initial Broadway immersive structure, this version, which fits Writers perfectly, may provide a framework for future revivals.

The fact that I am a bit unsure of some of the play's idiosyncrasies does nothing to alter the fact that I am in awe of this production's beauty and style and can easily recommend it. The playwright's choices are not always consistent, but the "complicated Russian novel" that the cast introduces in a unique and enjoyable prologue that acknowledges the "nine different names" of each character and implores audience members to "look it up in your program" (where there is indeed a simple graphic to help keep things straight) has morphed into a lush, fascinating–if a bit inconsistent–piece of theatrical storytelling.

The main characters (aside from Courtney O'Neill's mind-blowing set) include, of course, Natasha (an impetuous teenage girl away from home for the first time visiting her pious godmother Marya) and Pierre (a much older "unhappily married" man who can frequently be found pickling himself in a club so he can temporarily forget his life and its problems). In Aurora Penepacker and Evan Tyrone Martin, casting director Katie Galetti has gifted Spelman performers who are not only fascinating but utterly embody their parts. This Natasha both looks and acts like a young girl being seduced by the unknown, while Pierre feels just as exhausted and broken as he ought to.

The rest of the cast are no slouches either. Bethany Thomas plays Marya and lends just the right gravitas to the role. Joseph Anthony Byrd makes a compelling and self-assured Anatole, the young noble who, ignoring the fact that he is already married and the further fact that Natasha is engaged (to Andrey, whom the prologue informs us "isn't there"), decides to make her his latest conquest. Maya Rowe is full of selfless compassion as Natasha's cousin Sonya, who stands by her no matter what poor decisions she makes. Bri Sudia is Anatole's brash and openly sexual sister Hélène, who brings about the fateful meeting between her brother and Natasha. Sudia probably has more fun with her part than anyone else–except perhaps Jonah D. Winston, who plays "Balaga, the famous troika driver."

Spelman too has lots of fun on one of the biggest sets I've ever seen at Writers. (Last season's Eurydice set was more massive, but less effective.) Elegantly lighted by Yael Lubetzky, the set places the audience precisely where the chorus tells us we will be: "at the opera." There is even a theatrical curtain upstage that opens or closes to remind us, should we forget. Raquel Adorno's costumes are perfect, as is Eric Backus' sound design, which is as at home in the bombastic opening number as it is in some of the recitative late in the play. The whole production is beautiful, every element complementing the rest.

As much as I did enjoy it, though, I feel that Malloy's work is somewhat schizophrenic. After opening with that broadly comic ensemble number that introduces, well, everything, he follows with a straightforward and deadly serious interpretation of the soap opera stuff that my sophomores found pretty much everywhere, a lot of which might have been better handled with a looser rein. Other than the opening and the wonderfully nuts Balaga scene, too much of this is just too serious, and the recitative just makes it more so. I mean, hey, this isn't Les Miz; it's a play that prominently features a flighty teenage girl whose affections change as easily as Romeo's when he meets Juliet and ends with Pierre having a life-altering epiphany because of a comet. (Yes, it's the "great" one of the title, which–based purely on the lack of set-up–seems as much a surprise to the playwright as it must have to the characters who witnessed it). I'm not suggesting Malloy should have written a farce–elements such as a suicide attempt are not ever going to be funny–but if you're going to start with a fun, bouncy, comic song that openly acknowledges the plot's silliness, it feels a bit bait-and-switch to treat the rest like ultra-serious drama.

Still, as I have said, you simply won't find another show playing right now that is as stunningly well done as this one. It may be somewhat inconsistent tonally, but it's a memorable night of theatre.

Natasha, Pierre & the Great Comet of 1812 runs through October 27, 2024, at Writers Theatre, 325 Tudor Ct, Glencoe IL. The show runs approximately 2.5 hours; there is one intermission. For tickets and information, please visit www.writerstheatre.org.