Frontmezzjunkies reports: One beloved Broadway hit and one troubled adaptation prepare for their closing performances
By Ross
Broadway can feel ruthless sometimes. One show arrives and catches fire almost instantly, sending audiences out into the streets laughing, quoting lines, and demanding return visits. Another arrives carrying decades of audience affection attached to its title, only to discover that nostalgia alone cannot sustain a musical once the curtain rises. Hearing that both Death Becomes Her and Beaches are preparing to close within weeks of one another carries two entirely different emotional reactions for me: genuine sadness in one case, and disappointed understanding in the other.
The closing that truly stings is Death Becomes Her, which will play its final Broadway performance at the Lunt-Fontanne Theatre on June 28, coinciding with New York City’s annual Pride celebrations. That date somehow feels strangely perfect for a musical so gloriously camp, wickedly theatrical, and joyfully unhinged. From the moment I first saw it, the production radiated confidence and comic electricity. In my original review, I described its opening as “an unexpected electric opening of the highest dramatic proportions,” praising how it immediately teased audiences with “a secret solution that you will die for.”
Adapted from the beloved 1992 film, the musical somehow managed the difficult balancing act of honouring audience expectations while still carving out its own identity. Directed and choreographed by Christopher Gattelli (Broadway’s Schmigadoon!), with a razor-sharp book by Marco Pennette and an infectiously witty score by Julia Mattison and Noel Carey, the production understood exactly how to transform cinematic camp into thrilling stage spectacle. “It gives you all the treats you expect but in ways you didn’t see coming,” I wrote at the time, celebrating a musical that embraced theatrical excess with complete fearlessness.
At the center of its success sat performances operating at full comic voltage. Megan Hilty (“Smash“; Broadway’s Noises Off!) and Jennifer Simard (Broadway’s Company), during the production’s original run, delivered the kind of gloriously oversized Broadway star turns audiences dream about. These “frienemy beasts” clawing through vanity, revenge, and immortality with hysterical determination, and every performance seemed fueled by wicked timing, absolute commitment, and the delicious awareness that the show understood exactly what it was delivering. The current cast, led by Simard, Betsy Wolfe, Christopher Sieber, and Michelle Williams, has continued carrying that manic spirit forward for audiences right through to the final months of the run.
Part of what made Death Becomes Her connect so strongly was that beneath all the vanity jokes and magical potion chaos sat something emotionally recognizable. It is a ride that “bathes itself in glorious viciousness wrapped in envy and revenge,” while still uncovering real insecurity, longing, fear of aging, and desperate hunger for validation underneath all the glamour. Audiences responded to that mixture enthusiastically, helping the production become one of Broadway’s most beloved recent musical comedies. Its upcoming North American tour feels entirely deserved, but knowing Broadway audiences are about to lose this particular production still lands with real disappointment.
The emotional reaction surrounding Beaches feels, unfortunately, very different.
After just 28 previews and 38 regular performances at the Majestic Theatre, Beaches will officially close today, May 24, 2026. Plans for a national tour remain underway, but the Broadway production never found the emotional or critical momentum needed to sustain itself. That outcome is surprising because, on paper, the source material carries enormous affection across generations. The original novel by Iris Rainer Dart and the film adaptation starring Bette Midler and Barbara Hershey remain deeply loved stories about friendship, loss, and devotion. Yet the stage adaptation struggled to translate that emotional connection into theatrical form.
“Memory does a great deal of the heavy lifting here,” and that observation continued to echo through my mind ever since I heard the closing notice. The production constantly seemed to rely on audience affection for the existing property instead of generating that emotional investment organically onstage. Jessica Vosk (ATC’s The Bedwetter) and Kelli Barrett (Broadway’s Parade) worked tirelessly to ground the central friendship between Cee Cee and Bertie, with Barrett bringing “warmth and sincerity” while Vosk carried the show with “commanding vocal assurance,” but the material around them continually fought against deeper emotional connection.
The largest issue rested inside the structure itself. I described the narrative as moving through time “with an almost dissociated rhythm,” never fully allowing emotional moments to breathe before rushing toward the next milestone. Songs arrived and disappeared without leaving much impact, while the book by Iris Rainer Dart and Thom Thomas often reduced major emotional turns into broad sentimental gestures. At one point, I found myself asking directly: “Why is this not working?” Sadly, Broadway audiences appeared to be asking the same question.
That disappointment feels particularly frustrating because glimpses of a stronger musical kept surfacing throughout the evening. There were touching moments between the leads. There was sincerity in the performances. There were flashes of emotional truth struggling to emerge through the material. Yet the production continually kept audiences hovering “just outside the emotional core of the story,” unable to fully access the heartbreak and intimacy that made the original property resonate so powerfully in the first place.
These two closing notices arriving together almost feel like Broadway revealing two sides of the same unforgiving reality. One musical arrived with confidence, theatrical wit, and a fully realized understanding of its audience, earning deep affection in return. The other arrived carrying beloved source material but never discovered how to transform that familiarity into compelling musical storytelling. Hearing that Death Becomes Her is leaving Broadway genuinely saddens me because it felt thrillingly alive every single night. Hearing that Beaches is closing feels unfortunate, especially considering the emotional power embedded in its story, but not entirely surprising. One show found the pulse of its audience immediately. The other kept reaching for a connection that never fully arrived.
