Did you ever read what Clive Barnes wrote in his New York Times review of VIA GALACTICA, which was the initial attraction at the Uris?

“Well, there is always the theater.” 

These days, many may well say of REDWOOD, “Well, there is always the tree.”

Except that it isn’t so great, either.

When the redwood makes its appearance in the wan new musical at the Nederlander, some might “Ooh!” and “Ahh!” After all, the massive structure that’s covered with authentic-looking bark does soar from the stage right up to the flies. 

But the damn thing is so matter-of-fact cylindrical that it 

comes across as a glorified prop. Designer Jason Ardizzone-West also made a mistake in not having it flare out on each side of the trunk the way that many redwoods do. 

True, a Google-image search will show you that there are redwoods that have the precise shape that Ardizzone-West gave his. However, like everything else in life, some Google-images are more convincing than others; redwoods that are widened at the bottom on each side seem more realistic and far more sturdy. 

Another error: the redwood is planted ker-thunk on the floor without any attempt to make it look as if it comes from underneath the ground. That makes it appear phony, even antiseptic. 

You may be more taken Hana S. Kim’s ever-changing projections that surround the tree. They are stunningly beautiful and offer a multitude of images, some of which manage to come across as startlingly three-dimensional.

The show itself? No one can say that it isn’t psychologically valid. However, there may be some, even many, who won’t find it very compelling. 

Jesse (Idina Menzel) and Mel (De’Adre Aziza) have been married for some time. Jesse’s son from a previous relationship has grown to manhood, and Mel has come to love him, perhaps as much as Jesse does.

An incident that won’t be revealed here causes Jesse to take off from their East Coast home and travel to Eureka, California. It’s the farthest point west (or left, if you will) that one can reach in the United States without stepping into the Pacific Ocean. Menzel aptly captures Jesse’s tortured soul in a way that suggests that she’d still be running she had a road on which to continue.

Taking off on a whim certainly doesn’t endear her to Mel. Jesse’s explanation: “We need to take a break.” Yeah, that’s what someone in a relationship often says when he or she really means “I need to take a break.” 

So, Jesse enters a forest of redwoods and runs into – as you might expect – a crusty old caretaker. Finn is predictably a gruff guy whose bark is as tough as the bark he sees each day, but someone who – will this surprise you? – way down deep is a pussycat if not a kitten. 

There’s a scene in the 1965 film What’s New, Pussycat? in which a pretentious psychoanalyst states “Now I realize that human fulfillment does not come from short, physical, random adventures, but from a deep relationship” – and while he’s saying all that, the words “Author’s Message” keeps flashing above him on the screen.

Here when Finn tells us that a redwood’s “heart is dark but it’s the strongest part of the tree,” it’s a wonder that we don’t see “Metaphor for Jesse!” as one of Kim’s projections.

Finn is adeptly played by Michael Park, who’s just as impressive as Khaila Wilcoxon as Becca, his co-worker. She’s all-business, all-the-time. Well, Drama 101 does dictate that having contrasting characters is always a good idea. 

When Jesse hears that “no one has been able to photograph a whole redwood,” you know she’ll be intent on being the first. 

It’s just one of the “highly irregular” actions that she wants to take. You can depend on Finn to dispense begrudging indulgence and for Becca to be dead-set against any attempt at rule-bending. Out come her objections with religious fervor.

We’re told that redwoods are fire-resistant, and we needn’t be told that humans aren’t. And even though one of those famous California wildfires is approaching the redwoods, Jesse decides to stay, either because she foolishly underrates what power it might have, or because she has a death wish.

We eventually learn what really has driven Jesse to this mental state when she delivers a requisitely tender monologue. The reason is a nice and pat, and one that may make a theatergoer think “Well, yeah, that stands to reason.” 

However, what writers really want from their audiences is “Wow! I didn’t see that coming!” to which they’d add vigorous nodding headshakes. Neither one nor the other of these reactions are certain to happen here.

Clichés abound. Jesse wants “to find someplace else where I can find me” and that she’s “never had the chance to dance before.”

There also some talk about “a life without purpose,” “gender parity pay” and the chance to “color outside the lines.”

Aziza is excellent at showing genuine emotion. Zachary Noah Piser winningly excels in several roles. As for Menzel, we can’t solely judge her on her performance. In addition to being the star-over-the-title, she’s also billed as co-conceiver, and someone who made “additional contributions.” 

Menzel did leave the lyrics to Kate Diaz and Tina Landau; the former composed the music, and the latter provided the book and direction. The show makes such a mild impression that one could surmise that the three collaborators may have made plenty of compromises which could have diluted whatever true punch the story might have had. What’s worse, the lyrics speed by at a pace that makes them hard to understand when joined with the perfunctory music.

Nevertheless, at a recent matinee, Menzel received a good deal of applause and cheers after each of her numbers … and yet, these seemed to be legacy responses. They didn’t have the force of “Oh, I was knocked out by that song and performance!” but “Hey, it’s Idina, and let’s not forget how she’s thrilled us in the past.” One must admit that Menzel is definitely doing everything that she can with the material and she’s met every challenge that she’s given herself – and that includes climbing the redwood. 

We all recall when she levitated right up to the proscenium arch in WICKED. Here, while suspended in the air, once she’s far above the stage, she’s occasionally hanging upside down. Menzel never had to do that as Elphaba.

By the way, when you enter the theater, you won’t see a curtain; instead, there are a number of floor-to-ceiling panels. They’re all white, which brings to mind SUNDAY IN THE PARK WITH GEORGE’s Seurat when he says, “White – so many possibilities.” 

There may have been just as many with REDWOOD, but so very few have been realized.