In ‘Lempicka,’ an artist with a big, messy life gets a big, messy musical

“History is a jerk,” says Tamara, played by Eden Espinosa in the new musical “Lempicka.” “But so am I.”

The creators of Lempicka — book, lyrics and concept by Carson Kreitzer, music by Matt Gould — wanted their protagonist to be many things: feminist, sexual revolutionary, groundbreaking entrepreneur, tortured artist , victims and survivors, and the passing fashions of martyrdom art and history. There’s enough evidence from the real Lempica’s life to justify most of these claims to some extent, but this musical wants to prove absolutely all of them in the space of two and a half hours. The result is a breathless, fast-paced journey through the darkest decades of European history, a vast, chaotic, fascinating life processed into a grand and chaotic drama.

The musical, which premiered at the Williamstown Theater Festival in 2018, is presented as a flashback: In 1975, an old and miserable artist sits alone on a Los Angeles park bench and reflects on his life and career and wondering “how did I get here”? Her work was forgotten and outdated, and she was banished to a world far removed from the wisdom and sophistication she once had.

Time flashed to 1916. She was young again and about to get married. Her mother begged her to give up painting and live a decent and decent life. The revolution intervened, and off we went, heading toward the first great trauma along the highway that Hamilton had built. She was forced to hand over her body after she failed to win the freedom of her husband, Tadeusz, by offering jewelry to the menacing Bolsheviks.

The young couple fled west, their flight traced on a map above the stage (designed by Riccardo Hernández), which will also display fragments of the bright, sensual, slightly cold Art Deco paintings of the real Lempicka, who ‘s work has been collected and promoted by Madonna. A beguiling troupe of dancers (choreographed by Raja Feather Kelly), by turns androgynous, vulgar, sinister and campy, set the tone for a wild idyll of ambition, success and debauchery in interwar Paris.

Lempicka’s art is mostly represented on stage with empty easels and empty frames, and history is treated the same way: presented as shadow rather than substance. The revolution that disrupts the protagonist’s life is brutal, but the actual grievances that sparked it are conveniently ignored. Decades of deprivation, suffering and political violence pass by in black-and-white film clips. If you want to learn more about this and how it intersects with art, check out MoMA’s exhibition on Käthe Kollwitz, an artist a generation older than Lempicka who left an even greater legacy.

In Lempicka, as they say, history is just one dance after another. It evokes shock and vibration, shaping the identity and resilience of the artist, which does not produce a real character but more like a ready-made hero in line with contemporary political tastes.Espinosa did a heroic job tying the threads together, but instead of inhabiting As a multifaceted character, she must coordinate multiple roles to serve various dramatic purposes.

Lempicka has an affair with the self-reliant prostitute Rafaela (brilliantly played and sung by Amber Iman), and her compositions—confident female portraits and statuesque nudes— Hailed as liberating by LGBT regulars at Monocle nightclub, it feels a lot like the Kit Kat Club in “Cabaret.”

She also gains significant independence from Tadeusz (played with prim elegance by Andrew Samonsky), but when she tells him a terrible secret, the scene falls flat as their Relationships are never coherent. She forges her own path, resisting the cold modernist ideology of Futurist prophet Marinetti, portrayed by Georges Aboud as a nasty drunkard and cruel social prophet. But it’s not clear whether we should admire the artist’s independence or her pragmatic, even cynical, submission to elite taste. The show seems to praise her not only for embodying the new feminine ideal of the 1920s, but for inventing it. “Your women,” said Raphaela’s ghost, “they are taking over the world.”

Director Rachel Chavkin’s production is stylish and fast-paced, allowing plenty of room for some truly dramatic moments.Iman’s “The Most Beautiful Bracelet” Scene 1 Beth Leavel’s performance in the second act, a tender, determined yet resigned song about love and memory in which she played an aristocratic woman facing death, was a highlight of the evening.

Gould’s music lacked a strong melodic character and tended to veer quickly to big, strong notes in order to flatter his singer’s voice. But the textual setting is clear and effective, and when the drama – Leavell’s heartbreaking acknowledgment of death – becomes the most important thing, the music seems to disappear.

The real Lempicka is having a blast right now. Her work is on display at Sotheby’s and will receive the museum treatment in a retrospective in San Francisco later this year. She’s not as famous as she deserves, but she’s not as forgotten and lonely as this musical claims. After she immigrated to the United States and Mexico, her career struggled. But it had already been rediscovered in the 1960s, became the subject of a major retrospective in Paris in 1972, and has appeared in Madonna’s videos and performances for decades.

In a review published in Women’s Art Journal in the late 1980s, a slightly dyspeptic critic argued that Lempica’s art had been rejected rather than forgotten: “Her decorative Artistic portraiture is largely unknown today for two reasons: it is hopelessly outdated, and everything was not very good to begin with.

Lempicka challenges both assumptions. Viewers may be inspired by the exhibition to seek out art itself, providing a more measured and reasoned counterattack.

Lempicka, located at the Longacre Theater, 220 West 48th Street, New York. 150 minutes, including half-time. lempickamusical.com.