Ariana Grande used to downplay the fact that she was a theater kid.
Yes, she began her career as a teenager on Broadway in the musical “13” before finding fame on Nickelodeon. But when she first set her sights on international pop stardom, she concealed that side of herself. She adopted a disaffected persona and wore oversize sweatshirts as dresses with thigh-high boots. That version of Grande was acting like a girl who didn’t care. (In 2015, she infamously licked some doughnuts and created a national scandal.)
Now Grande cares a lot. As a star of “Wicked” alongside Cynthia Erivo, she has thrown herself wholeheartedly into the role of Broadway baby, making it clear that she owes as much to Kristin Chenoweth’s coloratura as she does to Mariah Carey’s whistle tones. She has gone out of her way to demonstrate her commitment to “Wicked,” discussing her long-held love for that Stephen Schwartz musical, dying her hair blond, and announcing on Instagram that she had “decided to put a temporary pin in all things that are not ‘Wicked’ for now.” Grande and Erivo have shown up to multiple events wearing their characters’ signature pink and green. They are not just in “Wicked.” They are living and breathing “Wicked.”
Even beyond “Wicked,” this fall’s movie offerings have provided vindication for theater kids everywhere. In addition to Grande and Erivo, a Tony winner for “The Color Purple,” Lady Gaga brought her theater-kid showmanship to Gotham City in “Joker: Folie à Deux.” And two forthcoming art house musicals — “Emilia Pérez,” from the French director Jacques Audiard, and “The End,” from the documentarian Joshua Oppenheimer — embody the theater kid in essence even if they are less Broadway and more Off Broadway in spirit.
The theater kid is also making headway in other areas of entertainment. The pop star Sabrina Carpenter, in her highly kitschy arena tour, comes across as if she’s auditioning for Lola in a revival of “Damn Yankees.” (At a Halloween-themed show in Dallas on Oct. 30, she sang “Hopelessly Devoted to You” in costume as Sandy, Olivia Newton-John’s character from “Grease.”)
Carpenter also briefly appeared on the Great White Way for two performances as Cady Heron in “Mean Girls” before the show was shut down because of Covid. Cady’s bully, Regina George, was played by Renée Rapp, who in recent years has turned to sexy, radio-ready ballads, while reminding us of her past as a winner at the Jimmy Awards, the high school musical theater competition. Rapp reprised the role of Regina in the movie version of the “Mean Girls” musical earlier this year. And then there’s Chappell Roan, who borrows from drag as she sings her peppy queer anthems, but whose preference for elaborate costumes has gotten her labeled a theater kid, too.
What exactly defines a theater kid? At a minimum, she’s a person who knows her way around a proscenium arch. She probably attended Stagedoor Manor or a similar theater camp, and can ace a quiz on the Sondheim songbook. Her natural showmanship means she’s likely to break into song at any moment, can nail choreography and is intensely dedicated.
In a way the theater kid’s ascendence seems obvious: Hollywood is made up of people who love attention, and many actors got their first taste of that on the amateur stage. But for a long time the term “theater kid” was an insult. Just ask Anne Hathaway.
In 2013 she was in the midst of an Oscar campaign for her performance as the long-suffering Fantine in “Les Misérables.” Though she would ultimately win the Academy Award, public opinion about her was toxic. One hater told the entertainment news site Hollywood.com: “Anne Hathaway is a theater kid whose enthusiasm and earnestness was never reined in, and now she has an international stage from which to project from her diaphragm.”
“Theater kid” was code for an “annoying try-hard who was deeply uncool.” The public wanted stars to feel effortless; theater kids were full of effort and wanted you to know it. They were the equivalent of the class know-it-all. Hathaway wasn’t alone; the rest of pop culture was also turning on theater kids. “Glee,” the ultimate theater-kid television show, was in the middle of its run. The initial novelty of a series about a high school chorus performing elaborate production numbers every week had worn off, and labored, cringe-inducing plotlines had set in.
The stars of an earlier theater-kid staple, the “High School Musical” series, had shaken off their association with that brand and were taking on edgier roles. Vanessa Hudgens was committing crimes in a bikini in “Spring Breakers.” Zac Efron was being peed on by Nicole Kidman in “The Paperboy.” To be taken seriously, you needed an air of danger, which the theater kid lacked.
Lady Gaga, who emerged in this period, was aware of this, and in her early days mashed up her training from New York University’s Tisch School of the Arts with club beats, sexy lyrics and outré, barely there costumes.
You can be theatrical without being a theater kid, which explains how so many stars were able to hide their true nature. What’s the distinction? To be theatrical is to have a flair for the dramatic. To be a theater kid is to make it extremely clear you once played Miss Adelaide in a high school production of “Guys and Dolls,” as Gaga did. Being theatrical can mean being aloof and mysterious. (Think: Björk. Think: Meat dress.) Giving off theater-kid vibes means you have an in-your-face, people-pleaser quality. You want to show off.
Lady Gaga has always had a theatrical bent, though her inner theater kid peeked out a little when she duetted with Tony Bennett, say, or talked about her Method approach for “House of Gucci.” But during the promotional cycle for “Joker: Folie à Deux” this year, she went full jazz hands.
About a week before the release of the musical sequel to “Joker,” Gaga announced that she would be releasing a companion album, “Harlequin.” This wasn’t another spin on the rock genre, like her soundtrack for “A Star Is Born” (2018). Instead, it is a brassy collection filled mostly with standards like “If My Friends Could See Me Now” from “Sweet Charity” and “Good Morning,” most famously featured in “Singin’ in the Rain.”
Frustratingly, the movie itself offered Gaga only fleeting moments to be truly showstopping — one of the numerous flaws that contributed to its low box office haul. But Gaga made up for that offscreen with on-theme outfits for red carpet appearances and an album that played like a tribute to Judy Garland. Sure, she may have quickly moved on to a moody aesthetic to promote her new dance single, “Disease,” but her brief “Harlequin” era was a reminder of her roots.
Even now on social media you can see some resistance to the theater-kid takeover. And it’s true: She will always receive some scorn simply because there will always be those who are allergic to the notion of an actor breaking into song. But these days it feels overwhelmingly as if the earnestness of the theater kid is winning.
Hathaway is now celebrated for her poise and commitment. Rachel Zegler leaped from her high school version of “Shrek the Musical” to Steven Spielberg’s “West Side Story” to a “Hunger Games” movie without ever becoming too cool to belt out “Thoroughly Modern Millie.” Recently, she made her Broadway debut in “Romeo + Juliet.” Last year, the movie “Theater Camp,” which features the rising It Girls Molly Gordon and Ayo Edebiri, avoided eye rolls by offering up a loving parody of the intensity of theater kids. The comedian John Mulaney has done so many musical-related bits that it’s hard to keep track.
We’ve learned to embrace theater kids for who they are and, in turn, theater kids are unabashedly embracing their identities. They may love to play dress up, but in a way they are more exposed than anyone else. What in the past read as phoniness is now celebrated for what it actually is: genuine enthusiasm. And that is as infectious as “Defying Gravity.”
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