American Idiot

Green Day's American Idiot is not a stage musical. Not really.

Yes, there’s a stage, and music too. But the show, if everyone’s being honest with themselves, is really a pair of pseudo-concept albums brought to life: a breakneck run-through and choreographed mash-up of both the titular rock opera of 2004 and selections from its largely unconnected spiritual sequel, 21st Century Breakdown (2009). It prides itself on being as relevant a commentary on the harrowing political climate and rampant economic disaffection of today as its namesake album was in the George W Bush era of nearly a decade-and-a-half ago, but that’s less a reflection of the innately enduring nature of Green Day’s songs than it is a damning statement on humanity’s unreasonably glacial pace when it comes to effecting meaningful social progress.

That’s not to say that this show isn’t still a production, of course, and a seriously well-executed one, at that. On the contrary, many of American Idiot’s practical elements — Josh McIntosh’s clever, tech-infused set design; Matthew Marshall’s rich, imaginative lighting; the integrated, impressive video work of optikal bloc; and the live recreation of the albums’ songs under the guidance of co-music directors Nik Pringadi and Glenn Moorhouse, the latter of whom also plays guitar as part of the exemplary stage band — are unarguably magnificent, all executed, per the vision of veteran director Craig Ilott, with precision, style and a wonderful sense of imagination.

Those aural and visual components ably serve to build the world of Jingletown, USA, where we find our protagonist, Johnny (Ben Bennett) — the self-proclaimed ‘Jesus Of Suburbia’ — and his best friends, Will (Alex Jeans) and Tunny (Cameron Macdonald), whiling away their late adolescence in a haze of beer and frustration with their circumstances and the wider state of the nation.

The trio determine to set off for The City to chase their dreams, but it isn’t to be: Will finds out his girlfriend, Heather (Ashleigh Barlow), is pregnant, and remains behind, while Tunny soon forsakes the rock’n’roll dream to join the army. Johnny, feeling abandoned and alone, strikes up a relationship with Whatsername (Phoebe Panaretos) while balancing a budding heroin addiction enabled by the darkest parts of his psyche, which manifest as the seductive and dangerous St Jimmy (The Living End’s Chris Cheney — Grinspoon frontman Phil Jamieson takes over the role this week).

Cheney gets applause for literally showing up, but his lack of theatrical training is noticeable (his guitar playing, however, is unassailable). The role of St Jimmy may have been played at various stages by none other than Green Day’s lyricist and chief songwriter, Billie Joe Armstrong — as well as, consequently, Melissa Etheridge and AFI’s Davey Havok — but it’s really not a character that necessitates anyone of note filling its shoes. In fact, Cheney’s presence tends to overshadow the rest of the ensemble whenever he’s on stage (which isn't much) by sheer virtue of his pre-existing fame.

That said, the company themselves are largely fantastic. The chorus do a superb job of backing up the core cast, among whom Macdonald and Barlow are standouts, while ensemble member Christopher Scalzo clearly revels in being given a lot to do. Sadly, Bennett, who remains a talented and more-than-capable singer and musician, errs a little on the side of overacting throughout (so, at least in this regard, the show’s minimal spoken passages are a blessing in disguise).

Also among the more hit-and-miss aspects of the production are some of the movement choices made by choreographer Lucas Newland, who seems at least a little bit hamstrung by the limitations of American Idiot’s almost-exclusive dichotomy of punk rock tunes and sad acoustic jams, resulting in more accented shoulder-pumps and slow-motion posing than is probably necessary. That’s not to impugn Newland or the cast’s wider efforts, however, as there are plenty of superbly realised moments, including (and especially) the graceful high-flying cable work of Rowena Vilar as Tunny's nurse, the Extraordinary Girl.

Closing the show with Good Riddance (Time Of Your Life) — a song originally intended as a somewhat embittered, wistful break-up track — is admittedly rapturously received by the audience but really feels tacked on at the end of this story, especially given its wholly unaffiliated roots on Green Day’s 1997 full-length Nimrod and the sense of nostalgia attached through its saccharine co-option by the Seinfeld finale, school formals and graduation ceremonies over the past 20 years. However, its inclusion is part of the original musical, and it would be unfair to lambaste the Brisbane iteration for merely maintaining tradition.

If you’re not an existing or prospective fan of Green Day’s music or the albums from which it takes its song list in particular, it’s safe to say there’s very little here to recommend for you, as the songs make up the overwhelming majority of the show's material, and come hard and fast with minimal reprieve (be warned: there is no intermission). Otherwise, the company at shake & stir theatre co have pulled together an exceptionally polished, faithful and cohesive narrative staging of the American Idiot LP and parts of its follow-up and it’s absolutely more than worth your time to experience it.

American Idiot plays til Mar 12 at QPAC.