“Chess” review: The infamous Broadway flop attempts to shed its checkered past with a powerhouse cast
- - “Chess” review: The infamous Broadway flop attempts to shed its checkered past with a powerhouse cast
Shania RussellNovember 16, 2025 at 11:00 PM
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Matthew Murphy
Lea Michele and Aaron Tveit in 'Chess'
When chess master Johannes Zukertort described the game as "a struggle against error," he may as well have been talking about this musical. Chess is a show constantly at war with its past, and 37 years after it infamously flopped on Broadway, the cult hit is back to keep that struggle going.
Chess devotees know the story all too well: What began as a 1984 concept album evolved and arrived on London's West End in 1986. Bolstered by its sweeping pop-rock score and an intricate love triangle, the show set against the backdrop of the Cold War made its mark, and within two years, a Broadway counterpart emerged. The 1988 production ultimately lasted a mere two months, but that didn't stop the show from garnering a loyal fanbase, enamored with its many hits, from rock ballad "Nobody's Side" to the memorable chart-topper, "One Night in Bangkok."
There were several tours, a few West End revivals, and even some star-studded concert stagings (Josh Groban! Idina Menzel!) But time and time again, each production of Chess received about the same reaction: fantastic music plagued by a muddled story. So, with a book from Emmy-winner Danny Strong and three powerhouse performers at its helm, was that streak finally broken earlier tonight, when Chess lifted its curtains at the Imperial Theatre?
I'm afraid not.
Matthew Murphy
Lea Michele in 'Chess'
The script has been reworked and the characters retooled, only for Chess to end up back where it started: impeccable music, a flat story and a baffling execution. But the eternal contradiction of Chess is that while its flaws are many, it's still a delight to witness. Like those that came before, this lively production is bursting with talent both on and offstage. Much of that is owed to the still-impeccable score from EGOT-winning theater lyricist Tim Rice and songwriters Benny Andersson and Björn Ulvaeus (of ABBA fame). Add in some flawless vocals and the electrifying lighting design (from Kevin Adams) and you can almost ignore its failings.
Chess sees two champions — American a-hole Freddie Trumper (Aaron Tveit) and levelheaded Russian Anatoly Sergievsky (Nicholas Christopher) — facing off for the grandmaster title at the peak of the Cold War. Caught between them is Florence Vassy (Lea Michele), a chess champ in her own right who proves clever and capable, but spends the show hopelessly grasping at agency. As if three leads wrought with emotional turmoil isn't enough, there's also some crucial dealmaking happening between the Russian and U.S. governments, which just so happens to hinge on the outcome of this chess match.
It goes without saying, Tveit and Michele bring the house down every time they take centerstage. Sometimes, even when they're just standing off to the side, they're killing it. Michele radiates power just strutting down some stairs while Tveit oozes charisma even when he's mugging for the camera. Together, they soar above every note they're meant to hit. It's a different story when they're sharing scenes, attempting to convince us of some profound emotional connection, but we'll get there.
Then there's the third lead, Nicholas Christopher, a Broadway veteran with five shows under his belt. From the moment he steps out, Christopher is singing like his life depends on it — and maybe it does considering he's sharing the stage with two seasoned belters. In the end, he more than earns his keep: his Anatoly comes out on top. Christopher is absolutely mesmerizing in the first big number of the night and though it's Michele who gets the big 11 o' clock moment, he ultimately lands the emotional gutpunch of the night with "Anthem."
So put all three together and what do you get? A confounding lack of chemistry. There's no question that these three performers are capable, nor that Tony-winning director Michael Mayer knows how to guide a cast through quiet intimacy and emotional highs (Spring Awakening speaks for itself). Yet the romance between Michele and her two male leads is hollow on both ends.
Matthew Murphy
Bryce Pinkham in 'Chess'
And then there's the matter of the unspoken fourth lead, The Arbiter (a charming Bryce Pinkham doing his damndest to hold it all together). He functions not unlike the narration in Operation Mincemeat, the sensational production happening just a couple doors down. But that script is much tighter. Chess bogs its narrator down with needless exposition and jokes more deserving of an eye roll than a laugh.
And did I mention the show is set during the Cold War? God forbid you forget that for half a millisecond, someone will leap at the chance to remind you — be it the narrator, the dialogue, or the lyrics, you can hardly go a few minutes without hearing the words "Cold War musical" stated aloud. I half expected someone to hop on the intercom at intermission just to jog my memory. And therein lies one of the show's biggest problems.
Current American-Russian relations are eerily reminiscent of the Cold War tension between the two nations, so it's easy to hear the relevance ringing through Chess' lyrics. But that subtext doesn't get to be subtextual — the Arbiter points all of this out himself. Frequently. In its effort to stoke the geopolitical flames with winks and tongue-in-cheek reference, this new book flattens the story to surface level commentary.
Matthew Murphy
Nicholas Christopher in 'Chess'
There's no question that the game of chess offers a rich metaphor for the political machinations always at work. Chess has so much to say about the geopolitical landscape then and now, about the importance of independent thought, the struggle of pursuing greatness, the absolute buffoonery taking place behind closed government doors, and the utter insanity of having your personal passions heartlessly thwarted by the structures of government. But Chess doesn't trust its audience to connect those dots for themselves and it can't get its tongue out of its cheek long enough to do anything with all of the ideas it's kicking around.
There are other highs and lows: The 16-person ensemble is occasionally fun, but mostly wasted. The set is disappointingly sparse. Svetlana Sergievsky (Suffs alum Hannah Cruz) arrives fully formed in Act II, proving Cruz as a riveting scene-stealer despite her underwritten role. And KGB operative Alexander Molokov (Bradley Dean) and CIA agent Walter de Coursey (Sean Allan Krill) add great color and humor to the show — when they aren't tasked with dumbing down the show's themes.
Most of the pieces are there: rich political subtext, three leads with intriguing emotional entanglement, and an absolutely undeniable score — not to mention the perfect cast to sing it. But once again, it doesn't come together. And still, I hope they keep trying. Because for all the roiling frustration this production evokes with its wasted potential, there are still those moments of greatness, where the soaring vocals meld with potent lyrics and the entire theater is rapt. So until the enigma of Chess finally succeeds, at least there's another impeccable cast album to look forward to. Grade: C+
on Entertainment Weekly
Source: “AOL Entertainment”
