I emerged from “The Notebook” like so many other theatergoers: sniffling and damning myself for not bringing tissues. The story, although familiar thanks to the book source material and film adaptation, haunted me the remainder of the night.
And yet, when I sat down to contemplate this review, all that remained of the passion and emotion that buffeted me the night before were a pair of slightly swollen eyelids. This begged the question: how did a well of emotion run dry so quickly?
Like the watercolors prominent in the show’s branding, “The Notebook” is undeniably captivating, but upon closer examination, you’ll realize that it lacks substantive definition.
The story begins with the elderly Noah (Beau Gravitte) reading from a notebook to his wife, Allie (Sharon Catherine Brown). The two live in a nursing home, albeit separately, because Allie has Alzheimer’s and cannot remember Noah or other major aspects of her life. Every day, Noah reads the story of their epic love saga, which begins when a young Noah (Kyle Mangold) and Allie (Chloë Cheers) become infatuated with each other in their teenage years. Disapproving parents and differing social classes drive them apart until they find each other again as young adults when Noah (Ken Wulf Clark) returns from serving in the military and Allie (Alysha Deslorieux) is engaged to another man. By recounting their tale, Noah hopes to bring Allie back to him, if only for a moment.
Nicholas Sparks’ debut novel, “The Notebook,” was published in 1996 and received a film adaptation in 2004. The musical version, which slightly deviates from the movie (likely for time and narrative purposes), opened in March 2024 and closed in December of that same year. The National Tour under the co-direction of Michael Greif and Schele Williams launched on September 12 at Playhouse Square, giving Clevelanders the first glimpse at the touring production.
Whether told via book, film or musical, the story is an absolute tear-jerker. Take an already charged story and add live orchestration and stunning vocals, and it’s a recipe for an emotional gut punch (there’s a reason the show sold branded tissues).
At first, Ingrid Michaelson’s music and lyrics feel magical and transportive. Each song sweeps you away like it’s casting a spell, full of introspection and sentiment, and the brilliant performers ensure that each song is as vocally impressive as the last. But upon reflection, not a single melody is more memorable than the last; the music swiftly plateaus.
Worse yet, Bekah Brunstetter’s book quickly falls into a predictable formulaic rhythm: inciting incident, emotional song, a bit of witty humor to lighten the mood, then we rinse and repeat. The result is a two-hour show with scenes and songs that blend together like watercolors.
While the cast is stocked with remarkable voices, the most real, touching moments are not found during the musical numbers, but in the actors’ faces during moments of quiet. Mangold and Cheers gaze at each other with the innocent infatuation of two enthusiastic kids experiencing their first love. As young adults, the couple is hardened by life and driven by desire, and Wulf Clark and Deslorieux successfully translate this through their heated looks and obvious chemistry. As older Noah, Gravitte watches Allie with an adoration that staggers in its authenticity, while Brown hardly looks back at him, her eyes glassy and her mind wandering. It would be a true treat if everyone in the 2,800-seat Connor Palace were seated intimately enough to see the storytelling the actors portray in their faces alone.
Most intriguing and moving is Katie Spelman’s choreography of the young, middle and older versions of Allie and Noah as they interact with one another. The younger versions of the couple consistently return to haunt them in their elderly state. This is most impactful during the song “I Wanna Go Back,” in which we see Allie struggling to regain her memories.
Regardless of the stellar performances, the characters unfortunately fail to significantly define themselves beyond their love for one another. Allie is an affluent artist who feels misunderstood and Noah is a lumber worker who enjoys simple-living. Their flaws? Allie is afraid of making the “wrong” choices. Noah, well, his flaw is loving Allie too deeply.
And yet, the vagueness of the characters is likely intentional. Allie and Noah, with their soft, agreeable personalities and round edges, serve as blank canvases upon which we can paint ourselves. The desire to love and be loved with such vigor and unapologetic abandon is such a primal craving that when we see a version of that love, we can become blinded.
Paloma Young’s costume design dresses every version of Noah in earthy brown and the Allies in light blue. While great at helping to distinguish character, the costuming does not effectively help us distinguish time. Had there been no mention of Vietnam, the characters would exist untethered to a time period. The foundation of David Zinn and Brett J. Banakis’ set design is the wooden siding of a home with set pieces that fly in and out to depict the nursing home and a dock next to the water. Ben Stanton uses hanging, vertical fluorescent bulbs as a unique homage to the lighting in a health facility, as well as plenty of misty blues and oranges characteristic of a romance.
“The Notebook” is awash with sentiment, emotion and romance. It knows just the right buttons to push–and the musical notes to hit–to sweep you away, and that is a triumph in itself. Were it not prudent to ask the “why” and the “how,” to examine the brush strokes of the painting and determine how the pieces make the whole, it would be easy to get caught up in that wave of emotion and never notice the often redundant, manipulative tide that carried you out to sea in the first place.
If you’re eager to be swept away with the rain that pours down during Allie and Noah’s iconic kiss, you’ll surely be transported. But if you’re looking for innovation and ingenuity, it might be best to stay out of the rain.
Is “The Notebook” an emotional triumph or a masterclass in manipulation? Both can be true.
“The Notebook” runs through Sept. 27 at Playhouse Square,1501 Euclid Avenue, Cleveland. Visit playhousesquare.org or call (216) 241-6000 for tickets, $42-150.
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