Where history and nostalgia meet on stage

The year is 1917, Imperial Russia. The ruling Romanov family has just been imprisoned by the rising Bolshevik party, and is killed shortly thereafter. Following their deaths, rumors begin to stir regarding their passings—or perhaps, persistence. Impersonators assert themselves as the lost Romanov children, most notably Anastasia, but their claims are each disproven in time. The Romanovs, previously one of the most powerful dynasties in Russian history, have fallen. 

Compared to a textbook, “Anastasia,” the musical playing at the Geva Theatre, is for the fainter of heart—but it’s not fully deprived of its potency. The show, adapted from the 1997 Fox Animation Studios film, follows the titular princess’ story as the sole survivor of her immediate family’s execution. In the performance, she’s known as Anya (Quynh-My Luu), a street cleaner with a bout of amnesia surrounding her royal past.

When rumors spread in Leningrad (St. Petersburg was renamed after the Revolution) that Anastasia might still be alive, Anya is swept up into the plans of two con men—Dmitry (Jeffrey Kringer) and Vlad (Brian Vaughn)—looking for an imitation princess that’ll help them escape Soviet Russia and reap the cash prize of her return. Obviously, nobody knows that she’s the real Anastasia—a carefully kept secret between the audience and the playbook. 

Geva’s performance sets the stage simply: a two-tiered balcony set accompanied by variously swapped stage dressings of mixed historical accuracy (the Times New Roman approximation plastered on a PVC backing was a bit distracting). Beyond my nitpicking, the set transforms smoothly from St. Petersburg to Paris and bobs in and out of each city’s intimate spaces: palaces, schmoozy nightclubs, bedrooms, and the like. 

The score, designed for a 13-musician ensemble yet impressively played by six, follows thematic suit with contemporary lilt and light flairs of dramaticism. It’s nothing you’ve never heard before, but it’s lush, well executed and fitting for the PG13 plotline across Europe.

In tandem, the ensemble plays a similar role in cleanly defining the show’s atmosphere. You see it through their movement—their imitation of bumpy train rides and picturesque static tableaus. In the costuming, a royal St. Petersburg spins to life in elegant ballgowns, Leningrad in drab (yet decently fashionable) rags, and Paris in an array of flapper dresses, pastel suits, and gowns once again. 

Act I’s plotline is a bit predictable (particularly with the audience’s gift of foresight), but the experience stays well above water through the main trio’s synergy and potent ensemble work. The romantic subplot, however, is where things drag. 

Obviously, Anya and Dmitry have to fall in love, but the show’s dialogue pushes the romance too fast for the natural portrayal of its unfolding.

Kringer well depicts the transition from awkward tension to romantic realization, as does Luu. When Vlad first pokes Dmitry about their plan’s slim allowance for romance, the poor guy hasn’t even realized his feelings yet.

The same can be said for Gleb (Adam Rennie)—the show’s antagonist and a one-person depiction of the Soviet Union. While he’s supposed to be torn between his feelings for Anya and familial-political obligation to kill her, his turmoil barely cuts through an otherwise neutral performance. With practically three reprisals of his song “The Neva Flows,” I expected a harder push.

Yet, when staging and script aligned, a sheen of magic enveloped the stage. Stage-made sweat glistened like teardrops in emotional ballads—a highlight of which was “Stay, I Pray You.” At points, I found “sweat” welling in my own eyes, too.

While it wasn’t the evening’s tear-jerker, Anya’s graceful “Once Upon a December” had me shivering in my seat with a similar entrancement. The ensemble’s chords entered hauntingly—further intensified by a soft wash of reverb—with their dancing silhouettes following close behind. The manner of which: a clever concealment by the set’s dual-tiered array of curtained windows. The production’s theatrical magic was technically well executed, decently followed by the performers, and dutifully designed for the stage’s smaller space. 

Act II shakes off its roteness and picks up the show’s speed tremendously. Now set in Paris, the ensemble sparkled (both literally and metaphorically) through a series of showy tap and flap numbers, enamored by the jubilant city streets and constantly-swapping set fixtures. While Leningrad felt (purposefully) glum and a bit empty, Geva’s Paris was bustling, and to quote the show—“magnifique.” 

Most notably, Vlad’s love interest Countess Lily (Tiffany Topol) finally makes her debut in the second act, which is well worth the wait. Despite her limited time on stage, Topol is refreshingly bold with her blocking, complementing her understandably hardened scene partner, the Dowager Empress (Debra Cardona).

Vlad and Lily (and Lily’s phenomenal bob) take the crown as the evening’s power couple. I was quite charmed.

Overall, the show particularly shines in its confrontation with memory, an overarching theme of the performance, evident in both melodic and spoken motifs. In a way, the audience plays along with Anya’s realization of self: we see her ghosts travel with her. Each reprisal strikes dual meaning and hits the heart twice as hard. A highlight of this—the second act’s ballet sequence, which also comes inches away from the fourth wall through its audience-oriented staging and playful leitmotifs.

If you’re looking to tap into movie-drawn nostalgia or conjure new memories of your own, Geva’s “Anastasia” is a fair place to start. 

The production will run until June 28 at Geva Theatre. More information on the production can be found at its website.

Alex Holly is a Rochester Beacon contributing writer and member of the Oasis Project’s second cohort. 

Correction: An earlier version of this post contained an error. The 1997 “Anastasia” movie was produced by Fox Animation Studios. Disney acquired 21st Century Fox in 2019.

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