The best jukebox musicals, whether on stage or screen, weave together popular, pre-existing songs from an artist with a compelling story beating at its core. But not all that use chart-toppers go on to become hits themselves. For every “Mamma Mia!,” which harnessed the power of Abba’s pop bombast, there’s a “Good Vibrations,” which failed to deliver similar positive vibes from Brian Wilson and The Beach Boys’ music. Unfortunately, “Glitter & Doom” nails only half of its goals in gifting audiences with an ebullient queer love story centered on two performers, featuring songs from the Indigo Girls. Frenetic, repetitious and simplistic, it relies heavily on the stylized spectacle of the song numbers and lyrics to bolster the disappointing drama.
Angsty rocker Doom (Alan Cammish) is having a rough go at life. By day, he makes a menial wage restoring mansions, and by night, struggles to break into the local music scene whose gatekeeper is brutally honest bar owner Boston (Lea DeLaria). Doom is currently sullen, living alone since his drug, booze and love-addicted mother Robin (Missi Pyle) has been caught in the vicious cycle of the prison system. However, one special night, his bleak world turns upside down when he meets and instantly falls for Glitter (Alex Diaz), a free-spirited performer who dreams of attending an elite clown college in France run by Fiasco (Tig Notaro).
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The lovebirds spend as much time together as possible, camping, canoodling and encouraging each other in their respective professions. With Doom’s help filming and editing an audition tape, Glitter is accepted to the exclusive French program and with Glitter’s help, Doom gets a recording session with famous producer The Doctor (played by one half of the real Indigo Girls duo, Amy Ray). But there are threats looming on their horizon. Not only is Robin due for release right before Doom’s first break, thus reminding him of potential failure, Glitter has trouble telling his overbearing mother Ivy (Ming-Na Wen) he’s leaving her nest to make his dreams a reality. Plus they’re facing a ticking clock, as in 29 days they’ll be an ocean apart.
Though director Tom Gustafson and writer Cory Krueckeberg’s ambition and heart are on full display — given this tale is based on their own love affair’s auspicious beginnings — their execution when it comes to the narrative leaves much to be desired. Rudimentary plot and character development struggle to match the brilliance of the deeply felt music and lyrics. In the first act, it’s difficult to get a grasp on the two protagonists as we’re not given many reasons to care about them and their conundrums as individuals, let alone as a couple facing the odds.
Dialogue is unwieldy with characters conversing in heightened, rehearsed playwright-speak versus natural conversation, drawing our attention to the material’s artifice. Crafty metaphors are forgotten by the third act. Conflicts last about the length of a three-minute melancholy ditty, hand-waving away any real resolution. Glitter and Doom struggle to deal with their mothers’ diametric flaws — Robin’s abandonment and Ivy’s smothering — but these supporting characters’ changes are wholly unmotivated. They have problems until they magically don’t.
While the filmmakers exercise assured visual dexterity, smoothly transitioning to and from the gloriously vibrant musical numbers, these segments are cut like music videos, using dizzying freneticism to connote energy rather than letting the choreography, aesthetics and dancers’ performances do that work. This technique, combined with a few redundant story beats, blunts the emotional force and narrative momentum. Not all of these sequences are bungled. There’s a delightful cameo-palooza featuring the B-52s’ Kate Pierson, Beth Malone, Peppermint and Emily Saliers (the other half of the Indigo Girls duo) during the effervescent, flamenco-flavored arrangement of “Get Out the Map.” The finale’s use of “Closer to Fine” and “The Power of Two” works to great effect, lifting our spirits after this spotty sojourn.
Chemistry, or the lack thereof, is another issue as we fail to feel the heat emanating from the leads. Both Cammish and Diaz have beautiful, strong voices that intertwine in gorgeous duets that are almost as magnificent as their music idols Ray and Saliers’ lush harmonies. Yet, despite their sweet charm when paired on screen and their strengths as individual performers, there’s bafflingly little spark. Diaz has a tendency to play to the back of the house whether leaning into the fantastical nature of the material or not. He’s dealt a slight disadvantage in this regard since his character is written as an over-the-top, wide-eyed optimist with colorful quirks — a Manic Pixie Dream Boy for the introverted Doom.
For all that’s frustratingly missing from this adventure, there are a good handful of things to treasure. Sentiments focused on spreading LGBTQ+ inclusion and joy not solely within the community, but universally are genuinely heartening and ultimately the authentic grounding force to the more fantastical elements. It’s a celebratory, reverent notion that all of life’s tough circumstances can be solved, or at least helped, by singing an Indigo Girls tune — all of which contain the power to transform lives for the better. Still, it’s hard to walk away without thinking that another script pass might have made this musical journey closer to fine.
