‘Every Brilliant Thing’ Broadway Review: An Avalanche of Audience Participation Buries Daniel Radcliffe

Imagine a PSA on suicide prevention if it were staged in Vegas with lots of audience participation.

That accurately describes the international stage phenomenon titled “Every Brilliant Thing,” written by Duncan Macmillan with Jonny Donahoe, which opened in 2013 and now has hundreds of productions around the world to its credit. “Every Brilliant Thing” finally came to Broadway, where it opened Thursday at the Hudson Theatre with Daniel Radcliffe being the only credited actor.

Unfortunately, there are lots of uncredited non-professional actors in “Every Brilliant Thing.”

Radcliffe is not alone on stage. Not by a long shot. Vicki Mortimer’s set design puts rows of seats on stage, with Radcliffe performing in-the-round. The most exciting aspect of “Things” comes pre-curtain when Radcliffe and a troupe of assistants hand out cards to theatergoers and, in some cases, engage in little private chats with them. 

Even an actor of Radcliffe’s enormous charisma and charm can’t help but be buried in the deluge of audience participation that’s about to be unleashed. There’s no character for this 36-year-old actor to play. Last year, the Narrator in “Every Brilliant Thing” was played by the 55-year-old Minnie Driver on the West End. What’s next? Ian McKellen or Helen Mirren in a geriatric version?

Radcliffe plays the Narrator whom we first see as a seven-year-old boy who brings his injured dog to the vet to be put to sleep. Having played Harry Potter numerous times, Radcliffe knows how to play a child without inducing embarrassment. So far so good.

Then he asks if any theatergoer on stage has a coat. Someone hands him her coat. He asks if anyone has a pen. Someone hands him his ballpoint pen. Then Radcliffe picks another theatergoer to play the veterinarian. Clearly, this woman is someone Radcliffe (or one of those many assistants) had a chat with pre-curtain. Playing the Narrator, Radcliffe convincingly holds the coat as if it were a dog and he tells the theatergoer playing the vet to stick the ballpoint pen into his dog. The theatergoer playing the vet makes the mistake of pointing the pen into what Radcliffe tells her is the dog’s leg. She needs to point it into the dog’s neck, which she promptly does to much fearful gasping and gnashing of teeth from the audience. The coat — that is, the dog — dies and Radcliffe thanks the theatergoer for an acting job well done. The audience applauds and the person playing the vet takes her seat. 

This kind of audience participation happens dozens of times throughout the play with theatergoers playing Radcliffe’s father, teacher, girlfriend-wife, bridesmaids, etc. (All of them just happen to be sitting in the front row on the stage.) There’s applause for all these amateur performances. I’ve never understood why people applaud the performances of amateurs when they paid to see professional actors. This is Broadway, after all.

Much worse are the dozens of theatergoers who, pre-curtain, have been handed cards with words printed on them. These words are the every brilliant thing(s) of the show’s title, and people in the audience shout them whenever Radcliffe calls a specific number. For example, when he shouts, “One!,” someone obediently shouts, “ice cream!” Other numerals provoke such twee responses as “a much needed sneeze” and “wearing a cape.” Many of these responses are inaudible even though some theatergoers’ voices sound amplified.

As Radcliffe tells us, the Narrator keeps this list of every brilliant thing to cheer up his mother who has attempted suicide.

If you’re into this kind of audience participation, don’t feel left out if you’re not one of those theatergoers who has been pre-picked by Radcliffe & Co. to perform on a Broadway stage. About halfway through “Every Brilliant Thing,” you’ll get your chance to perform when a big disco ball floats above the stage and Radcliffe directs everybody to get up and dance. He even leads one of those stadium-crowd waves, as if dancing weren’t enough.

Throughout all this audience participation, my mind remained stuck back on Radcliffe’s seven-year-old boy who holds the coat/dog that’s being put to death by a ballpoint pen/injection needle. We never learn why Mom wanted to commit suicide. Radcliffe lectures us that to assign motive to any suicide is wrong. But one thing is for sure: No decent parent would allow a child to hold his or her dog while the pet is being anesthetized.

Now that “Every Brilliant Thing” has played Broadway, the show’s next stop should be a Celebrity Cruise. At 75 minutes, it’s the perfect length to fill up that awkward gap between the evening buffet and the floating slot machines.

Jeremy Herrin and Duncan Macmillan direct.

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