I would like to preface this review with two disclaimers. One, Megan Hilty was sadly out when I went to see Death Becomes Her, so I will be reviewing Dee Roscioli instead in the role of Madeline Ashton. And two, I have never seen the film Death Becomes Her, so I will not be judging this show as an adaptation.

The term “camp” is one that has been overused and misused in recent years, and has seemingly been ascribed to any drama that can be viewed comedically. Yet when you’re watching an actress do several outfit reveals into queer icons—the most notable being a headpiece and dress resembling the progress flag—as her stunt double does splits as Liza Minelli, all while the ensemble sings a song titled “For the Gaze”, there is no word to describe what you’re witnessing other than camp. Death Becomes Her is a wildly ambitious show with jaw-dropping costumes, brilliant set-pieces, and powerhouse performances across the board, but its strongest attribute has to be its tongue-in-cheek, hilarious, and bizarre writing.

Death Becomes Her follows two old friends who love one-upping each other: self-absorbed starlet Madeline Ashton (Dee Roscioli) and snarky failed author Helen Sharp (Jennifer Simard). Due to Madeline’s shining career and penchant for stealing Helen’s boyfriends, Helen is typically on the receiving end of the one-upping. However, that all changes after Helen gets engaged to plastic surgeon Ernest Menville (Christopher Sieber). What ensues is a gut-busting comedy that escalates to hilarious degrees. Whether it’s a raunchy play on words, a snide one-liner, or truly unhinged physical comedy, Death Becomes Her proves itself unafraid to go the extra mile for a laugh. I have personally never had so much fun at a Broadway show.

But outside of its humor, the book of Death Becomes Her remains wonderful and fresh. Its tackling of complex female friendships is a refreshing one, as it is never lost on the audience that Madeline and Helen have a strong bond—even if they are reluctant to admit it. Every scene they share is electric, as Roscioli and Simard go bar for bar in sheer mania. I also think the incorporation of Ernest Menville into the plot was brilliant; if he was merely the object of these women’s affections, he would be a boring character that felt out of place next to the powerhouses that are our leading ladies. Instead, his noncommittal nature and subsequent alcoholism is exploited expertly for laughs before his arc concludes in a surprisingly tender but fully earned outlook on life.

And truly, it’s Death Becomes Her’s messaging about unattainable beauty standards that elevates this musical from one of the best ways to spend 2 and a half hours to a slam dunk. The premise is the same as the film, where Madeline and Helen drink a magical potion from Viola Van Horn (Michelle Williams) in order to gain eternal youth… as long as they take good care of their bodies. Their reasons range from revenge to regaining old glories, and the show never outright shames them for their choice, but the beauty of aging is a theme that resonates especially hard during the ending. After all, what’s the point of clinging onto youthful beauty that you will never have again? Wouldn’t it be better to live out your days with someone who loves you as you are? I expected to laugh constantly during Death Becomes Her, and I certainly wasn’t let down in that department, but I never expected to be oddly touched too. 

The show around this story is positively dazzling, from the mind-blowing visual effects to the hypnotic choreography to the enchanting songs especially. To this day, I’m left stumped as to how two moments in particular were achieved. And every time Viola’s legion of eternally youthful models appear for a number, they stun with their fluid, in-sync movements. However, while Viola’s numbers are always fun to hear and especially watch unfold, I did personally think that the show’s best songs were the ones that heavily featured Madeline Ashton. “For the Gaze” and “Tell Me, Ernest” are extremely catchy and capitalize on the actress’s shallowness perfectly. Roscioli’s facial expressions sell every moment further. However, my personal favorite song had to be “The Plan”, which is absurd in all the best ways and has to be the funniest number of them all! Sieber has a few lines in that song that are playing in my head on repeat to this day and almost stole the show with that moment alone.

With that being said, the acting highlight for me was Jennifer Simard. Helen Sharp doesn’t necessarily get the best songs nor the immediate theatrics, but Simard is a scene stealer nonetheless with her dry wit and infectious deadpan delivery. Look no further than the iconic “That. Was. Rude. That was pretty fuckin’ rude”! Helen’s descent into madness is so thrilling to watch, and Simard brings so much life and energy every step of the way. 

All in all, I loved Death Becomes Her. The show is over-the-top camp in the best possible way, and I would highly recommend anyone in search of a fun time to seek it out. Just keep your head on straight, since it’s a wild ride.

9/10