Elsa is Elvis.
The moment she arrives, in full regalia, the air changes, the room buzzes for a moment, the shriek of the crowd becomes rock-concert electric. You feel all of this, palpably, at the new Disney on Ice production of “Frozen,” which is playing 13 shows at the Allstate Arena before moving to the United Center, for a whopping 21 performances through Feb 8. Elsa, all blue chiffon and Stevie Nicks shawls and hipster-granny hair, in the flesh — in her undrawn, biological state — skates to the edge of the rink, throws a pleasant smile, waves, and the audience (thousands of pre-adolescent girls, tweens, some teens and many mothers) registers with shock.
A genuine, no-joke thrill …
As though she were Jagger, Beyonce …
Fifteen months and almost $1.3 billion in box office since her big-screen debut, Elsa, in her first major post-Oscars project — i.e., brand extension — shows the kind of staying power that only fits inside an arena. She comes across as a post-animation chanteuse, at least as real as Lady Gaga. Children stand in their seats (steadied by their parents) and reach their hands outward as she skates past, and Elsa, full of coiled and repressed energy, with a graceful, confident command of her stage, nods as placidly as Kate Middleton.
But parents, I do warn you, if you are planning to attend Disney on Ice’s “Frozen,” be prepared for Elsas — many, many miniature Elsas, so many Elsas. Walking though Allstate during the show’s opening Chicagoland performance last week, one could not help bumping into stumbling, puffy-cheeked Elsas carrying kaleidoscopically illuminated $30 wands, their blue Elsa dresses poking out of the bottoms of their winter coats. Merchandise booths are a particular hot spot, choked with adorable, shuffling, zombie-Elsas, pleading for stuffed reindeer and tiaras, carrying Olaf the snowman drinking mugs before them with Oktoberfest-like euphoria.
The cultural relevance of Elsa here is so pronounced that eventually something seems off, something seems rotten: Elsa, a queen in the movie, is not even an official Disney-recognized princess yet. And neither is her sister, Princess Anna. Which I note up front because the first 25 minutes of Disney on Ice’s “Frozen” is a noticeable slap, a wholly unnecessary, somewhat defensive argument that the Disney Universe is not just about Elsa, people. An excessively cheerful skater wearing a white coat zipped halfway up, like a Teamster, takes the ice and reminds children of the importance of exercise and healthy eating; then Mickey and Minnie and Woody and Ariel and Cinderella take the ice (to understandably surprised cheers) and skate in circles and show their faces, pathetically desperate for attention. Frankly, I don’t want to know how limber Snow White is. Plus, Nemo on ice, his head poking through the body of an upright skater, is a nightmare.
And then, finally, “Frozen.”
Whatever impatience you have subsides with the first strains of those familiar, durable “Frozen” songs, by the husband-wife team of Robert Lopez and Kristen Anderson-Lopez (he’s behind the songs in “The Book of Mormon” and “Avenue Q”). Once Mickey explains that there are lots of love stories and this is one of them (then mercifully skates away), the show becomes a truncated version of the film, with performers lip-syncing what sounds like the soundtrack. Pedestrian as that sounds, the effect is remarkable before an audience that eats, sleeps and drinks this stuff, more like a chanted incantation than an original production.
Wait, wait: Hopefully you’re attending “Frozen” on ice without expectations of originality, right?
On ice, performed in pantomime, the performers roughly get across the plot of the film (but still: woe to anyone unfamiliar with the story): The young Elsa accidentally hurts young Anna; now a troll is explaining how Anna was brainwashed; now the two girls are women; and now Anna is throwing herself at the first Hans who tumbles into her fruit cart … The whole thing, unintelligible in broad strokes, comes off like an early run-through for the eventual Broadway musical adaptation — and, also, a funny reminder of just how odd it really is to assume a Disney film, particularly one as plot-heavy as “Frozen,” should be adapted for the, well, for the ice.
Also, the coronation ceremony is thin; Elsa’s ice palace is a couple of staircases; her wig is bad; and that reindeer, that lobotomized, glassy-eyed beast, appears to have been taxidermied and pushed onto the ice.
But there is stuff to like: The costumes are as ornate as the animated versions; a cool (inflatable) snow monster grows to gargantuan heights; snowman Olaf, who leads a massive kick-line to “In Summer” (a highlight), is a clever combination of remote-controlled, disembodied snowman parts and a skater in a snowman costume. Not to mention, seeing “Frozen” acted out by actual people, lip-syncing to funny, knowing lyrics, serves as a compelling reminder of just how unorthodox for Disney, how contemporary-rom-com, this material has been.
On the other hand, the biggest problem with the material itself leaps out: There’s not enough Elsa.
Perhaps uncomfortable with a dark female anti-hero who owns her grumpiness, Elsa is offset with a lot of Anna, doing neither any favors. Anna, played here by a terrifically energetic Taylor Firth, dominates the story, but, again, you’re drawn to Elsa. And, as played by figure skater Becky Bereswill — whose seriousness brings needed gravity to a production that never asks for it — Elsa gets a genuine embodiment. Bereswill owns the role. In fact, curious about it, I tried to interview her, but Disney and Feld Entertainment (the longtime producers of Disney on Ice), I was told, don’t allow its stars to talk on opening day in a new city.
No matter.
Bereswill’s background alone is compelling, perhaps telling: A native of Houston, she’s been skating competitively since she was 7, attended business school at the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor and last summer worked as an analyst at Goldman Sachs in New York — I know, right? An ideal, perfect Elsa.
Still, the character is flexible, generous enough in her confidence and success, to have legs. Rebuffed by the real Elsa’s minions, I interviewed a number of miniature Elsas at the show, and Elsa of Downers Grove (Lilli Cawthorne, 11) told me that her “Frozen”-themed Instagram page has 2,300 followers; Elsa of Portage Park (Kristina Kelly, 7) wants to be a veterinarian; and Elsa of Park Ridge (Sophia Labuz, 4) confided in a whisper that she doesn’t like exercise. Which, again, was definitely not the Elsa, or the message, Disney is putting out.
But like Elsa herself, “Frozen,” the film, the songs, the characters, the whole Elsa Industrial Complex, on ice, on TV, in a movie theater, on a Broadway stage, in outer space, projected directly onto your brain stem — wherever it has been, is playing or will appear next — stands impervious, self-possessed, a growth business with no peak in sight. So much so that by the end of the ice show, as Elsa and Anna take a victory lap to a thumping dance remix of “Let It Go,” they’re joined suddenly by Goofy, Donald, Cinderella, etc., but, frankly, that old extended Disney clan appears overly sweaty now, like distant relatives approaching to ask for a loan. You don’t need an Elsa from the Magic Kingdom of Goldman Sachs to note how pale and needy Mickey looks.
Or who really owns the keys to that other Magic Kingdom.
As I gathered my stuff to leave and the performers waved, waved, waved themselves off the ice — A.B.W., Always Be Waving, the apparent Mamet-like mantra of the Disney On Ice employee — I noticed a very small Elsa across from me, still waving, refusing to cease. She wore an Elsa dress, and even as her father pushed her arms into an Elsa-blue parka, she did not stop waving or mouthing the Lopez-and-Lopez lyrics turning in her head. Her dad caught my eye and gave a sheepish laugh, then turned back to his daughter.
“Dude, Elsa has left the building.”
Twitter@borrelli
