Teeth

Jenna Rose Husli, Wren Rivera, Alyse Alan Louis, Phoenix Best, Helen J. Shen

April 20, 2024

“Take your pick – are you a virgin or a whore?” asks one of the Promise Keeper Girls in Teeth, the sharp-edged (pun fully intended) new musical at Off-Broadway about vagina dentata.

Yes, you read that correctly. Teeth is a musical about vagina dentata, and it’s one of the better musicals, not only of this season but in a few years. Adapted from the 2007 film of the same name by Mitchell Lichtenstein, it explores the body horror of a vagina endowed with sharp teeth but also the societal horror of a binary approach to sexuality and the fetishization of virginity, furthered by organized religion and patriarchal abuse of power.

Directed by Sarah Benson, Teeth features music by Michael R. Jackson and Anna K. Jacobs and a book by both. To successfully present such a story, the material must strike a balance between satire and sincerity, respecting the narrative absurdity while honoring the all-too-present real-life parallels.

Set in the evangelical church town Eden, Teeth tells the story of Dawn, a teen girl and leader of the Promise Keepers, a religious group whose members vow to wait until marriage to have sex. The stepdaughter of a fanatical preacher (Steven Pasquale) and object of her surly stepbrother’s obsession, Dawn (Alyse Alan Louis) is so devoted to purity, she and her boyfriend (Jason Gotay) barely touch, have never kissed and their sweet love duet is titled, “Modest is Hottest.” When the Promise Keepers gather at the church under the guidance of Dawn’s stepfather, they are asked, “Where is your fig leaf?” and “Where is your shame?” (A subtle but clever choice in the musical’s book takes place when the Promise Keepers disparagingly mention a former member who “got herself pregnant”, as if the man wasn’t even involved.)

Shame drives much of the action in Teeth, and that’s when the musical is at its most powerful. These teenagers are being driven insane by their hormones, and repression and ignorance can only lead to disaster and – in the case of Dawn, whose vagina bites off men’s penises when experiencing sexual violence – death.

Teeth’s book has streamlined and updated the film’s story to impressive effect. Dawn’s stepbrother Brad, suffering phyiscal abuse from his father, finds solace in virtual reality forms that condemn “the feminocracy” as responsible for men’s problems. Coached by the self-proclaimed Godfather, the members are named “Truthseekers.” Brad, played with subtle intensity by Will Connolly, presents a conflicted young man also suffering from shame while his father physically and verbally attacks him.

Steven Pasquale as Pastor

Pastor tells Dawn, “He’s jealous, ‘cause even though you’re not my biological child and he is, the two of us could not be more bonded by the blood of the lamb.” 

Jackson and Jacobs’ score is wide-ranging and extremely clever, simultaneously honoring the characters’ suffering while poking fun at the act of musicalizing it. Pasquale, who also plays the gynecologist visited by a panicked Dawn, stops the show simply by shifting the direction of his head before bursting into “A Girl Like You,” a clever pastiche clearly inspired by “Dentist” from Little Shop of Horrors. “I’m Your Guy,” sung by Dawn’s friend Ryan, (Jared Loftin, excellent) parodies the heroic love songs from Disney musicals, while Dawn’s wrenching solo “The Shame in My Body”, is deeply moving.

 It’s hardly a spoiler to say each of these men suffer consequences as Dawn evolves from a mousy, fearful teen to a raging goddess of vengeance. Louis’ performance is outstanding – sincere, funny, heartfelt, terrifying and inspiring. As the Preacher, Pasquale pulses with simmering intensity; his fanatical devotion to his faith, even to the point of abusing his son, is fully embodied and completely believable, and his comedic timing as the gynecologist is impeccable.

 The show escalates during its final moments, as Dawn completes her transformation into a sadistic goddess with her fellow Promise Keepers at her side as they wreak havoc on the patriarchy. Raja Feather Kelly’s choreography, entertaining throughout the entire show, is a standout here, as is Adam Rigg’s set, surprisingly adaptive to pyrotechnics. Jane Cox and Stacey Derosier’s lighting, Palmer Hefferan’s sound effects and Jeremy Chernick’s special effects further transform the suburban-set story into a metaphorical semi-apocalypse.

 The first instinct is to cheer as Dawn transforms from a terrified teenager whose own body torments her with shame and pain into an empowered woman who attacks without hesitation, triumphantly thrusting severed penises in the air. Whether this is a triumph or a tragedy is left to the audience’s determination.