Assassins

Even with the wicked, cannibalistic Sweeney Todd currently hacking poor saps to bits on Broadway, Stephen Sondheim’s most (delightfully) perverted musical is still Assassins, his 1991 song cycle starring killers and would-be killers of American presidents. Set in a carnival shooting gallery, the Americana-pastiche tuner (which borders on ’70s concept album) counts among its wily protagonists John Wilkes Booth, Squeaky Fromme and John Hinckley, Jr.

Unlike most musicals, it’s an ideal fit for a storefront company, as it can be high-concept but low-maintenance (read: cheap), and there are no unmanageably colossal production numbers. Open Eye’s production doesn’t take nearly enough advantage of this opportunity; Maher’s direction lacks imagination, and the scrubby design, while possibly a deliberate choice, makes the thing look like urban community theater. Yet there are performances tucked inside that do exactly what they’re supposed to: rise to the challenging heights of Sondheim’s score while transcending Weidman’s undernourished book. In particular, John Byrnes is fine as a slimy Southern Booth, and Noah Simon makes a frighteningly sincere, Jodie Foster-worshipping Hinckley. And as dotty soccer mom Sara Jane Moore, the bobble-headed nut who once tried to shoot Gerald Ford, scene-stealing Sara Sevigny nearly commits grand theft.

Yet Sondheim-philes know any Assassins succeeds solely on its music, and here that’s about 70 percent of the time, as Open Eye’s production seems to have as many singing actors as acting singers. While an inordinate amount of ear-shattering gunfire often tries to make up the difference, there’s no substitute for the whole hog.—Christopher Piatt