Adapting that resonance from six hour-long episodes into a 75-minute show was ambitious, but MarcAurele’s technique was simple: make lists. He wrote down everything he knew about hockey, Canada, and Russia, as well as sexual puns and double entendres.
“I have lists of slang terms that I’ve compiled and I add to every day. I have lists of sex things, sex positions, sex everything… I literally have so many Google Docs for this exact group. I have lists of current events, things that make me laugh, tropes that move me in other TV shows or books, or anything that I can make filthy.”
MarcAurele wrote and recorded the musical’s demos within three weeks. If his speed suggests confidence, he did wonder in so doing if he would actually complete the show in time for the concerts.
“There were dark moments when I thought, Did I make a terrible mistake by booking these concert dates?” he recalls, laughing. “We’re selling well, but there’s still this plot thing I haven’t figured out… but this will all be so worth it, because there’s this amazing community of people that love this show, and I really want everybody to be able to come together.”
“This is a love letter for the fans, to the fans, to the show, to Rachel Reid, to Jacob Tierney, to everybody,” Kliffer adds. “We wanted to keep that sincerity, because without that, it wouldn’t be quite the love letter that it is.”
Similar love letters rife with queer, campy messages also exist on Broadway right now, in musicals such as Titanique, Cats: The Jellicle Ball, and even Schmigadoon!—three joyful send-ups of their source material playing to Tony-nominated fame.
“That’s what we need right now: we need joy and comedy and connection,” Kliffer says. “That’s what I feel like these musicals provide, and that’s why I feel like there’s been this renaissance of these types of musicals; the best thing that we could do is be together and laugh. I think there’s a security, too, in the romance genre of knowing that there’s going to be a happy ending.”
