You’ve read War & Peace, right? Playwright Dave Malloy did, and it seems he got to the section where the scoundrel Anatole sets out to seduce the engaged ingenue Natasha and thought to himself, “This would make a great opera!” Well, not an opera, exactly, but something close to it: nearly everything is sung, and there isn’t much in the way of structured song until the second act. The opening number a hoot, wherein the cast introduces itself — this is a complicated Russian novel, after all — letting you know that your program lets you know that “Balaga is fun, Bolkonsky is crazy, Mary is plain, Dolokhov is fierce, Hélène is a slut, Anatole is hot, Marya is old-school, Sonya is good, Natasha is young, and Andrey isn’t here.” Oh, and Pierre is stuck in an existential rut, drinking and reading and growing steadily stouter. He used to be better. He tells you so. Just as Bolkonsky tells you he is really old and mean. Just as Mary tells you she is frustrated by her static life. Just about everybody is ready to tell you about themselves and their thoughts, even as they’re interacting with each other.

It starts to feel less like a dramatization of a novel and more like a novel set to music. Some may find the conceit delightful — the play got nominated for 12 Tonys! I found it not so much off-putting as away-pushing; the self-narration, so intimate and immersive in a novel, kept me from feeling with the characters on the stage. And you need to feel with the characters, because the plot is simplicity itself (sort of like an opera). Which isn’t quite the same as clarity itself, especially when it comes to Pierre’s part in things. Kürt Norby sings the heck out of the role, and it’s clear the man has some breakthroughs of some kind — because he tells us so. But his actions and character leading up to them, and even after them, seem…confused. Be assured, however: the second act is much more fun (and tuneful) than the first, and the cast is having a blast throughout (which helps a great deal), and it looks great.