The 2025 Broadway revival of Chess just announced its closing, and one refrain I've heard is that the original London script, or the 2008 Royal Albert Hall concert, is the version that should just be enshrined in the future. And I've written reams of things about my concerns for the London version of Chess. But I never actually finished my lengthy post-mortem. I want to rectify that, for anyone who finds this blog at all interesting.
If you don't know the background: the 1986 production of Chess almost didn't happen. The director, Michael Bennett, withdrew with health problems. He turned out to be dying of AIDS - a fact not shared with lyricist and force behind the musical, Tim Rice. The extremely polished director of the moment, Trevor Nunn, jumped in to save the show - but he demanded that he get creative control over the Broadway transfer. This was granted, and Nunn went ahead with finishing Bennett's work.
The physical staging of the original production mirrored this compromise design. The stage was a fully underlit, tilting, turntable chessboard that sometimes put the actors in danger. They were accompanied by large banks of television screens for some scenes. This fit with Bennett's design for the original - a sort of "seamless choreography" in a brightly lit MTV-like spectacle. To this, Nunn added ... chairs. Lots of chairs. The cast made fun of the show and called it "Chairs" instead of "Chess." Nunn's heavily detailed "cinematic" vision with dynamic towers and rapidly changing sets was fully realized on Broadway. The division is reflected in the script, where "The Deal" and "Endgame" are closer to Bennett's vision while Nunn's heavy hand is present through other numbers.
Until 2001 with the Danish "Complete Cast Album", there was no recording of the London score for Chess. The concept album created most of the production's legend. The short-lived 1988 Broadway cast was recorded, but the new songs and orchestrations for the London production were lost. And the production was only put on in the UK and Europe, while in the US the Richard Nelson script from Broadway was obligatory. Obviously it all became more accessible with "Chess in Concert" in 2008 which showed more of the production. But problems with the casting make this the least listenable of all of Chess's many recordings.
Like the London show, this post has far too much prologue. "The Story of Chess" and "Merano" combine for almost 13 minutes on the 2001 recording. It takes 21 minutes to get to "Where I Want to Be" - the show's "I Want" song. It's usually best to get to this within about 10 minutes, since before that there usually isn't much of the musical's dramatic action. Freddie is also introduced three times in three straight numbers; "What a Scene, What a Joy" interrupts "Merano" and establishes his swagger, "Commie Newspapers" gives exposition about his relationship with Florence, and "Press Conference" establishes him as a jerk. This is a bit too much introduction.
The numbers from "Opening Ceremony" on the album are reordered but nothing really has any dramatic action. "The Arbiter" is moved after "U.S. vs. U.S.S.R." and "Merchandisers" makes some jabs at 1980s consumerism. But they are all scene-setting. Nothing happens for ten minutes on stage. We've now spent 45 minutes in the theatre, and gotten nowhere.
Then "Chess #1" hits, and we finally get to what I call the "well-oiled machine": Quartet, 1956 - Budapest is Rising, Nobody's Side, and Mountain Duet, leading to Chess #2 and Florence Quits. With some changes and additions, this is the basic dramatic spine of every version of Chess, and the most effective part of its dramatic structure. We have clear conflict between the two sides, we have the forbidden romance grow between Florence and Anatoly, and we have a few certified bangers in there for good measure.
And then we stall out immediately. After "Florence Quits," the correct move is made in the concept album; this is the place for "A Taste of Pity," a short song from Freddie. But the original London production placed "Pity the Child" here - spending far more time than we needed with him. And it's too early in the dramatic order for it to make sense. It's not an accident that the 2008 concert and 2025 Broadway revival follow the concept album here.
The defection sequence, which should be very dramatic, turns out to be rather dull overall. "Embassy Lament" is a bit of a comic patter number, and then Florence sings "Heaven Help My Heart" because it's time for her to sing now. A pretty song, but in this placement it fails to convey the substance it needs to. Florence is worried about this whole affair, but we're stopping the defection scene just to get a solo that could just as well have been in Act II. "Anatoly and the Press" is too short; the longer 1988 Broadway version is better. At least "Anthem" is a perfect Act I closer.
Act II opens with "One Night in Bangkok." It gives the chorus more to do. Sadly the "Golden Ballet," a lengthy instrumental entr'acte with a ballet segment, seems to have been completely cut and has never been recorded. (This should not be confused with the shorter "Golden Bangkok" which matches what was on the concept album.)
Then we have "One More Opponent," a sweet little song that is basically an info dump. And "You and I" - now written as a love duet for Anatoly and Florence, with an upbeat conclusion. I don't think it was necessary, and I think the concept album track "Argument" which has been lost from the show's production history is stronger. It at least does more to build Anatoly's drive to win his second match than anything in the London script.
Which does bring us to the split-match problem. Basically: we spent a bunch of time building up to the Trumper-Sergievsky match in the first act, and it's now resolved. Freddie lost. The pressure is off, and Anatoly is a world champion. He is instead defending his title against a cypher from Russia named Viigand. We aren't really invested in the second match as an audience. The 2025 Broadway script used the idea that Freddie forfeited rather than losing outright to give Anatoly some more motivation.
So anyway. We get to "The Soviet Machine." Like everything in the London version, it is good but a bit too much. A fun three-and-a-half minute number with some Cossack-style dancing gets stretched for another one and a half to two minutes with a long, droning part. It's unnecessary and kills the momentum, which is crucial in the second act.
This leads us into the deep plot. Molokov calls Walter and tells him about Florence's father, and makes the whole pitch about getting Florence's father back. In terms of plot, we now have a background element from Act I becoming central. Meanwhile "The Interview" provides a great dramatic confrontation between Freddie and Anatoly - an underrated moment between them. Many revisions of the London production, including the 2008 concert, place "Someone Else's Story" here and give it to Svetlana, but I find that this kills the momentum that has been building.
"The Deal" in the original London production was a masterful expressionist piece of staging, but I maintain that it would be very difficult to make it happen in a realistic film, because characters go from place to place and sing rather abstractly at one another. London also made the crucial mistake of cutting Anatoly's lengthy response to Freddie ("Refugee / total sh*t" etc.), weakening the important scene between them. But it's fast and it's fun and it makes things good and dramatic.
Then we hit "I Know Him So Well," where Florence and Svetlana sing because it's time to sing again. It's a great number but there's no context here. This should be a weighty encounter but it just doesn't do anything dramatically. Of course it still gets a hand because it's pretty. That brings us to "Talking Chess."
I maintain that "Talking Chess" is the crucial problem for the entire show. For almost three hours you've been following a show where Florence is the emotional center of the work. Now, at the last moment, we have to shift everybody's priorities. Florence getting her father back isn't important. Freddie's impassioned "It can all be different now, Florence, I love you" in "The Deal" doesn't matter; how can Anatoly let mediocrity win? Anatoly sang some nice things about his love for Florence in "You and I" but he isn't willing to lose for her.
The structural issue that Chess faces is that Anatoly is the protagonist, but Florence is the main character. What I mean is this: Florence is the emotional and tonal center of the piece. She gets top billing and the final bow. She has two or three solo numbers, several major duets, and the most time on stage of anyone. She is the last one who is going to be on stage. But it is Anatoly's action that matters in the end, and Anatoly chooses to win.
At this point I have to express my working theory of Chess. I think that the most important lines are the finale of the London "Endgame":
"Is there no one in my life
Who will not claim
The right to steal
My work, my name
My success, my fame
And my freedom?"
My feeling has been, for twenty-five years, that Chess is to some degree about Tim Rice facing the pressures of fame, success, and love affairs. Anatoly is a married man who has a love affair with Florence, in no small part, because Tim Rice was a married man who had a love affair with Elaine Paige. And I think a lot of "Endgame" is Rice expressing his feelings about the expectations that others have placed on him.
But we have not been heading here in a direct path. The Anatoly who appears in "Talking Chess" and "Endgame" and "You and I - Reprise" in the London script has not been sufficiently built up. We understand his defection in Act I; we don't understand his dissatisfaction in Act II. "Argument" was cut, which really gave us the only hint of it we get.
"Endgame" is a glorious piece of musical theatre. It works as a number. (Even though Tim Rice's cleverest phrase, "Take my blues as read," is one you can only catch when you read the written lyrics.) But we don't land anywhere satisfying from it because we never earned Anatoly's angst. And the ending, where Walter tells Florence she isn't getting her father back and she sings a few bars of "Anthem," is a dud because of it.
This is why I say the London script of Chess cheats: the score has to do the work of telling more of the story than it is able to. The script doesn't build the plot and characterization that it needs to. And it doesn't stick the landing. It is a wonderful score, and it is an entertaining musical if you ever get a chance to see it. But it could be great, and it missed that.
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