Oh. My. God. Where to start?
With the book scenes, which for some reason drift in and out of rhymed couplets?
With the concept, which imagines that you can somehow rework The Red Shoes in a way that's simultaneously hip, sentimental, and po-mo ironic?
With the dancing? Perhaps with the dancing: It's a show about a dancer who's driven to be the best, right? The deal here is that the devil's gonna help her be the best, right? She puts on the ruby slippers and dances everybody off the stage, right?
Except that most of the chorus can dance her off the stage.
Seriously, they're the only redeeming thing about this horrendous mess. They're pretty amazing, and the more unhinged hiphop-inspired numbers really do pop. But then they bring on homegirl, and she waves her arms around a bit and shows off her extension, and in no way does she resemble Cassie.
This thing's set to open on Broadway? Really?
(UPDATE, April 7: The official word, courtesy of Mondello, is here.)