Redwood. Book by Tina Landau. Music by Kate Diaz. Lyrics by Kate Diaz and Tina Landau. Conceived by Tina Landau and Idina Menzel. Additional contributions by Idina Menzel. Directed by Tina Landau. Scenic design by Jason Ardizzone-West. Video design by Hana S. Kim. Costume design by Toni-Leslie James. Lighting design by Scott Zielinski. Sound design by Jonathan Deans. Wig design by Matthew Armentrout. Associate director Kenneth Ferrone. Dream choreography by Jennifer Weber. Associate music supervisor Haley Bennett. Music coordinator Kristy Norter. Ableton and MainBrain programming by Scott Wasserman. Keyboard programming by Billy Jay Stein and Hiro Iida, Strange Cranium. Dramaturg Ken Cerniglia. Orchestrations and arrangements by Kate Diaz. Music supervisor Tom Kitt. Music director Julie McBride. Vertical movement and vertical choreography by Melecio Estrella, BANDALOOP.
Cast: Idina Menzel, Zachary Noah Piser, De'Adre Aziza, Michael Park, and Khaila Wilcoxon.
Theater: Nederlander Theatre
Tickets: Telecharge.com

Idina Menzel Photo by Matthew Murphy and Evan Zimmerman

Menzel spends much of the show high up in one of these very tall and very wide redwoods that dominates Jason Ardizzone-West's design. There she belts up a storm while maneuvering her body to the vertical choreography by Melecio Estrella, artistic director of the specialized niche company known as BANDALOOP. The result is the most impressive aerial work while singing since Andrea Martin's 2013 Tony-winning turn on a trapeze as Berthe in Pippin.

The overall mise-en-scène is significantly enhanced by Hana S. Kim's assertive video design that soars and swirls around the Cinerama-like set or morphs into a planetarium production, pulling us along with it. Anyone prone to vertigo should consider this a trigger warning.

It's all rather outwardly oriented for a musical that is mostly focused inwardly on the churning feelings of Menzel's character, Jesse. She has fled New York from her home, job, wife Mel (De'Adre Aziza) and, most of all, from her inability to come to grips with the death of her son Spencer (Zachary Noah Piser) from a drug overdose. In a near-blind panic, she heads her car ever westward until eventually she winds up among the ancient trees where she arrives after the show's long, exposition-rich opening number, "Drive." (Sample lyrics: "These memories / They flash in my mind / Gotta leave them behind / But they find me / These shards of my life / Of my son. Of my wife / I have to find somewhere else to be / Where I'm no longer me.")

Khaila Wilcoxon, Michael Park, Idina Menzel, Zachary Noah Piser, and De'Adre Aziza Photo by Matthew Murphy and Evan Zimmerman

Redwood, which was inspired by the true story of environmental activist Julia Butterfly Hill who actually lived in a tent near the top of a redwood tree for 738 days in the late 1990s, is clearly the result of a deep commitment to the material by its triad of creators, focused as they are on capturing through imagery and song the inner turmoil of its central character. The bookwriter and co-lyricist is Tina Landau, who also directs. The ballady pop score is by Kate Diaz, who is co-lyricist and who also did the arrangements and orchestrations. The entire project was conceived by Landau and Menzel, who is also credited with providing "additional materials." It also seems there has been a great effort to keep this from coming off as a vanity project for its team, who want us to focus almost exclusively on the grandeur of the setting and on Jesse's struggles; so much so that the two best numbers are given to Becca and Spencer instead of the star.

Taken in terms of such an intent, Redwood succeeds. However, for those of us who are coming in cold to this story, the problem is the lack of context, with too much "tell" and not enough "show." Despite any sympathy we might have for Jesse, she is not all that interesting a character. That's because we only see a tiny slice of her story. We are told about her relationship with her wife Mel, but do not see much of it beyond some phone messages. We learn something about Spencer (and meet him as a memory), but his backstory is only related to us, a litany of facts. For a show like this to fully succeed, we in the audience need to be immersed less in the design and more in the characters as people we care about (Next to Normal comes to mind as a more rewarding example).

Much is made in Redwood of the nature of a tree's "heart," its "strongest part" we are told. If only we knew more about Jesse's heart, then perhaps our own hearts might be more fully engaged with her plight and with her high-in-the-air healing process.