The TikTok ‘Came to Be musical

André De Shields, working on Rataouille: The TikTok Musical.
Photo: Emily Marshall

On Friday, the impossible happens. On the first day of 2021, we will all finally see a new (more or less) Broadway show (certainly not)! Shutdown is keeping the stages dark, but the computer screen can still glow like a lit marquee. After a dizzying creative process, the confusion of an hour Ratatouille: the musical TikTok will debut on the internet, for the benefit of the Actors Fund.

Never before has a musical been shaped by so many hands that did not originally sign a contract. In recent months, a musicalization of Pixar’s 2007 film bubbled up from the TikTok miasma without any input – or permission – from the studio. First, Emily Jacobsen, inspired by the announcement of a Ratatouille-themed tour at Walt Disney World Resort, sang the most addictive chorus on TikTok: “Remy, the Ratatouille, rat of all my dreams!” Her post went viral. Then, composer / arranger Daniel Mertzlufft marked his micro-song with a virtual orchestra, transforming Jacobsen’s little verse into an exciting “act two finale” for a show that didn’t exist. The internet took notice, dozens of creators contributed performances, songs and choreographies, a Playbill design and a miniature set, and the hashtag #RatatouilleMusical exploded to 200 million clicks. (Click here to read Vulture’s full TikTok ticking.)

The motto of Ratatouille is “Anyone can cook”. In Pixar’s animated fantasy, a mouse can be a world-class chef, as long as it receives an incentive from a much larger human helper. When the musical appeared – a David created by the public cut by a thousand chisels –Ratatouille it also became an allegory organized by the way the creators of TikTok managed to dodge conventional gatekeepers and ride on the back of a giant like Disney. Casa do Rato, which is hardly known for the liberal handling of its intellectual property, agreed to open its paw for just one night. The official line is: “Although we have no development plans for the title, we love it when our fans get involved with Disney stories. We applaud and thank all online theater manufacturers for helping to benefit The Actors Fund in this time of unprecedented need. “

According to Joe Benincasa of the Actors Fund, it was a matter of phone calls. The spark was first hit by producers Jeremy O. Harris, the extremely online writer and producer, and Greg Nobile, from theater producer Seaview. According to Benincasa, Nobile called Tom Schumacher, the president of Disney Theatricals, on Thanksgiving Day. “Tom said, ‘This is a good idea. I think Disney can release the rights … let’s try to do that. I will clear the way ‘”. The key seems to have been his brief involvement (he will be online only for 72 hours after his debut) and his focus on the Fund. It is difficult to overstate the community’s love for the Actors Fund, which has already distributed more than $ 18 million to needy arts workers. Last year, they reached an average of 10,000 donors. This year, they are eliminating 60,000.

The following Monday, the Disney representative on the Actors Fund board called Benincasa – the turnaround was swift. “The marriage was made between Disney and Seaview productions,” says Benincasa, “and as TikTok became a huge supporter of the Actors Fund, we introduced TikTok to both parties.” The Fund also helped recruit talent, and the cast is a gallery of cheaters: Tituss Burgess plays gastronomic rodent Remy; TikTok collaborator and Broadway presence Kevin Chamberlin is the ghost mentor Gusteau; André de Shields plays the tough restaurant critic Anton Ego; Ashley Park sharpens her knives like chef Colette in a sour voice; and Andrew Barth Feldman – loved Dear Evan Hansen star and choice of the hashtagosphere – appears as Remy’s unfortunate kitchen puppet, Linguini.

Nobile and Harris also produced the online program Circle Jerk, so they hired co-writers Patrick Foley and Michael Breslin to bring their transgressive and nano-referential wit to the book. (Both are also listed as producers.) Nobile texted them the night before Thanksgiving, Breslin said. “I drank some champagne, of course. And the text topic is literally just me sending [Greg] a lot of mouse emojis and saying, ‘amazing!’, like ‘mouse, mouse, mouse.’ ” One begins to see where Disney would not … necessarily have used the same methods. The pair had a week to write the treatment, then another to write the libretto.

The extreme compression of the process meant that they made a very classic adaptation of the film, shaping the book around songs by thirteen TikTok creators. Still, however close they are to the circumstances of the film and the fandom’s unremarkable love for it, there is still a scathing sensitivity that was born online throughout the project. Director Lucy Moss, whose show Six was about to debut before Broadway closed, joked with the writing team that they were not always looking for the most famous actor for each role, but the figure that was more – let’s the language of the internet –iconic. “Tituss was the dream,” says Foley. “And we found out about it, I suppose, quickly in the process. And then it was just a conversation about: How ironic can we be? How many Heritage jokes can there be? It turns out – none. But it was a delicate balance to try to embrace this form of internet and also do the material justice. “

Ratatouille’s choreographer Ellenore Scott was already in love with TikTok, so she came to the film through the algorithm. Most of the dances she created will be performed by the ensemble, saturated in her favorite aspects of TikTok choreography: accessibility (“dances you could teach your grandmother”), virtuosity (“you also want to be impressed”) and the specifics of the app filters, which create effects similar to Busby Berkeley – the cloning tool in particular. She was impressed with how the creators of TikTok were included in the process, so that each person who contributed, say, a 59-second sequence was consulted as the work was transformed into larger numbers. Through a representative, Nobile says that all creators are being compensated and “is on the Off Broadway track”. So “I feel very well looked after on all fronts,” says Scott.

Could this new musical form, which started as a placeholder, become a placetaker? “When I think of the times I was in the room when a musical was being developed,” says Scott, “it is years and years, meetings after meetings. You rethink your idea 400 times before you actually enter the room. Whereas it felt like we did it in the amount of time you would do a TikTok, which is – you know, you snap a finger. ”And, of course, there’s the fact that it’s work, work at last. A platform where artists would lament a silent industry became first an escape, then a place to perform and be creative. It is now the first major theatrical event of the next decade. “Forgive my French,” says Scott, “but this is the cherry on top of a pile of shit that was in 2020. Like, I’m glad it’s ending with something sweet. Do you know what I mean? “

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