A Dad’s Review of “Annie” at the Kings Theatre in Flatbush

One of the theoretical joys of raising kids in New York City is the access to well, the brightest footlights of New York City. I grew up far from Gotham, so the idea of going to see a show on Broadway, the Broadway, was inconceivable, an abstraction at best. And there it is, the Great White Way, a simple Q-train ride away…

My daughter has never seen a Broadway show. Sure, she’s only five and we’ll get there someday, but what with the tourists, the ticket prices, the touchy-too-muchy Toy Story characters, and the whole dystopian Times Squares-ian awfulness, it’s hard to rally the fam for a night of musical theater. Well, deck the halls with boughs of Annie, a full Broadway caliber production arrived last night at the glorious Kings Theater.

If you act fast—real fast, as it only runs through Sunday—you can take in a staple of Americana without venturing outside the home borough. Tickets run from $35-95 depending on the date and time, which is a hell of a deal compared to Broadway, and a solid holiday outing to boot. If you’ve forgotten the plot, or if like me, you basically know “Hard Knock Life” from Bed-Stuy  crackhouses and not Depression-era “Hoovervilles,” Annie wraps up in Christmas splendor. It’s both reasonable and seasonable!

The star of the show—outside of Lynn Andrews as Miss Hannigan who is bawdy, hilarious, and way more fun than those raggedy little girls—is Kings Theater itself. It’s amazing, a $94-million restoration that’s brought a crown jewel to Flatbush Ave. Originally opened in 1929, the theater went from a palace to a grindhouse to, in 1977, a shuttered storefront. Kings Theater was left to rot for nearly four decades, but it only took four years to return it to its former glory. Inspired by the French Renaissance Revival style of the Palace of Versailles and the Paris Opera House, the concert hall is a wonder to behold, a glorious tapestry of walnut, marble, one-ton chandeliers, and bars that (only) ding a guy $10 for top-shelf bourbon. Staring at the ceiling, which I swear is higher than the Metropolitan Opera House, is an event in and of itself.

Getting into Kings Theater isn’t wrinkle-free. While passing through the ubiquitous metal detectors, security wouldn’t let us bring in outside wrapped treats. (Although they don’t do pat-downs, do with that what you will.) The lines are slow-moving, so Annie was well underway before everyone found their seats. Big deal. This isn’t the Met, it’s a professional production in a local community. Annie featured, without a doubt, the most diverse audience I’ve ever seen at a play of any kind. And unlike the Times Square fanny packs-and-going-out-sweatpants brigade, most Kings Theatergoers were dressed for the occasion.

As for the show itself: If you like Annie, odds are, you’ll love Annie. The lead redhead played by Issie Swickle holds the stage, the sets—including an evocative Brooklyn Bridge silhouette—are cool, the songs boisterous, the kids cute, and the FDR-is-a-feckless-President jokes enjoyable anachronistic. (Fun fact: Harold Gray, Annie’s original creator, was vehemently opposed to the New Deal, and the largess of Republican billionaire Daddy Warbucks serves as surrogate for his views of government assistance. Expect to hear Donald Trump sing “Easy Street” at the next GOP debate.)

Annie hits all the right notes that a beloved slice of American cornpone should, and in trying times, it’s nice to be reminded that the sun will indeed come out, tomorrow. But you don’t want to hear from me, you want the insights of a now-professional theater critic.

“My favorite part was when the little girls were singing that they didn’t have to clean anymore,” says Molly Sauer, 5. “I also really liked when Sandy came out of the Christmas present. I liked the whole thing. Annie was great.”

It was. And I’ll remember Annie for the occasion, as much as the orphans. You only get to take your kids to their first Broadway show once. I’m glad ours was in Brooklyn. Happy holidays.