The evening has a little bit of everything, including break-dancing, a
love story, gymnastics, laser-light displays, a tap routine and for a socko finish, a suicide. The spare black set is dominated by a large
post-Constructivist staircase that rotates on a turntable and by subway signs that spell out the alluring word Exit in a wide variety of languages. Periodically the cast pushes forward en masse and at the edge of the stage vehemently delivers a song that is the "Metro" answer to "Let the Sun Shine In." Though lyrics like "We are the children!" and "We are the people!" are repeatedly punctuated by loud cries of "Freedom!" the number does not significantly alter the audience's impression that it has landed in jail.
As Janis Joplin once sang, freedom's just another word for nothing
left to lose. You have to feel sorry for the kids in "Metro," who work extremely hard, singing and dancing with unflagging energy in pursuit of starry-eyed dreams. If only New York City had a heart, someone might treat them to a steak dinner and maybe even tickets to a Broadway show.
The Butcher could be very nasty. (But I love the "alluring" exit signs.)