Review

Death Becomes Her is a spectacular piece of Broadway theater—lavish, fearless, and executed with remarkable precision. It remains one of the most technically confident productions of the season, and its loss in the Tony Award race for Best Musical still feels undeserved. The show embraces excess unapologetically, using spectacle not as distraction but as storytelling language.

The stage adaptation remains faithful to the tone and structure of the original film while confidently asserting its own theatrical identity. The script preserves the sharp satire and dark humor audiences expect, while expanding moments for musicality, physical comedy, and visual surprise. It understands when to lean into camp and when to allow character and pacing to lead, resulting in a production that feels both reverent and freshly alive.

I saw the production twice, once in May 2025 and again in August 2025, specifically hoping to see Megan Hilty as Madeline Ashton, Jennifer Simard as Helen Sharp, and Michelle Williams as Viola Van Horn. During my first viewing, all three female leads were out, and during my second viewing, Michelle Williams remained out. Rather than weakening the experience, this ultimately underscored the extraordinary depth of the cast.

Ximone Rose, understudying the role of Viola Van Horn, delivered a standout performance that anchored the production with authority and ease. Her vocals were full-bodied, smooth, and powerful, and she commanded the stage with confidence and polish. This performance exemplified the strength of a thoughtfully built ensemble and reinforced how stacked talent—even within understudy roles—adds credibility, longevity, and artistic depth to a musical. It is easy to imagine her stepping into future leading roles.

The design elements of Death Becomes Her are among its greatest triumphs. Costuming is exquisite, unapologetically theatrical, and deeply character-driven, adding allure, mystery, and power—particularly to Viola Van Horn. Choreography is sharp and intentional, supporting both comedy and narrative without overwhelming the performers. The stage settings are imaginative and immersive, while the gymnastic and illusion-based special effects are executed with impressive precision. These moments feel earned rather than gimmicky, reinforcing the show’s themes of vanity, immortality, and control.

Musically, the score offers several numbers that linger long after the curtain call. “Siempre Viva” and “If You Want Perfection” resonate with both humor and bite, while “For the Gaze” serves as a hilarious and self-aware love letter to theater itself. Ernest’s “The Plan” is riotously funny, leaving cheeks sore from laughter and standing out as one of the evening’s most memorable comedic moments.

Beneath the glamour and spectacle, Death Becomes Her reveals itself as a glorious cautionary tale, asking whether immortality on earth is a gift at all. Wrapped in wit and theatrical excess, the musical explores the seduction of eternal youth and flawlessness, reminding us that if you want perfection, the cost may be far greater than imagined. What begins as fantasy ultimately exposes the emptiness of vanity unchecked, using humor, camp, and spectacle to underscore a surprisingly resonant truth.

From a family-friendly perspective, the production contains frequent strong language and mature subject matter that may be inappropriate for young children. Teens and adult audiences, however, will likely appreciate the satire, theatrical bravado, and visual spectacle that define the show.

Ultimately, Death Becomes Her succeeds on every major theatrical level—performance, design, choreography, and technical execution. Even in the absence of principal leads, the production soared, speaking volumes about its casting depth and creative confidence. It is dazzling, deliciously excessive, and deeply entertaining… don’t say I didn’t warn you.