Where the workers have no name

The cast of “Walmartopia,” the satirical musical hit of last year’s Fringe, now in an open run at the Minetta Lane Theater.

By Jennifer O’Reilly

The stage for “Walmartopia” is set with a familiar yellow smiley face looming on the closed curtain — impossibly friendly yet also somewhat ominous. Which is fitting, since the smiley face is the mascot of the nation’s mega discount store, a banana-colored emblem of the supposed joy and happiness Wal-Mart brings to the masses. As the curtain lifts we see Mr. Smiley again, this time superimposed over the actual faces of theoretical Wal-Mart employees, transforming them into smiley-faced zombies with lollipop heads. Suddenly an ordinary man appears on stage and sings briefly about achieving the American dream, opening his own store, having pride in his own business. But quickly the maniacal smileys swoop in and entreat him, “Join us! Join us!” Eventually he succumbs and joins them, donning the blue polyester jacket and replacing his own face with the new and improved smiley version.

This is the story of Wal-Mart, the monolithic retailer that promises its customers low prices while slashing the wages and benefits of its tensely grinning employees. In “Walmartopia,” a musical that premiered at the Fringe last year and just opened at the Minetta Lane Theater, husband and wife team Andrew Rohn (Composer-Lyricist) and Catherine Capallaro (Book) don’t hold back in the skewering of Walmart’s corporate greed.

The main plot of “Walmartopia” centers around Vicki Latrell (Cheryl Freeman) and her daughter Maia (Nikki M. James), both of whom are employed at Wal-Mart. Their wages are so minimal that they can’t afford the down payment on an apartment so they have to live in a motel. Although Maia is angry at the system that has put them in this situation, Vicki holds hope that someday she will be promoted to manager, a position that she has been slaving away for five years to attain. Meanwhile, old white men dressed in matching business suits plot how to raise Wal-Mart’s image in light of a lot of bad press, including a sex discrimination suit that’s rapidly gaining sympathy in the public image. As they sing about Wal-Mart’s many virtues in “March of the Executives,” a screen overhead shows a world map slowly encompassed by yellow smiley faces, symbols of the myriad new Wal-Marts opening all over the globe.

In the second act, the plot takes a bizarre sci-fi turn, shooting Vicki and Maia into a time machine that propels them 30 years into a future where Wal-Mart rules the world and Sam Walton’s floating head constantly hovers, encouraging consumerism and discouraging individualism. In 2037, the world is just one big nation united under Wal-Mart, with the exception of the rogue state of Vermont, which persists in flouting their hippie values and has seceded from the ruling super state.

Though the over-the-top satire of the second act is amusing, the play’s most poignant moments come in the first act, which is rooted in the abysmal reality of a modern day employee’s life at Wal-Mart. Amidst pressure from fellow employees to unionize and the impending promotion of a less experienced male co-worker, Vicki still believes in America. Her optimism in the song “American Dream” is both touching and heartbreaking, especially for an audience that knows what’s coming.

“Walmartopia” is a highly entertaining piece of theater, with catchy, up-beat songs, a funny farcical script, and enough anti-Wal-Mart sentiment to have liberal New Yorkers cheering in the aisles. Its only real flaw is the fact that the writers feel that they have to fast forward in time in order to envision a future where Wal-Mart’s influence can be felt in every corner of the world. We’re already there: There are more than enough real-life Vicki Latrells who can testify to that.