Michael John LaChiusa and George C. Wolfe represent the most terribly honest of the daring new generation of Americans forging the postmodern Broadway musical. While fewer than a half-dozen works in the past twenty years have risen to the benchmark Stephen Sondheim and Hal Prince established in the 1970s, Wolfe’s Bring In ‘Da Noise, Bring In ‘Da Funk (1996) and LaChiusa’s Marie Christine (1999) should be included among them. No musicals have been more terribly honest about our mongrel American heritage than these. The Wild Party takes its inspiration and its lineage from Prince & Sondheim,  but  also  from  Brecht & Weill  and  such  American popular  revue  entertainment’s  (of which Wolfe is a master) as vaudeville and the blackface minstrel show. For once, we have a musical on Broadway which expresses the urban, contemporary human condition. The alienation, ambivalence and disorientation of this party form the mask of the fractured, American, postmodern identity. The Wild Party is equal parts Threepenny Opera, Gypsy, and Who’s Afraid of Virginia Wolf?. LaChiusas score is the finest of his young career and one of the finest in years, paying homage to Gershwin and Cole Porter while drawing its fire from Duke Ellington. But like all original voices, LaChiusas essence is his alone (beautifully orchestrated by Bruce Coughlin). As one would expect, the script and production are emblazoned with Wolfe’s trademarks: stylish, intelligent, slashing humor; dazzling theatrical showmanship; and the relentless, assault ye, invigorating energy of New York City’s streets. These important artists have re-imagined March’s poem with a courageous, sometimes-brutal, always-clarifying honesty. Despite its 1920s setting, The Wild Party is no light-hearted, nostalgic romp. It is an entertaining, powerful, disturbing and wild theatrical ride for this new century.