Buzz
The Phantom of the Opera has been captivating audiences at New York City's Majestic Theatre since 1988. Meanwhile, Hamilton launched its Broadway journey at the Richard Rodgers Theatre last August, earning rave reviews from both critics and theatergoers, making tickets incredibly hard to come by. Then there’s Arthur Bicknell’s Moose Murders, a stark contrast to these successes...
Following scathing reviews from critics who seemed to relish tearing it apart, the play premiered at the Eugene O’Neill Theatre on February 22, 1983—and closed that very same night. (For comparison, even Spider-Man: Turn Off the Dark managed a two-year run.) As reported by the BBC, which dedicated a nearly 10-minute radio segment to the play’s notorious failure, Moose Murders is "the benchmark for theatrical disasters." AARP The Magazine even ranked it among the top flops of the 20th century, placing it at number five, just behind New Coke.
“I was once considered a promising young playwright, often compared to Albert Innaurato,” Bicknell shared with Playbill in 2012. He had previously written My Great Dead Sister: World of Domesticity, a “serious light comedy” that garnered praise from critics who later harshly criticized Moose Murders. With Moose Murders, Bicknell aimed to parody theatrical tropes through a comedic murder mystery. The play drew inspiration from the 1906 murder of Grace Brown, who was drowned in the South Bay of Big Moose Lake in New York’s Adirondacks, near Bicknell’s family home. “Everything in that area is named ‘Moose,’ which is where the title came from. I wanted to create a farce, and ‘Moose’ just sounded funny,” the playwright explained.
Here is the official storyline of Moose Murders:
The affluent heirs of Sidney Holloway, a wealthy yet ailing patriarch, acquire the Wild Moose Lodge in the Adirondacks as his final residence. During a seemingly harmless game of "murder" proposed by a family member, the timid Lorraine Holloway is genuinely killed. Who is the culprit? Could it be the mythical "Butcher Moose" rumored to roam the mountains? Or is it one (or more) of the peculiar Holloway family members? Before sunrise, a series of revelations result in multiple deaths among the eccentric cast and uncover the grim truth behind the "Moose" murders.
There’s more to the story. Frank Rich, The New York Times critic known as “the Butcher of Broadway,” described the play's characters as “unappealing clowns” in his scathing review. Rich elaborated on the antics of these clowns:
Hedda Holloway, the wealthy new owner of the lodge, arrives with her husband Sidney, a heavily bandaged quadriplegic confined to a wheelchair, aptly referred to as ''that fetid roll of gauze.'' His caregiver, Nurse Dagmar, dons revealing black satin, speaks in a harsh tone reminiscent of a Nazi, and often leaves her patient out in the rain. The Holloway children include Stinky, a drug-addled hippie with inappropriate desires, and Gay, a young girl in a party dress. When informed that her father will remain ''a vegetable,'' Gay responds, ''Like a lima bean? Gross me out!'' before breaking into a tap dance.
Bicknell has consistently noted in interviews that the play was initially well-received for its humor; it wouldn’t have been produced if everyone had deemed it awful. A wealthy Texas oil tycoon found the script particularly entertaining and decided to fund the production. However, signs of impending disaster soon emerged. The play's director—first-timer John Roach—cast his wife, Lillie Robertson, as Lauraine Holloway Fay, the eldest child of Hedda Holloway. Robertson originated the role, which remains her sole Broadway credit to this day.
Eve Arden, an Oscar-nominated actress for her role as Ida in Mildred Pierce, was set to make her Broadway return after 42 years by playing Hedda. She even left a Santa Barbara production of Barefoot in the Park for this opportunity. However, Arden exited due to “artistic differences” following the first preview. She had requested line changes but was denied, with production staff claiming she couldn’t recall the original script.
Holland Taylor (The Practice, Two and a Half Men) stepped in to replace Arden, briefly boosting morale. However, she too recognized Moose Murders was destined to fail. “I had read the script and found it quite humorous,” Taylor told the BBC. “But it didn’t function well as a play—it was overly campy and exaggerated.” Aware of the controversy surrounding Roach casting his wife, she saw it as a “recipe for disaster” and knew the play “wouldn’t last.” Taylor accepted the role for financial reasons (she was in debt at the time) and secured a clause allowing her to exit with two weeks' notice if better opportunities arose.
Had Taylor known what would unfold during one of the 13 previews, she might have hesitated. The crew’s growing sense of impending disaster was palpable:
One evening, the play was supposed to end with a blackout following my laugh line. I delivered the line, received a tepid response, but the lights stayed on, and the curtain didn’t fall. That was the play’s conclusion. The cast began to scatter like rats abandoning a sinking ship. I shouted, “Come back here!” and made them return. We lined up, held hands, and bowed as I announced, “That is the end of the play.” It was one of the most surreal and humiliating moments of my life—no blackout, no curtain, just a weak laugh and everyone standing there in confusion.
Taylor also recounted the bizarre atmosphere during the single official performance. She sensed the audience’s mix of “glee” and “astonishment”—glee at being able to recount the spectacle later, and astonishment at how dreadful it was. “I could feel the wind from their shaking heads,” she said. “I could sense their disbelief, incredulity, and sheer delight at witnessing such a theatrical disaster.”
Friends of Bicknell, worried about his reaction, attempted to prevent him from reading the scathing reviews. At the after-party, one friend simply described them as “the worst.” Here’s a glimpse of what critics had to say:
“If your name is Arthur Bicknell—or anything close—consider changing it.” —Dennis Cunningham, WCBS-TV “[It] would offend the intelligence of an audience made entirely of amoebas.” —Brendan Gill, The New Yorker “So utterly dreadful that I won’t waste time describing it.” —Clive Barnes, New York Post “I won’t name the cast until their next of kin are informed.” —Jay Sharbutt, Associated Press “Seeing ‘Moose Murders’ will distinguish true Broadway disaster enthusiasts from casual observers for years to come.” —Frank Rich, The New York Times "There are bad plays, terrible plays, and then there’s ‘Moose Murders.’” —Variety “[An] astoundingly idiotic comedy-thriller ... Regular theatergoers can’t fathom the horrors critics endure night after night.” —John Simon, New York Magazine “From now on, theater audiences will be divided into two groups: those who’ve seen ‘Moose Murders’ and those who haven’t ... The 10 actors trapped in this fiasco, few of whom are professionals, won’t be named here. I’m tempted to criticize the writer, director, and producers, but I’m sure the A.S.P.C.A. will handle it soon enough.” —Frank Rich
Bicknell had faced harsh criticism before. After one show, he overheard a woman on the street yell to a police officer, “Officer, arrest that production!”
At the after-party, the mother of one of Bicknell’s friends embraced him and expressed her love, bringing him to tears. Bicknell spent the rest of the night drinking with friends and “discussing life.” The next morning, as he passed the theater, he saw the set being dismantled. The wealthy Texas oil baron producer and his wife had already fled to Paris via Concorde.
According to actress June Gable (who played failed entertainer Snooks Keene in Moose Murders and Estelle on Friends), the days following the opening—and closing—performance were filled with calls to the box office. "After those brutal reviews, the box office was inundated with calls," she said. "They kept informing people the show had closed, and they’d respond, ‘What? We can’t get tickets?’ We could have sold out for a month.”
But Moose Murders was finished.
Bicknell moved forward. He penned another play and even a midnight drag show. Returning to his role as an Air France reservations clerk, he eventually rose to become Merriam-Webster’s chief publicist. At one point, someone proposed staging a musical titled Moose Murders: The Afterbirth, but Bicknell declined. When Playbill interviewed him, he had co-founded the Homecoming Players, a small theater group in Ithaca, New York. In 2013, he released a memoir, Moose Murdered: Or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love My Broadway Bomb, coinciding with a revival production at the Connelly Theater in the East Village. Bicknell revised the script himself, admitting to Playbill that he was “horrified” by the flaws in his original work. Charles Isherwood of The New York Times called the revival “one of the most unbearable nights” he’d ever experienced in theater.
Over the years, community and dinner theaters have staged their own renditions of Moose Murders in places like Queens, Rochester, Montana, Ohio, and Oklahoma. The Rochester production featured an antiques dealer, a culinary student, and a muralist. The play’s infamy continues to draw interest, and Arthur Bicknell appears to have come to terms with its legacy.
"I kept thinking—even the worst plays are eventually forgotten," he remarked. "The line between fame and infamy is razor-thin, and I’m almost proud of my infamy ... so many people know about Moose Murders. I did that. I wrote the worst play ever to hit Broadway. That’s something."
