Displaying items by tag: Travis Cloer

Depending on the source, Bat Out of Hell ranks among the top‑selling albums of all time, so its eventual leap to the stage in 2017 felt almost inevitable. Written by Jim Steinman and performed by Meat Loaf, the album’s grandiose ‘70s sound hardly suggests a post‑apocalyptic narrative, yet that’s the unexpected framing audiences encounter here. Meat Loaf’s music has always thrived on high‑energy rock‑opera theatrics  - a powerhouse voice wrapped in oversized emotion and unapologetic melodrama -  so while this storyline wouldn’t have been my first guess for a theatrical adaptation, it surprisingly fits. What works especially well is the way the show taps into the romantic rebellion that defined his performances, echoing the presence of an artist who approached each number as a miniature piece of theatre.

For its one‑night‑only performance at the Auditorium Theatre, Bat Out of Hell - The Musical opens with a confident burst of energy, pairing Steinman’s masterful songbook with a theatrical approach that’s more measured than its reputation suggests. Rather than presenting Meat Loaf’s iconic album as a straightforward rock spectacle, the creative team leans into the material’s operatic sweep and dystopian romance, shaping it into a visually engaging and musically cohesive piece of rock theatre. In the Auditorium’s spacious setting, the cinematic staging and amplified aesthetic settle in comfortably, allowing the show’s size to register without overwhelming the story at its center.

Set in the neon‑lit sprawl of post-doomsday Obsidian, Bat Out of Hell - The Musical centers on the charged relationship between Strat (Conor Crowley) - the eternally young leader of a band of renegade teens known as The Lost - and Raven (Carly Burns), the sheltered daughter of the city’s iron‑fisted ruler, Falco (Travis Cloer). Strat moves through a world shaped by rebellion and restless freedom, while Raven has grown up behind barricades built as much from fear as from concrete. Caught between them is Sloane (Tori Kocher), Falco’s long‑suffering wife, whose presence adds a more human counterpoint to the household’s rigid control. Their intersecting tensions spark a collision between desire and authority, youth and power, with Steinman’s sweeping rock anthems amplifying every emotional turn.

As Strat and Raven navigate the risks of their forbidden bond, the story widens to reveal the fractures within Falco and Sloane’s marriage - a counterpoint that exposes the weight of time, compromise, and regret. Meanwhile, The Lost struggle to hold onto their identity in a city determined to contain them. The narrative unfolds less as a traditional plot than as an atmospheric journey, laced with youthful rebellion and driven by Steinman’s music, which propels the characters through a world where love becomes both an act of defiance and a means of survival.

The show’s design builds around Steinman’s biggest showstoppers, threading them through the narrative with the kind of theatrical sweep that has long defined his work. Signature numbers such as “Bat Out of Hell,” “I’d Do Anything for Love (But I Won’t Do That),” “Two Out of Three Ain’t Bad,” and “Paradise by the Dashboard Light,” delivered with standout vocals and sizzle from Travis Cloer and Tori Kocher, form the musical backbone of the evening, each landing with the scale and intensity fans expect. Rather than serving as simple nostalgia cues, these songs shape the emotional architecture of the production, driving its crescendos and giving the story much of its momentum. Their presence underscores just how enduring - and theatrically adaptable - Steinman’s catalog remains.

As the production’s central pair, Conor Crowley and Carly Burns offer grounded, complementary performances as Strat and Raven. Crowley brings a clear vocal presence and an easy confidence to the role, while Burns provides a calm, steady counterpoint that helps shape the emotional arc of their scenes together. Their dynamic feels natural and unforced, giving the story a solid center without overpowering the production’s broader stylistic choices.

Production phot of Bat Out of Hell - The Musical by Chris Davis Studio 2

The ensemble moves with an easy rhythmic cohesion, offering strong vocal moments that add texture and dimension to Jay Scheib’s vision. Their presence helps fill out the world of Obsidian, giving the production momentum even when the staging remains intentionally spare. Scheib’s use of a live onstage cameraman adds another layer, capturing close‑up details that are projected onto two large overhead screens and lending the performance a subtle filmic quality. The choice works on both a practical and stylistic level, allowing the show to shift between the intimacy of the camera lens and the broader sweep of the stage. What initially feels like a distraction quickly becomes part of the visual language of the production, blending in so seamlessly that the cameraman all but disappears from notice.

The physical world of Bat Out of Hell - The Musical unfolds across a vast industrial landscape that captures the fractured, glow‑soaked atmosphere of Obsidian. The set itself is relatively simple, but the production makes sharp use of dynamic lighting to build atmosphere, scale, and momentum. A towering network of platforms, staircases, and metal scaffolding creates a vertical playground where the cast can vault between levels and stage the show’s most high‑energy moments. One of these platforms houses the live band, led by Greg Paladino, whose presence adds both immediacy and a welcome sense of rock‑concert authenticity.

Bat Out of Hell threads its spectacle with clear symbolic beats: The Lost, frozen in age, embody youth suspended between rebellion and stagnation, while Obsidian’s crumbling, fluorescent‑hazed skyline reflects a society shaped by fear and control. Strat and Raven’s romance becomes a tug‑of‑war between liberation and confinement, and Falco’s fortress stands in for every system determined to hold change at bay. Even the production’s constant motion suggests a world enthralled by spectacle yet uneasy with evolution.

It’s gratifying to see that the legacy of Jim Steinman and Meat Loaf continues to reach new audiences, while also resonating with longtime fans - some of whom sing along to every word of certain songs throughout the performance. The material’s larger‑than‑life sound remains a recognizable cultural marker, and this musical now holds a distinct place for many who appreciate the intersection of rock and musical theatre.

In the end, Bat Out of Hell - The Musical isn’t aiming for subtlety, but that’s part of its charm. It delivers an energetic surge powered by Steinman and Meat Loaf’s expansive songbook and a cast that commits fully to every moment. The storyline undoubtedly edges into corniness here and there, yet it matters little when the production is this unabashedly fun - and the sheer force of the music makes the ride worthwhile on its own.

The bat may well fly back again someday, but for now, Bat Out of Hell - The Musical arrived as a one‑night‑only event. For more information, visit https://batoutofhellmusical.com/.

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