Park Slope‘s Gallery Players wraps up its 51st season with Chess, a Cold War-era epic centered on (you guessed it) a chess tournament between American and Russian chess masters. Despite the name, chess merely provides the structure for the heartfelt, emotional love story and political commentary that make up the bulk of the musical. Though the premise of the story is compelling, director Mark Harborth and cast ultimately failed to bring life to the story on stage.

Chess focuses on a love triangle formed by Russian chess master Anatoly Sergievsky, American chess master Freddie Trumper, and Freddie’s chess second Florence Vassy. The story, set against the backdrop of the Cold War, also serves as an allegory for the Cold War itself, with both the Americans and Russians employing various underhanded tactics to triumph over the other.

To start the story, Freddie, played by Joey Donnelly, and Florence are on the tail-end of their romance. Florence, played by Carman Napier, grows tired of Freddie’s chess bad boy antics and lack of regard for her wants and needs. As the story progresses, Freddie’s immature stubbornness pushes Florence into the arms of Anatoly, played by Doug Chitel. Florence was exiled from her native Budapest to America at nine years-old, and has been searching for her father (who remained behind) and a true home ever since. Anatoly, Russia’s golden boy chess master also feels out of place in his native Russia, and the two bond quickly over their common feelings of displacement.

On paper it sounds believable enough, and it’s a story we’ve all heard before: Man A doesn’t appreciate Woman, so sensitive and sophisticated Man B swoops in to sweep her off of her feet. Unfortunately, the live action is less believable. From their first fleeting interaction, the audience is expected to believe that Florence and Anatoly recognize kindred spirits in one another, but the spark just isn’t there between Napier and Chitel. As their romance escalates from a few passing words to an unintentional first date to their first kiss, the tension that brings the audience to the edge of their seats just isn’t there. The kiss itself, though intentionally awkward at first — given the dangerous political environment and spaghetti bowl of interpersonal relations between nearly every character, the characters naturally have reservations about their feelings — never becomes the passionate and forceful lip-lock it should.

Napier plays the part of Florence convincingly, nicely balancing fiery passion and confidence with the humor-as-defense-mechanism that so often manifests in abandoned children. She sings and acts with her whole body, moving fluidly and with purpose throughout the performance. As well as she adapted the character, her singing left something to be desired. Her voice is certainly adequate, but it gets a little tight in the upper register and lacks the oomph required to belt notes that truly move the audience.

Chitel plays Anatoly in a similar way. His Anatoly, simultaneously a hopeless romantic and a cold-blooded chess master unaccustomed to the subterfuge of international politics, attempts to navigate his way to victory, love, and personal fulfillment. At different times throughout the show, he is oppressed, depressed, and madly in love. To communicate this to the audience, he effortlessly toggles on and off a twinkle in his eye that would inspire hope on even the darkest of Cold War days. Sadly, Chitel’s voice also can’t quite take a song into the aural stratosphere and really knock the audience’s socks off.

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The third lead, Freddie, doesn’t quite cut the mustard. Donnelly’s puzzling, arhythmic movements and cringeworthy vocal runs leave the audience frustrated as he fails to convince anyone of his chess master badass prowess. Though he manages to work himself up to tears in his dark solo number, “Pity the Boy,” and his unblinking stare to finish the song is unmistakably chilling, the song itself invokes little emotion from the crowd. Furthermore, his singing, dancing, and general vibe during the party tune “One Night In Bangkok” forces the audience to wonder if he’s ever even been to a club.

The other characters and ensemble do a proficient job supporting the leads and even provide comic relief throughout the show. “The Arbiter’s Song,” features Anthony Logan Cole delivering the most forceful performance of the entire show. He digs deep to repeatedly hit powerful notes as his character attempts to exert his influence on the show’s eponymous chess match. The musical is at its best when the entire cast harmonizes together, their voices creating an interesting and rich texture. Ensemble a cappella “Hungarian Folk Song” makes for one of the show’s most moving songs for this exact reason, despite its irrelevance to the story.

Chess is known for its delightfully 80s music, written by Benny Anderson and Bjorn Ulvaeus, eventual member of pop supergroup ABBA. The Gallery Players rendition of the music stripped the 80s kitschiness from the songs, and there’s scarcely a synth to be found throughout the entire show. Although music director Benjamin Jacob only had a keyboard, a guitar, and a drum set to work with, he certainly could have injected a little bit of funk into the show’s score.

The sparse set design, consisting of several triangular pillars on wheels pulling triple duty as stone walls, hotel room closets, and regular walls, forces attention on the characters on stage. While it avoids distracting from the action of the story, it also makes it difficult to distinguish between the different settings: various hotels, restaurants, airports, and chess arenas in Bangkok, Budapest, and New York. Like the set design, the choreography throughout the show is minimal. Based on the stiff and uncoordinated moves the cast displays in “One Night In Bangkok,” that’s for the best.

Overall, the Gallery Players rendition of the quirky Cold War story Chess fails to inspire the audience. Without the show’s 80s funk or a standout performance from any of the cast members Chess is simply a stalemate.