The Musical is set within the world of middle-school education, which isn’t unprecedented territory for a comedy. Jokes about the oversensitivity of today’s youth, matched with their cell phone-obsession, are played out, and there’s rarely a positive portrayal of what school politics look like. The Musical will likely turn some off because of the suggestion that it’s “offensive” or “anti-PC,” but these are the mechanisms of the film’s humor. The Musical is a nasty, scathing portrayal of an anti-hero, the likes of which have been the lead of Hollywood comedies since Arsenic and Old Lace and Sullivan’s Travels. That it’s also an indictment of how out-of-touch educators have become with the students they’re intended to understand is secondary, but not unwelcome.
Given that director Giselle Bonilla was previously an actress, it’s unsurprising that her debut feature functions as a star vehicle. Will Brill, a prominent off-Broadway actor who’s had occasional television guest roles, is cast as the self-loathing middle school theater teacher Doug Leibowitz. A less generous assessment of Brill’s talents would describe him as a less likable Tim Robinson, or a poor man’s Nathan Fielder. The difference is that Brill doesn’t have autonomy over the project, and has given a performance in The Musical that’s called upon him to be as exaggerated as possible. There’s nothing about Doug that’s supposed to be likable, but The Musical’s case is that his narcissism is more obvious when compared to the other members of the middle school facility.
The cliche that “those who don’t, teach” is the case with Doug, who had the chance to develop his own musical before a skeezy investor backed out at the last minute. Although Doug has used this failing to justify why he’s now stuck teaching West Side Story to seventh-graders, there’s no implication that he’s a secret genius. Doug doesn’t compromise, which is why his girlfriend Abigail (Gillian Jacobs), a fellow teacher, has called it quits. The indignity of sharing a workplace with his ex would be embarrassing enough, but to make matters worse, Abigail has begun dating the school’s Principal Brady (Rob Lowe).
Doug’s characterized as caustic to a point that’s absurd; his unwillingness to cooperate with his co-workers and inability to recognize boundaries make it hard to imagine him ever being able to convince a cast and crew to rally around his work. However, the plight that Doug’s faced with is recognizable for anyone that’s ever worked in a creative or hierarchical field. Should Doug succeed in directing a school play that gains acclaim, the praise will be heaped upon Brady, who’s vied for the prestigious Blue Ribbon of Academic Excellence. Doug can’t make something “good” without boosting Brady’s cache with Abigail, but does have the potential to make something “memorable.” His plan is to sabotage Brady’s reputation and his future as a teacher by directing an original middle school musical where the kids sing about a multitude of inappropriate topics, chief among them the 9/11 attacks.
It's a juvenile plan, and that’s the point Bonilla’s is making. Turning a national tragedy into a farce is the type of “edgy” humor that has lost value within the internet era, especially for a generation born after 2001; there are a multitude of recent incidents that Doug could’ve used. Doug isn’t joking about a controversial topic because he’s a hateful person, nor does he seem interested in offending anyone. His desire is solely to demonstrate Brady’s inability to monitor a school function that he had no hand in.
Doug’s plan to stage the musical prank inspired his most significant work ethic since his initial show was cancelled. It’s briefly mentioned that some of Doug’s early writing was dismissed as being “impersonal,” but his garish 9/11 show is impassioned. Doug has finally found the perfect collaborators in children, because they don’t question his absurd statements or philosophical tirades about how “the system” is “rigged against them.” It's in his elaborate revenge plot that Doug’s revealed as a pretty decent teacher.
Doug’s vengeance is easy to engage with because of how finely-crafted a villain Brady is. The casting of Lowe was smart; the former “Brat Pack” member was one of the coolest stars of the 1980s, which has made him the perfect choice to play an out-of-touch, insincere principal. Like Doug, Brady doesn’t care about political correctness, but he’s become an expert in creating safe spaces and promoting diversity because it pleases the school board. Brady’s condescending and judgmental towards Doug, which at first isn’t surprising because of the latter’s rude behavior during faculty meanings; it’s only after Brady’s similar treatment of the students is revealed that Doug’s plight is made more sympathetic. It’s through the acknowledgment of the kids’ identity (including race, gender, and culture) that Brady has avoided treating them as individuals; Doug’s encouraged his students not to follow the same depressing path that he did.
The issue with The Musical is that the build-up to the main joke is where the tension is built, and there’s nowhere to go once Doug’s plan is put into place. Although a slightly more cynical read of Doug’s cyclical path towards dissatisfaction is hinted at, The Musical doesn’t commit to anything substantial after taking a victory lap. Should the film manage to find an audience outside of the festival circuit, it’s possible that it’ll be claimed by the type of petty “anti-woke” crusaders. The Musical may end up attracting the wrong crowd, but it doesn’t change that the film’s damn funny.