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She longs for what they were, but we have no idea of what that entailed besides cuddling. The verses where she calls their first meeting and the life they built together are rewritten to be vague. I know it’s trying to be closer to the Swedish version with the seasonal imagery, but it’s entirely passive here. “And it was spring and we were young…And then the summer slipped away for good.”

This Florence has even less setup than her original London counterpart, which is very unfortunate since the entire finale still hinges on her. 

I heard that in the previews there was an explanation, which was later cut, that Florence stopped competing professionally because she would lose her temper with Soviet players. 

It’s weird because, originally, Florence never really had beef with Anatoly or Viigand. She more reserved her ire for Molokov and the Soviet government. Even then, I’d say she was pretty professional, all things considered. She’s the one who calls Freddie out in “The American and Florence.”

It’s even weirder in this book, where the Soviets kills their players for losing. Why would Florence direct her anger at them?

It makes sense that it was cut. Unfortunately, it seems like they didn’t really replace it with anything.

In 1988 Broadway, she has an entire song, “How Many Women,” that provides an explanation and establishes her dynamic with Freddie. Maybe Strong could’ve borrowed that or at least realized that “Someone Else’s Story” makes no sense for Florence if it isn’t somewhere in Act 1. (Why would you try to turn it into an 11:00 number? Florence does not need yet another song about her love life in late Act 2!)

I don’t think Strong has seen or read the original 1986 West End show either because he makes some other weird choices. 

For example, he gives Freddie’s 2008 verse (“How straightforward the game…”) to Walter instead of just using Walter’s verse from the original show. Also, just like the 2008 concert, KenCen and the revival use the much weaker 1988 Broadway lyrics for “You and I (Reprise).”

Although I think opening with “Diplomats” is interesting and effective, it embodies everything wrong with Strong’s approach to CHESS.

He wants it to be a political drama first and foremost when CHESS has always been about the characters. It’s why 1990 Sydney and the Swedish production could get away with toning down the political elements.

As much as I may grumble, there isn’t really a wrong way to write Anatoly, Florence, Freddie, and the rest. Musical performances will always vary, CHESS especially, with its ever-changing story. The problem I have with Strong’s writing is that the characters he presents are less compelling to me at best and outright conflict with the songs at worst. 

For example, in his various books, the Soviets threaten Svetlana’s life. As a result, “I Know Him So Well” makes very little sense. Why on earth would she ever accept that Anatoly “needs fantasy and freedom”? Who cares about him! Her life and the wellbeing of their children are at stake!

In the original West End production, “Anthem” had no setup. Here, it somehow has even less than that. The Soviets are all cartoon villains. Anatoly doesn’t really care about his family. 

To be fair, Strong does strengthen Anatoly’s character by shifting up “Where I Want to Be” and having Freddie forfeit. It’s easier for the audience to understand his stubbornness in Act 2 if he never actually earned his title. 

However, he then undoes all his good work by tying Anatoly vs. Viigand to the Able Archer exercises. In order for this version of “Endgame” to work, everyone has to turn their brains off, including the audience.

The generals are convinced that NATO is actually launching an attack, but somehow Anatoly losing will put them at ease. Anatoly dismisses Svetlana’s warnings as lies even though the government took him from his family to mold him into the perfect chess player and he should be well-aware of what they’re capable of. Walter and Molokov send in Svetlana and Freddie and offer Gregor Vassy but don’t even consider telling Anatoly that the world is at stake. 

It feels like Danny Strong watched the 2008 Chess in Concert and the only issue he could find (aside from Act 1’s poor pacing) is that the stakes weren’t high enough. 

Now the Soviets kill their players for losing, now Florence will be deported if Freddie doesn’t behave, now Svetlana will be killed if she can’t convince Anatoly to lose and come home, now the world will end if Anatoly doesn’t throw the match.

High stakes! High stakes! High stakes!

Just because you can, doesn’t mean you should. The first act is mostly solid, but the political subplot completely derails the second. 

If we needed to add more tension, I don’t think Tim Rice’s book needed a complete overhaul. The second act probably just needed better timed exposition. Originally, we only learn about Anatoly’s loss of form, Viigand’s winning streak, the series of draws, and the limit of six more games the Arbiter imposes until it’s too late to build any tension. 

Like 1988 Broadway, this new book doesn’t really fix Tim Rice’s. Instead, it presents a new story with its own strengths and weaknesses. 

I’d be fine with turning Anatoly vs. Viigand into the Cuban Missile Crisis if Walter and Molokov were our protagonists, but they’re not. As is, any benefits of expanding the political subplot are far outweighed by the harm it does to the story.

Of course, Strong doesn’t have the guts to press the nuclear button. Raising the stakes to world-ending heights just makes it even more unsatisfying when Anatoly wins and everyone gets what they want anyway.

The father-daughter reunion simply doesn’t work here. One, Florence is underdeveloped and her bond with her father is not properly setup. In fact, in the previews, it’s explained that Florence learned chess from her mother because of her father’s misogyny. 

Two, it’s not a real sacrifice. Anatoly still wins the match. Sure, he loses Florence, but his story doesn’t center on her. It centers on his freedom. He obsesses over winning against Viigand to affirm his own agency in the face of Molokov’s blackmail and his new tragic child-chess-factory upbringing.

Anatoly wins the match, proving himself to be a real champion and asserting his agency. He returns home a hero, the prodigal son. Svetlana and his children are saved. 

Three, Anatoly facilitates the prisoner exchange through Molokov and Walter, completely undermining the point of their characters and the entire story. Florence’s happy ending is now tied to the KGB and the CIA keeping their word.

I’m trying not to be too harsh and meet the revival where it’s at, but it’s hard to understand what it’s even going for. 

It can’t serve as any real critique of the Soviet Union because Strong makes the Soviets cartoonishly evil mustache-twirlers who are obsessed with chess above everything and kill their players just for losing. 

With all the modern political jokes, the threat of Florence’s deportation, and the increased focus on Walter, you could argue that it’s more a critique of the American government. If that’s the case, it completely fails in the second act.

Now that the stakes of the chess match are life or death, Walter becomes the most reasonable person in the room. At the end, he reunites Florence with her father and gives them visas, redeeming himself and, by extension, the CIA.

1990 Long Beach, another production where Florence reunites with her father, sidesteps this problem by having Anatoly go behind Walter and Molokov’s backs and make his own deal. Walter and Molokov had no hand in recovering Gregor Vassy, so they (and their respective governments) weren’t let off the hook for their compassionless wheeler-dealing. 

Honestly, it probably would’ve been better to do something like the 1992 Off-Broadway show. It’s one match—Freddie loses or forfeits in Merano and then there’s a rematch in Bangkok. 

Freddie’s mental health issues could’ve been more fleshed out, and the focus could remain on SALT II instead of trying to shoehorn in the Able Archer exercises.