A Little More Alive, at KC Rep, is pretty much DOA

Mom is dead. The house is filled with acquaintances. So you head to the basement rec room and get high. Seems reasonable. But singing an upbeat pop song about smoking “Pot at a Funeral” — sample lyric: Pot at a funeral might seem unusual but so is today — while playing with an oversized childhood teddy bear and bouncing around on the furniture seems like maybe gilding the lily a bit.

This is our introduction to at least one millennial’s state of mind in A Little More Alive, onstage at the Kansas City Repertory Theatre’s Copaken Stage. Nate (Van Hughes), a 28-year-old going on 15, lives at home with his dad, Gene (Daniel Jenkins), and was witness to his mother’s final illness. Maybe he’s letting off steam or indulging in denial, but the mood of this opening number doesn’t convince.

“Pot at a Funeral” is just the first piece of the puzzle that is this “world premiere new musical” (directed by Sheryl Kaller and written by Nick Blaemire, who composed the book, music and lyrics). “Stay 24 more hours,” Nate pleads with Jeremy (Michael Tacconi), his younger and more successful brother, who wants to bolt home to another city. Jeremy has the right idea. The two-hour running time of this play already feels like plenty.

Home movies play at the back of the stage (video creation and projection design by Josh Lehrer), and we see the mother there. Gene, always behind the camera out of frame, documented the big events and minutiae of their lives. And as these survivors view the archive, the remaining parent sees the past with different eyes than his boys, who carry an inexplicable anger at this man for something their mother did. They discover just what when they find some letters in the attic — a cliché relied on here to set up the family dysfunction powering the plot.

If only there were some authentic connections among the characters. I tried but could find no reason to care about this family. It isn’t until the fifth number, “Nobody Tells You,” that the three men and a hanger-on hospice worker, Lizzie (Lindsay Mendez), express what the aftermath of this loss feels like. The delayed reaction may be Blaemire’s intention, but it’s quickly followed by Gene’s “House to Myself,” in which the middle-aged widower relishes being a bachelor and a slob again.

It’s all very flip — not taboo-busting enough to be edgy, not amusing enough to remember. The material is too inert to engage; even the show’s title fails to stick.

The actors are capable, and they’re also fine singers. Jenkins, in particular, finds moments that allow him to briefly delve beneath the surface. But the musical jumps from song to song with little thread between, limiting such opportunities for him and the rest of the cast. Several talented musicians (directed by Cian McCarthy) remain offstage and out of sight, playing songs that, despite some striking arrangements and a few that hit the mark, sound too similar over the course of the show.

As is often the case with a Rep production, the star is the set (designed here by Wilson Chin). Configured in three tiers — the basement, the living area and an upstairs — it’s visually appealing and splits apart to become a playground with hanging swings or a remote locale in Vermont (where a fifth character, the too-cute Molly, portrayed by Kayla Foster, appears for two numbers). Video and set conspire best in Act 2’s “Driving,” when Hughes, Tacconi and Mendez sing on a bare stage with landscape whizzing by behind them. The sensation of rootlessness goes the furthest toward making an impression, some reason to give this thin, disjointed show any thought later.

I’m not this musical’s target audience, but I’d guess that the 20-something set isn’t going to be fully satisfied, either. When these family members finally express their joint sadness in “I Miss,” it occurs too late in the game. Maybe with some reconfiguring, this show, like the characters’ relationships, can be put back together and healed.