**Smash

Patently mislabeled – even as parody -- and now closing early

Megan Kane, Brooks Ashmanskas, Robyn Hurder, Kristine Nielsen, Krysta Rodriguez, John Behlmann. Photo: Matthew Murphy

It was a fun show on television, right? An “appointment-viewing” series in 2011-12, even with TiVo. So how did the Broadway version manage to go so wrong, dulling every glimmer of the dishy series’ appeal? The old razzle-dazzle has gone flat.

Casting Robyn Hurder (fresh off a run as Velma Kelly in Chicago) could be one key misstep. Playing “Ivy Lynn” playing Marilyn Monroe in the final rehearsals of “Bombshell,” a cheesy bio-musical intent on whiting out the icon’s tragic end, Hurder commandeers the stage from the get-go and gets the job done. She comes across as overbearing and smug, just about unbearably so despite some impressive high kicks and a stadium-sized voice. To be fair, perhaps the Vegas-y opening song, “Let Me Be Your Star” – as composed by Scott Wittman and Marc Shaiman, choreographed by Joshua Bergman, and directed by Susan Stroman – is meant to grate? Mission accomplished.

It would be a big mistake to go in hoping for even a glimpse of the original Marilyn (afterward, you might want to cue up “Gentlemen Prefer Blondes” as compensation). The jape is that a producer, Anita (Jacqueline B. Arnold, sleek) and hotshot director, Nigel (Brooks Ashmanskas, the show’s main saving grace) have cooked up a corker. Their only problem is that their star, already inclined to egotistical vapors, has fallen under the spell of a Method whisperer, Susan Proctor (Kristine Nielsen, shrouded in black and increasingly hilarious with each sighting).

The proposed show’s key songs have been set; still, the composers (Krysta Rodriguez, underutilized here, and John Behlmann) keep tinkering. Behlmann makes good use of the extra stage time he’s given, despite the fact that his character’s shtick is alcoholism – always, like laxatives (oh, yes), such a reliable font of mirth.

The company has an understudy on standby (lithe Caroline Bowman, who proves up to the task: she aces the striver’s lament “They Just Keep Moving the Line”), and even – in a that’ll-never-fly twist – a backup backup, aspiring director Chloe (Bella Coppola), who’s worried about being pressed into service as a token of body positivity. Doughtily seizing her chance at the spotlight, Chloe proves competent and loud: a stage-ready if zaftig Broadway baby fully prepared to bawl at the rafters.

Faux crises serially arise as egos collide, but genuinely comedic moments are scarce: the producer leash-training her new intern (Micholas Matos), and every single spit-take when Norman stumbles upon ghoulish Ms. Proctor. Perhaps they deserve their own show.

Broadway, to June 22