Idina Menzel’s ‘Redwood’ from an Ecocritical Perspective

After nearly a decade, Idina Menzel has returned to Broadway with Redwood, a musical she co-created. If you don’t recognize the name, she is the star behind Rent’s Maureen, Wicked’s Elphaba, and even the voice behind Frozen’s Elsa. This Broadway legend has originated a role custom-made for her, singing in 13 of the 17 [non-instrumental] musical numbers. Yet once you dive beyond being in awe of her voice, you start to question the messaging that this show chooses to display.

Idina Menzel plays Jesse, a once-successful businesswoman and mother who leaves everything behind to run away to the California Redwood Forest to escape from her grief about her son, Spencer, who accidentally overdosed on fentanyl a year before the show takes place. Her escape is as much an escape from the present as it is the past - her wife, Mel, wants to openly grieve and talk about their son, while Jesse isn’t able.

So she “goes to the woods to live deliberately, to suck up all the marrow out of life,” etc, etc. The Henry David Thoreau quote is honestly a quite accurate synopsis of the play - Jesse comes across a group of researchers climbing to the top of a Redwood tree and practically (and eventually, successfully) begs them to first, climb and second, sleep in the tree. Jesse treats the redwood forest similarly to Thoreau’s Walden - nature as a secluded place to escape from the troubles of reality. Arguably the most popular song of the show, “Great Escape” has the lyrics: “Cause from here, I can see it clearly / It’s nature’s remedy / Far away from the pain / I’ll stay / and I’ll make my great escape.”

This is a key example of “nature writing,” which is commonly labeled by ecocritics to signify the idea of nature as an ideal, human-free space where people flee to escape the harsheties of life. Mary Oliver’s poetry is a key example of this, as she discusses the “quiet occurrences of nature” - birds, ponds, and the like. Yet by creating a harsh divide between the human and the natural, we also eliminate any source of responsibility of humanity to conserve and maintain nature. We ogle at parks, gaze in wonder at landscapes, and then return to our urban structures without thinking of the consequences. Lynn Keller’s book Recomposing Ecopoetics: North American Poetry of the Self-Conscious Anthropocene describes this sort of thinking as deeply problematic - “its dualistic vision of humans as separate from nature poses a serious threat to responsible environmentalism because it does not encourage people to live sustainably and respectfully in nature.” (Keller 13).

This is apparent in Jesse. She uses the Redwood tree, which she names Stella, as a means to an end - a way to escape from her grief. Throughout the show, she discusses the transcendental nature of the trees, taking song after song to discuss what the trees have done for her. When she

finally gets to live on a platform attached to “Stella,” she sings the song “In The Leaves,” which contain these lyrics: “In your arms / I feel safe again / in the leaves / I am home again / in the green / I can now begin living / living in the leaves.”

Never does Jesse acknowledge the effect of her presence on the environment around her. In this show about nature and these beautiful trees, advertised as a love letter to the redwoods, why is the human impact cast aside? Where is the musical number where Jesse acknowledges her role in the anthropocene?

The anthropocene is defined as the period during which human activity has been the dominant influence on the climate and environment. There really is no place that is entirely pristine or untouched by humanity, as even showcased by the presence of the researchers, Becca and Finn, who built the platform attached to the tree where Jesse eventually spends the night. Jesse can describe it as an escape from her life, sure, but there is no place that can escape the grabby hands of humanity.

Despite countless talks about “honoring the trees,” and even a [quite-performative] “bow down in silence” to acknowledge the spiritual value of the trees, the characters do not truly take responsibility for the environment around them. Jesse is so self-absorbed in her grief that she demands that these researchers take time out of their work, their grant to teach her, a completely inexperienced urbanite, how to climb a tree and to let her stay in the platform for about ten days, after which she does come to terms with the death of her son. Finn, the head researcher, lets his pity for this strange woman distract him from his work and the safety of all involved (including the trees!), despite protests from Becca. These researchers also aren’t immune to the “nature writing” perspective, because despite their insistence on science, Finn (played by Michael Park of Dear Evan Hansen fame) leads a song called “Big Tree Religion,” which is, well, exactly what it sounds like.

Speaking of “Big Tree Religion,” if the role of the Redwood tree was replaced with a spiritual deity, the plot would be able to function the same. The researchers would be replaced by (for example) churchgoers showing Jesse the “way of the Lord” and her sleeping in, say, a church basement. This equivalence of nature as a sacred deity is once again eliminating the responsibility of humanity to take action on behalf of nature.

Even in interviews with Idina Menzel and the writers, Tina Landau and Kate Diaz, the redwood is described as a metaphor for resilience, a character trait that humans should embrace as their own. The trees give and we take - literally, spiritually, all of the above. While resilience and strength is a beautiful sentiment, it lets us “take what we like” from the metaphorical value without acknowledging everything that comes with the trees. Even when a wildfire plagues the forest, the main concern is on humanity - firstly Jesse’s safety, and secondly a side plot about

Finn needing to “spend more time with his son.” The creators of Redwood found a metaphorical fork in the road between “nature” (or rather, ecology) and “culture” and decided to go for the latter, creating a half-baked idea of environmental inclusion while creating a narrative that doesn’t place the necessary importance on the trees.

Here are some things you do take away from Idina Menzel’s Redwood. Firstly, that woman can belt like nobody’s business. Secondly, the choreography and scenery of Jesse and the researchers climbing the redwood tree is absolutely gorgeous and well done. But beyond that, you take away a lot of confusion. After ten days on the platform, Jesse is suddenly able to confront her son’s death, her son even magically appearing to her in a vision presented by the tree, which compels her to attempt to make amends with her wife. The wildfire is used as a means for Finn to suddenly realize he needs to go home and spend time with his family. We are never told as audience members what type of research these two are performing, or any sort of importance of the trees beyond whatever drives the plot along.

The prefatory note to Forrest Gander and John Kinsella’s book Redstart opens with a question - “why does “the land” have to give something back to the writer?” (Redstart vii) It goes on to describe this sentiment as the “disease of Western subjectivity,” where we constantly ask what the land would give us instead of what we can give back. Instead of a show that centers revolves solely around Jesse’s devastation and deterioration, I would’ve loved to see a version of Redwood where, at the very least, Jesse takes what she learned from the trees and puts her future energy into conserving and taking care of the redwoods [possibly even naming a charity after her deceased son] and acknowledging her role in the anthropocene. Because if we keep taking, and taking, and taking, eventually there won’t be anything left.

The importance of ecocritical art is to combine the knowledge of our impact with our humanity in order to acknowledge our impact and, well, do something about it. By showcasing such stories, we encourage more and more people to take action in conserving our planet. Unfortunately, Redwood has foregone these ideas for the sake of a human-centric, still quite unarticulated plotline and Idina Menzel’s belt.

Works Cited

Hardy, Matthew. “Broadway Review: REDWOOD - Bored & Confused?” YouTube, YouTube, www.youtube.com/watch?v=SVopbVjxiB4. Accessed 30 Mar. 2025.

“Idina Menzel - Live in Toronto - Great Escape.” YouTube, YouTube, www.youtube.com/watch?v=CVKX9a-VWNA. Accessed 30 Mar. 2025.

“Idina Menzel Preforms ‘In The Leaves’ Today Show.” YouTube, YouTube, www.youtube.com/watch?v=OzH1t3H0jJ0. Accessed 30 Mar. 2025.

Keller, Lynn. Recomposing Ecopoetics: North American Poetry of the Self-conscious Anthropocene. University of Virginia Press, 2017.

“Mary Oliver.” Poetry Foundation, Poetry Foundation, www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/mary-oliver. Accessed 30 Mar. 2025.

Uribe, Colleen. “Little Redwood (from Redwood) -Idina Menzel.” YouTube, YouTube, www.youtube.com/watch?v=tlTpw3l1VHA. Accessed 30 Mar. 2025.

William Flejter (2006) is an author, musician, and UMass Boston Student. With poetry and prose, he captures the world as it is, then asks the question - how can it be better? You can follow him on Instagram at @therealwillflejter.