‘Stay gold, Ponyboy’ ... set to music? ‘The Outsiders’ comes to Broadway.

S.E. Hinton’s classic novel “The Outsiders” has been read by generations of American teens. The nearly 60-year-old story was turned into an iconic 1983 movie starring Matt Dillon, Patrick Swayze, and Ralph Macchio. Its narrative chops and cultural clout are undisputed. What might be more surprising is that its newest incarnation is a Broadway musical, which opened last Thursday.

With previews all but selling out, part of the draw may be its star-studded creative and producing team, featuring award-winning playwright Adam Rapp, Tony Award winner Justin Levine, and Oscar winner Angelina Jolie.

But perhaps more important is the story’s relevance at a moment when people seem divided on everything. The book has sold 15 million copies worldwide, and critics often credit it with inventing the young adult genre. Set in Tulsa, Oklahoma, in the late 1960s, “The Outsiders” follows Ponyboy Curtis (Brody Grant), an orphan eking out a life alongside his older brothers. It tracks the constant conflict between two factions – the Greasers and the Socs – and succeeds in making the audience sympathize with both. It’s a hopeful reminder that those differences that seem so intractable might not be impossible to overcome after all.

“It’s a good tale for right now,” says audience member Sue Miller after the March 30 preview, which garnered a standing ovation. “There are so many factions in our world right now, and I think we just really need to come together and try to get along.”

Longtime fans of the story wondering about the prospect of Ponyboy and Sodapop bursting into song are definitely not alone. Mr. Rapp, who describes himself as “not a musical theater person – in fact, I openly dislike many musicals,” says he was surprised when he was asked to write the book for the show. “When I go see musicals, it’s like, why are they singing?”

His interview with the Monitor staff writer Cameron Pugh has been edited for length and clarity. 

What made you want to adapt “The Outsiders” into a musical? What drew you to the story?

It was kind of one of the early books that turned me into a reader. I would become a much more serious reader later. But I never forgot it.

What role do you think music plays in the story? Because I admit, when I saw that there was an adaptation, I was really excited. But I was surprised that it was a musical.

I think the main thing that I thought about was, these are wonderfully inarticulate kids. And I mean inarticulate in the way that, like, how kids today are sophisticated and how they emotionally process things. They’re sophisticated in how they discuss gender identity and sexuality and  their feelings. These kids from this 1967 kind of era don’t have that ability. So what made sense to me was to honor that. But when they sang, it’s when they couldn’t articulate something. And that the singing part of it became a new voice, or a new form of expression, because they had no other recourse. And so the songwriters and I ... we always kept that as our North Star. Like, why? Why is he having to sing this? Why can’t he say it? 

I thought a lot about the diversity of the cast. Particularly in that scene between Darry (Brent Comer) and Dally (Josh Boone) where they’re arguing. And Dally is sort of talking about how he thinks Darry thinks lesser of him. There’s sort of two ways to read that scene. And one of them is clearly racial. I was wondering if that’s something you were intentionally trying to bring into the story.

We didn’t want to author something that could only be done by a person with a certain skin type or a creed. ... We wanted it to be, “anyone can play the role.” So ... we’re not using the word “Black” or “African American” or anything like that. We’re using, “I see the way you look at me.” It could be like he’s looking at him because he’s lower, less than him. He’s poorer than he is. You know, we try to be somewhat generous with that so that if the play gets done in high schools and colleges and cities around the world, that anybody – white, Black, Asian – anybody could play the part. We were very sensitive to that. 

But also it was important to Josh [Boone], while we’re in the moment, to like have him acknowledge the fact that he is a Black man playing that role with a white Darry and white Sodapop and a white Ponyboy. And that’s the truth. Like, we can’t deny that. And even, especially in Tulsa, where there’s so much history of racial violence and so much history of disruptions and those classes, of the haves and the have-nots. ... I feel like if we didn’t at least acknowledge it, and open it up a little bit, we’d kind of be lying, you know? And I’m glad that Josh, our actor, actually yearned for it.

I felt like a lot of the characters were explored almost more deeply than they were in the novel. In the novel, we’re getting Ponyboy’s perspective. We’re getting, “This is what I think Darry thinks.” And then in the show, we’re actually getting to see Darry sing about how he feels. And I’m just curious how you went about crafting those scenes and those character moments.  

I felt really, really strongly that it’s an ensemble piece. I felt really strongly that Dally’s character was someone. ... And also the relationship between those three brothers, which is sort of the heartbeat of the story in some ways. All those people, to me, deserved real estate, narrative real estate, and deserved to be heard ... with songs and with good book scenes and good stuff to say.

I was also really struck by how much of the music in particular felt really joyful. I couldn’t help but smile at some parts of it, even though the story itself has a lot of darkness and a lot of tragedy. 

Well, we knew how much sadness there is in the story. And as you said, sadness and tragedy. ...  [The big three-minute rumble scene] is one of the most thrilling sequences I’ve ever seen in anything I’ve been involved with, you know? But I think because of that, like the counterpoint, you have to find the vitality and why these kids want to be around each other. You have to find the sort of notion of the chosen family, the joys of that, the goofing off, you know, the pleasures of life, even.