A CAMPY, CELINE-FUELED SPOOF THAT DELIVERS BIG LAUGHS… AND A FEW AWKWARD SILENCES
Broadway just welcomed its most chaotic new arrival, and darling, “Titanique” is serving glitter, guts, and just enough madness to keep the ship moving—even if it occasionally hits rough waters.
Let’s be clear: this is not your typical polished Broadway darling. Titanique still feels like the scrappy downtown misfit it once was—and honestly, that’s both its biggest strength and its most glaring flaw. What started as a cheeky, under-the-radar hit has now inflated into a full-scale Broadway production, but not every joke or moment expands quite as well as the theater size.
The beating heart of the show is Marla Mindelle’s gloriously unhinged Céline Dion. And when I say unhinged, I mean it in the best possible way. She doesn’t just play Céline—she becomes a heightened, surreal version of the global icon, floating through the story as narrator, diva, and occasional chaos agent. It’s the kind of performance that makes you laugh simply because she’s so committed to the bit. There’s confidence here, and a wink that says: “Yes, this is ridiculous—and you’re going to love it.”
And often, you do.
‘Titanique’ Behind the Scenes
The premise itself is deliciously absurd. Céline crashes a Titanic museum tour and insists she was actually on the ship, retelling Jack and Rose’s love story through her own dramatic, music-filled lens. From there, the show gleefully dismantles the Oscar-winning film, turning its beloved characters into exaggerated, borderline outrageous caricatures.
Jack? A pretty boy with more charm than brains.
Rose? Less tragic heroine, more bubbly ingénue.
Cal? Practically a villain out of a cartoon—high camp, high ego, and very funny when it works.
And that’s the key phrase here: when it works.
Because for every joke that lands with a roar of laughter, there’s another that feels just a little too eager, a little too stretched. Some bits lean heavily on shock value or inside humor that doesn’t quite translate to a bigger, broader Broadway audience. You can almost feel where the show used to thrive in a smaller, more intimate space—where the jokes felt like you were in on something naughty and exclusive.
Now? The wink is still there, but it’s harder to catch from the back row.
Vocally, though, the show delivers. The Céline Dion songbook is the backbone, and those powerhouse ballads still hit. “My Heart Will Go On,” “All By Myself,” and the rest are woven into the story with gleeful abandon—less concerned with logic, more focused on giving the audience a moment. It’s jukebox musical mayhem, but when those voices soar, you don’t really care how you got there.
Still, the transition to a larger Broadway house isn’t entirely kind. The production feels a bit swallowed by the space, with staging that sometimes struggles to keep up with the rapid-fire humor. What once felt intimate and electric now occasionally feels… diluted. The magic hasn’t disappeared, but it flickers instead of blazes.
And yet—there’s something undeniably lovable about Titanique. It knows exactly what it is: silly, over-the-top, and proudly ridiculous. It’s not aiming for prestige or perfection. It’s aiming for fun.
Does it always hit the mark? No.
Does it occasionally try too hard? Absolutely.
But when it clicks, it’s a riot.
You walk in expecting Céline nostalgia… and walk out talking about Mindelle.
Messy? Yes.
Memorable? Also yes.
And in a Broadway season full of seriousness, that might just be enough to keep this wild little ship afloat.
Rob’s latest exclusives and insider reporting can be found at robshuter.substack.com
His forthcoming novel, It Started With A Whisper, is now available for pre-order. The book follows four ambitious entertainment insiders who land coveted jobs on a struggling D-list cable morning show built entirely around celebrity gossip. Hired to expose the secrets of the famous, they soon discover the real story is inside the studio — because each of them is hiding something explosive. In a world where “today’s gossip is tomorrow’s news,” the biggest scandal may be their own.