Checkmate, Cold War: My First Time Seeing ‘Chess’
Walking into Chess for the first time, I expected two things: Cold War vibes and at least one song I’d heard out of context at karaoke. What I didn’t expect was how quickly the show would make me feel like I’d stepped into a glamorous political thriller scored like an arena concert. The production frames itself as a seductive showdown of love, loyalty, and power, with two elite chess players battling for something bigger than a trophy and a woman caught in the crossfire. That description fits, but it’s also a little too polite. The real experience is messier, louder, and more emotionally raw in the best way.
As a newcomer, I’ll be honest: the plot of Chess has a reputation, and you can sense the show acknowledging it. This revival is propelled by a new script by Danny Strong and direction by Michael Mayer, with music and lyrics by Benny Andersson, Björn Ulvaeus, and Tim Rice. The foundation remains the same: international chess as a proxy war, romance as collateral damage, and fame as a weapon that turns human beings into talking points. The key difference is that this staging leans into theatricality rather than trying to sand it down into realism. For a first timer, that is a gift. It signals right away that you don’t have to catch every political detail to understand what’s at stake.
[Warning: Spoilers from Chess are below!]
The story of Chess, as it plays to a first timer
At its heart, Chess centers on a world chess championship that becomes a media frenzy. On one side is Freddie Trumper, the American champion, a volatile mix of talent, ego, and impulsiveness. On the other is Anatoly Sergievsky, the Soviet challenger, calm on the surface but simmering underneath. Between them is Florence Vassy, Freddie’s second, who is far more than an assistant and far less than secure. That triangle drives the story. The politics fuel it.
The tournament is overseen by the Arbiter, who functions like a ringmaster, keeping the match moving while the chaos keeps spreading. On the Soviet side, there is Molokov, who embodies the blunt force of state control with an almost casual menace. On the American side is Walter, whose presence makes it very clear that nobody in this story is only what they claim to be. Add Svetlana, Anatoly’s wife, and the love triangle stops being romantic intrigue and turns into something sharper: an ethical dilemma with real consequences.
As someone new to the show, I found the first act relatively easy to follow because the emotional dynamics are clean. Freddie wants to win and be adored. Anatoly wants to win and be free. Florence wants to matter without being used. The politics complicate everything, but the relationships keep you anchored. The second half is where Chess starts daring you to keep up. The locations shift, alliances bend, and the story begins moving like a thriller. As a first timer, I didn’t catch every strategic detail, but I also didn’t need to. The show smartly gives you emotional landmarks, usually in the form of a big number that clarifies what someone is risking, choosing, or losing.
The sound of this Broadway musical is the point
Let’s say the quiet part out loud: people come to Chess for the music. The show often feels like it was built song first and plot second, and this revival treats that as a feature, not a flaw. The score has that unmistakable 1980s pop opera confidence, where the melodies do not tiptoe or politely suggest. They kick the door open. Even if you’ve never seen the show, you recognize the sound immediately: big hooks, high drama, and choruses that feel designed for you to belt in the car like you’re processing a breakup you didn’t even have.
What makes this cast so effective is that they sing like they have something to lose, not like they’re showing off for applause. Freddie’s music needs swagger and danger. Anatoly’s needs restraint that threatens to crack. Florence’s needs clarity, longing, and steel. When the trio hits those marks, you stop worrying about plot mechanics and start feeling the show in your ribs, which is exactly what Chess wants. The staging supports that musical power. The choreography keeps the evening moving and builds a sense of spectacle that fits the “global event” energy. This does not feel like a show where people stand in a line and sing nicely. It understands that chess can be theatrical: the stillness, the calculation, the sudden aggression, and the way the room holds its breath when someone makes a move that changes everything.
Performances that helped me lock into Chess
Freddie Trumper (Aaron Tveit) is a role that can easily read as a tantrum in designer clothes. The version that works is the one that makes him brilliant and frightening in equal measure, because his ego is not just obnoxious, it’s volatile. What makes the performance land is the sense that Freddie doesn’t know how to exist without being the headline. That gives his worst moments real danger, not cartoon energy, and it makes his flashes of vulnerability feel like cracks in armor rather than a convenient plot beat.
Florence Vassy (Lea Michele) is the role that can make or break the show for a first timer. If she is played as a passive prize, the entire concept collapses. When she is played as a fully realized person, she becomes the center of gravity. Here, Florence reads as a live wire of competence and emotion. She is constantly translating between worlds, between egos, between ideologies, and she looks tired in a way that feels earned. That exhaustion becomes part of her strength. You feel how often she is asked to absorb the consequences of men’s choices, and you feel the cost of her continuing to stand upright anyway.
Anatoly Sergievsky (u/s Sean Maclaughlin) needs quiet intensity, not bland nobility. What makes him compelling is the sense that every move carries a price, not just on the board but in his body. When the performance gives him that internal pressure, his choices stop being abstract. You understand why Florence is drawn to him, and you also understand why that attraction becomes morally complicated, because it is not simply about romance. It is about escape, identity, and survival.
Then there’s Svetlana Sergievskaya (Hannah Cruz), who reshapes the emotional landscape of the show. As a first timer, I walked in expecting a familiar dynamic, only to have the show flip it. Svetlana is not an obstacle. She is a person. Her pain is not background noise. It is part of the story’s moral accounting, and when the production treats her that way, the narrative suddenly becomes sharper and more human.
Why Chess works, even if you’ve never seen it
Here is my strong opinion: Chess works best when you watch it as a story about public branding and private damage. People are marketed, manipulated, praised, discarded, and used as symbols while trying to keep their real selves intact behind the headlines. You do not need to be a chess expert. You do not need to be a Cold War historian. You just need to recognize what it looks like when competition becomes propaganda and love becomes leverage.
That is what makes the show feel relevant, even while it leans into retro spectacle. The idea that sports and celebrity narratives can be weaponized by powerful interests is not a dated concept. It is daily life. The idea that someone can be celebrated one moment and torn apart the next for making the “wrong” move is not a period detail. It’s a system. Chess puts that system onstage with enough volume and flair that you cannot pretend it is not happening.
If you need every plot point to be crystal clear, there may be moments where the story feels like it’s sprinting ahead of the explanation. The narrative has always had a chaotic streak, and this production does not apologize for it. Personally, I found that oddly freeing. Once the show stops trying to be tidy, you can surrender to what it does best: high-stakes emotional spectacle powered by a score that absolutely refuses to play small.
Know before you go
Venue: Imperial Theatre, 249 W 45th St, New York, NY 10036.
Run time: About 2 hours 40 minutes, including intermission.
Now extended through June 14, 2026.
Typical schedule: Tuesday through Sunday, with two shows on Wednesday and Saturday. A common weekly pattern is Tue 7:00 PM, Wed 2:00 PM and 7:30 PM, Thu 7:00 PM, Fri 7:00 PM, Sat 2:00 PM and 7:30 PM, Sun 3:00 PM. (Always double-check the performance calendar for holiday weeks.)
Tickets: Official tickets are sold through Telecharge. The box office also lists a Telecharge phone line at (212) 239-6200.
Budget options:
- $49 digital lottery, opens at 12:00 AM the day before the performance and closes at 3:00 PM, with drawings at 10:00 AM and 3:00 PM. Limit 2 tickets.
- $49 in person rush, limited same-day tickets at the box office, 10:00 AM daily (12:00 PM Sundays). Limit 2 tickets.
Box office hours: Mon to Sat 10:00 AM to 8:30 PM, Sun 12:00 PM to 6:00 PM.
Age guidance: Recommended for ages 12 and up. Children under 4 are not permitted in the theater.
Sensory heads up: The production includes haze or fog, loud sudden sounds, and flashing lights.
Final verdict of Chess
As someone who walked in cold, I left understanding why Chess has held onto theater fans for decades. It is glossy, dramatic, and unafraid of its own big swing ambition. It is also sincere about the cost of the game it depicts. Even with a plot that sometimes moves like a fever dream, the show’s emotional engine is clear, and the music is the kind that lingers in your head long after the curtain call.
Want the most up-to-date cast and schedule info? Check the official Chess show site. Have you seen it yet? What did you think? Tell us and tag @bsb.insider on social media.
