Everything I Know I Learned From Musicals

Contest - Win a Lady Day at Emerson's Bar and Grill CD

One of my favorite theatrical experiences of this past season was seeing the lustrous Audra McDonald in the play Lady Day at Emerson's Bar and Grill, so much so that I went back a second time just to bask in Audra's glow.

Now, the good folks at PS Classics have seen fit to release a live, two-CD set of the the entire show. I just got mine, and I can't wait to settle down a give 'er a listen. 

But I also have a copy to give away, and as I periodically do on this blog, I've come up with a series of trivia questions about Audra, Billie Holiday, and whatnot to make things a little interesting. If you'd like to enter the contest, please answer the trivia questions in the comment section below. (Don't worry: I won't publish your answers until the contest is over.) I'll select a random winner from all of the correct entries. 

(The contest ended Friday, July 18th, 2014 - The winner has been notified. Thanks to everyone who entered. -C.C.)

All right, folks. Ready, set, Audra. 

1. For what show, and for which role, did Audra McDonald win her first Tony Award? [ANSWER: Carrie Pipperidge, Carousel]  
2. With her most recent Tony win, Audra not only won a record-breaking sixth Tony Award, the most of any actor of either gender, she also gained a certain unprecedented Tony distinction. What was that distinction? [ANSWER: She's the first actress to win in all four acting categories] 
3. Lonny Price, the director of the current production of Lady Day, in his earlier days created a significant role in a Stephen Sondheim musical. What was the musical and the role? [ANSWER: Charley Kringas, Merrily We Roll Along]  
4. One of Holiday's most iconic songs was "Strange Fruit." What does the title refer to? [ANSWER: It refers to the lynching of African American men]  
5. Which performer received an Academy Award nomination for portraying Billie Holiday, and in which movie? [ANSWER: Diana Ross in Lady Sings the Blues]

TIE-BREAKER: In the play Lady Day, Billie Holiday tells a story about confronting a racist restaurant hostess. What action does Holiday take at the end of this confrontation? [ANSWER: The restaurant hostess refuses to let Billie Holiday use the bathroom, so Holiday proceeds to urinate on the floor.]  

Reviews - Act One, Casa Valentina, Lady Day at the Emerson Bar & Grill

Regular readers will recall that I occasionally attend "straight" plays. (I prefer to call them "non-musicals.) My attendance at these belting-deprived affairs is usually contingent on the presence of some intriguing crossover from the world of musicals. Some of the actors perhaps, or members of the creative staff, might be slumming in between musical gigs.

The recently-ended season presented a fairly decent stock plays with musical-theater resonance. In preparation for the Tony Awards this evening, I'll be engaging in a little desk-clearing with this post, hoping to bring you up to speed on some of the "legitimate" offerings from the spring. (Musicals, as you know, are illegitimate, spawned disgracefully out of the holy bonds of wedlock)

Truth be told, I actually enjoy non-musicals a great deal. I try to focus my trips to New York City on seeing as many of the Broadway and Off-Broadway musicals as I can, but there's often time to add a play here or a dance performance there.

But don't worry, dear reader: my heart remains where it likely will always remain, firmly ensconced in the thoracic cavity of musical theater. (How's that for an overly specific metaphor?)

Casa Valentina has quite few ties with the musical-theater world, starting with author Harvey Fierstein, presenting his first non-musical in more than 20 years. Also present are director Joe Mantello, and a cast that features Patrick Page and John Cullum, certainly no strangers to the musical stage. The play concerns one weekend at a country getaway for heterosexual men who nonetheless like to dress in female clothing. Secrets and shame lurk behind every bush, as it were, and we eventually learn that the titular Casa Valentina is just shy of foreclosure, and desperately needs to form a seemingly unholy alliance just to stay afloat. As is typical in Fierstein's recent work, things get preachy as all hell, and there's a lot of expository speechifying. Nonetheless, Fierstein creates some vivid characterizations and crafts a setup that wrings compelling drama from the scenario. But then, at the end, he drops the ball with a denouement that is both forced and inscrutable. The show is worth seeing mainly because of two standout performances in the otherwise ensemble cast: Mare Winningham as the seemingly understanding wife of one of the men, and genial hostess for the weekend. Winningham really shows her stripes toward the end as the fabric of their little dreamworld begins to unravel. Tony nominee Reed Birney crafts a searing performance as the honored guest who knows everybody's secrets and is not above using them to her advantage.

The women who received Tony nods for Best Actress in a Musical this year can thank the fact that Lady Day at Emerson's Bar and Grill is technically a play, not a musical, although it does contain a full complement of Billie Holiday classics. Otherwise, Audra would have picked up her sixth Tony Award in a category with mostly strong competition this season. (Mary Bridget Davies? Puh-Leez.) It almost isn't fair how stunning Audra is onstage, and how versatile she is. So far, her Tonys are in three categories: Best Featured Actress in a Musical, Best actress in a Musical, and Best featured Actress in a Play. If she wins tonight, as I think and hope she will, she will have won in all four acting categories. (Perhaps then, we should take a tip from sports and retire her number, as it were.) Audra crafts a flawless rendition of Billie Holliday, but unlike Davies with her Janis Joplin impersonation, delves deeply into the character to show us her state of mind and spiral downward. The play takes place just months before Holliday's death, and Billie has seen better days. So we see her right before the end, and yet unlike End of the Rainbow, which dredged up a squalid and pathetic Judy Garland, Lady Day allows Holliday her last shreds of dignity.

I had heard mixed reactions going into Act One. Tedious and bloated, some said. Overly long and flat, said others. I, however, was thoroughly charmed, even captivated by author/director James Lapine's loving tribute to Moss Hart, based on Hart's own Act One, considered by many (myself included) to be the finest theatrical memoir ever written. The book and the play concern Hart's early rise into the world of show business, focusing primarily on his impoverished childhood, desperate need to work in the theater, and big break landing George S. Kaufman as a collaborating on his first big hit, Once in a Lifetime. Along the way we meet many colorful characters (many of them played by the always delicious Andrea Martin). I was predisposed to falling in love with these people, partly because I'm such a fan of the book, but also because I consider Moss Hart to be one of the unsung founders of musical theater. Sure, we hear about his Kaufman collaborations, but Hart was also instrumental in bringing greater cohesion, ambition, and social conscience to the American musical, including the shows he wrote himself (Lady in the Dark, As Thousands Cheer, Face the Music) as well as the ones he directed (My Fair Lady, Camelot). Central to making Act One the joy that it is are the two central performers, Santino Fontana as Hart as a young adult (three actors play Hart at various ages) and Tony Shalhoub, who plays Kaufman, among others. These remarkably appealing performers create the emotional center of the production, and Shalhoub is a riot when wrapping his teeth around Kaufman's legendary and infuriating mannerisms.

Review - Porgy and Bess Revival on Broadway

I continue to be amazed by purists who seem to think that any changes to  Porgy and Bess represent nothing less than sacrilege. Of course, it started with Stephen Sondheim's now-infamous screed in the New York Times, but it continues with various conversations I've had with people who've seen the show now that it's playing on Broadway. The orchestrations sound thin, they say. Or Norm Lewis is no Todd Duncan, they exclaim.

Well, Todd Duncan, with all due respect, is dead. And any modern production that attempted to use anywhere near the number of instruments that the original production featured wouldn't get past the budgeting stage. It would simply be too expensive. Does that mean we can't do Porgy and Bess ever again, if it can't be like it was? That we relegate George Gershwin's sensational music, Ira Gershwin's intelligent lyrics, and DuBose Heyward's compelling story to the history books?

Sorry to rant here, but this picayune niggling has sort of put a bee in my bonnet. Musical-theater aficionados have come to expect that, whenever we see a present-day production of a historic show, changes are inevitable to make the show work for modern audiences. Why is Porgy and Bess any different from any other show of that time? They all get rewritten, including Show Boat and Pal Joey. Is Porgy and Bess somehow more sacred?

From where I sit -- and where I sat, having seen the current production three times -- this new version of Porgy and Bess breathes thrilling new life into a show that, in the wrong hands, can become a creaky, listless bore. Director Diane Paulus and adapter Suzan-Lori Parks have made the drama more credible, the characters more believable. I saw the show twice at the American Repertory Theatre (read my review), and then once at the Richard Rodgers Theater on Broadway, and for me the production, which was splendid to begin with, has become even more teeming with life and emotion.

The performances in particular seem to have become richer and more nuanced as the production has had a chance to solidify. The glorious Audra McDonald is the paramount reason to see this production, and she remains stunning in her emotional intensity. Norm Lewis was out for the particular that I saw in New York, so we got understudy Nathaniel Stampley as Porgy. Well, Stampley can certainly sing the role, but he didn't have much of a presence on-stage. It made me appreciate all the more the understated yet palpable dignity that Norm Lewis brings to the role.

The supporting players appear to have developed a much richer sense of subtext, which was particularly present in the funeral scene and the hurricane segment. I got much more of a sense of the cohesiveness of the ensemble, and the emotional interactions helped these pivotal sequences build to a palpable wave of grief and communal connection. Whereas in Cambridge, I had an intellectual sense of the proceedings, in New York, I felt much more for the profound plight of these people.

There were numerous noticeable changes between the A.R.T. and Broadway versions of Porgy and Bess. The opening moment is staged somewhat differently: in Cambridge, Clara (Nikki Renée Daniels) sang "Summertime" in front of the traveler, but here she sings it as she ambles her way through the rest of the residents of Catfish Row. And this time, she wasn't holding an actual baby in her arms, but rather a theatrical representation (i.e. a doll). That was fine with me: I found the live baby in the Cambridge production to be distracting, particularly with all the cooing verbalizations that my neighboring audience members seemed compelled to share with their companions. 

The major physical change in the Broadway Porgy and Bess was the set, by Riccardo Hernandez. In Cambridge, the backdrop portion of Hernandez's set was a curved wooden monolith that titled up in an otherworldly fashion when Crown (Phillip Boykin) made his dramatic reappearance in the midst of the hurricane. His Broadway set was far more literal, and for me less effective, although it did offer the opportunity to see the Catfish Row residents turn out their lights in response to Bess's pleas for sanctuary.

Having already defended the current production of Porgy and Bess, I must admit that not all of the changes were necessarily welcome or effective. Some of Suzan-Lori Parks's new dialog is a bit clunky. At one point, Mariah, the sort-of spiritual mother of the Catfish Row contingent, opens a scene by saying, "Now you girls gotta help me get ready for this here picnic," a line that smacks more of forced exposition than natural dialog. A bit later, she says to Serena, "Now, it's been a month since Robbins (Serena's husband) pass," which again doesn't exactly bear the mark of verisimilitude.

And there are times when the new book seems a tad too efficient. When Crown reemerges for the hurricane scene, it no longer makes sense why he would go back out into the storm to rescue Clara. In the original, he does it to humiliate and taunt Porgy, to show that he's more of a he-man. But in the current version this fails to come through, and we're left to wonder why such a horrible human being would perform such a seemingly selfless act.

One element that remained unfortunately unchanged were the bright, pressed, pastel Sunday clothes that the people of Catfish Row wear to the picnic at the end of Act 1. The garments (by Emilio Sosa) are gorgeous, and make for a rather stunning stage picture, but they seem awfully expensive and fancified for these supposedly indigent people.

But, quibbles aside, the central aspects of this Porgy and Bess work extremely well: the glorious Gershwin score and the sensational cast of top-notch professionals. The best scene in the entire production remains, for me, when Crown reappears at the picnic, and Bess can't seem to resist the pull of desire ("What You Want With Bess?"). Audra McDonald's visceral conjuring of the dueling forces manifesting themselves within Bess ranks among the most harrowing and profoundly moving moments I've ever experienced in theater. And her delirium scene, after Bess stumbles back from Kittiwah Island, hit me like a sucker punch all three times I saw the show.

Due to strong ticket sales, Porgy and Bess has extended the end of its run from July 8th to September 30th. The CD for Porgy and Bess will receive its release from the good folks at PS Classics on May 8th. See the show. Get the CD. And let me know what you think. Are you a purist or a pragmatist? All are certainly welcome, but I think I've made it clear where my own allegience lies.

Review - Porgy and Bess at the American Repertory Theatre

A confession: There are certain historic entries into the musical-theater canon that I've never really warmed up to, supposed masterpieces that I can appreciate for their innovations and craft, but that in performance usually leave me cold. One of those is The Threepenny Opera, which, although I recognize its importance, I've never actually enjoyed on stage.

Porgy and Bess has, for me, typically fallen into the same category. I know I'm supposed to love it, but it's always felt like homework. I guess it's because I've never been much of an opera fan, and every time I've seen Porgy and Bess, it's featured singers performing in an operatic style, and the productions have been rife with recitative, which I detest.

Recently, I sheepishly admitted my disdain for recitative to the head of the vocal performance program at the Boston Conservatory, and she said, "That's because very few people write recitative well. And many don't know how to perform it." OK, so that made me feel a bit less like a uncultured slob, but I nonetheless approached the current production of Porgy and Bess at the American Repertory Theatre with a decent amount of dread.

Of course, I had heard ahead of time that the Porgy and Bess production staff, director Diane Paulus and libretto adapter Suzan-Lori Parks, were making changes to the show to make it more accessible. I mean, how could I not have heard about that, right? First came Patrick Healy's New York Times article about the production, followed by Stephen Sondheim's dyspeptic, cranky screed in response. (Nothing like judging a production you haven't seen, is there, Steve?) Thankfully, Paulus opted not to engage with Mr. Sondheim in his testiness, issuing a brief and respectful response. Audra McDonald was equally classy, responding on Twitter with a very simple message: "Here's what I think...to quote the greatest musical theater composer of our time...'Art isn't easy'."

I wound up seeing Porgy and Bess at the A.R.T. twice. In between the two performances that I attended, which were exactly a week apart, I rewatched the 1993 DVD of the 1986 Trevor Nunn production at England's Glyndebourne Festival. Nunn's production was over three hours long, and contained a lot of the recitative. (Oh, and, BTW, Mr. Sondheim, the DVD refers to the show as "The Gershwins' Porgy and Bess." And there's not a goat cart in sight.)

[SPOILER ALERT: Of necessity, I must discuss the ending of the show in the paragraphs below.]

The sequence of live show/DVD/live show again was actually perfect for appreciating what's really strong about Paulus's production. Mr. Sondheim needn't have worried. This Porgy and Bess is actually very respectful of the piece, and to the legacy of composer George Gershwin, lyricist Ira Gershwin, and librettist and co-lyricist DuBose Heyward. A huge portion of the recitative has been replaced by dialog, which speeds things up considerably. The song tempos are also considerably faster, and the staging and pace of the book scenes is full of urgency. The production as a whole feels so much more efficient, but also more heartfelt as a result.

Seeing the show twice afforded me the opportunity to witness a failed experiment on the part of Paulus and Parks. The first time I saw the show, the ending was a bit different from that of the original show. In this new version, when Porgy comes back from viewing Crown's body and spending a week in jail, Bess hasn't yet left for New York City with Sporting Life. This gave rise to a confrontation scene between Porgy and Bess, in which Porgy asked Bess if she really wanted to go, and Bess answered, "Yes." Bess left, and Porgy proceeded to sing "I'm on My Way." Presumably the boat hadn't left yet, and Porgy would have a chance to catch up to Bess.

Of course, in the original, Bess has long since left when Porgy returns, which gives rise to a heartbreaking scene in which the Catfish Row residents struggle to tell Porgy that Bess has gone. It's not clear whether Paulus and Parks made the switch because of Sondheim's letter, but in the long run, the show is better for it.

So, is this Porgy and Bess an opera or a musical? Well, at intermission at one of the performances I attended, I overheard the following interchange:

Man 1: "The program says they're making Porgy and Bess more of a musical than an opera."
Man 2: "Well, they're wearing microphones."
Man 1: "Is that the difference?"
Man 2: "And they're actually acting."

Hardly an accurate characterization of the genres, but it gave me a chuckle. More to the point, I was struck by a recent article by New York Times music critic Anthony Tommasini, in which he very succinctly and aptly captured the distinction: "Both genres seek to combine words and music in dynamic, felicitous and...artistic ways. But in opera, music is the driving force; in musical theater, words come first."

For me, the chief reason why this production of Porgy and Bess works so swimmingly the is that Paulus and Parks have succeeded in their aim of making the show more of a musical than an opera. Certainly the singing voices are more from a musical theater idiom than an operatic one. And, although this production doesn't stint on the music, the words really do come first here, and so do the characterizations.

The performances are vivid and fresh, particularly that of Audra McDonald, who brings a laser-sharp intensity to every moment she's on stage. Her confrontation scene with Crown, "What You Want With Bess," was by turns erotically charged and emotionally mesmerizing. You could see why she was so torn, drawn in by Crown's raw sexuality rather than merely repulsed by him. And her delirium scene after Bess has spent two days slogging through the marsh to return from Kittiwah Island was utterly heart-wrenching. I've rarely been so moved.

As for Norm Lewis as Porgy, he kind of ran hot and cold for me. It's certainly an asset to have a Porgy that you can imagine someone actually wanting to sleep with. (OK, not just someone. Me.) Having a sexually appealing Porgy makes the romance more credible. Porgy is more than just a convenient meal ticket for Bess: He's a genuine love interest. I've always melted at the sound of Lewis's rich, resonant baritone, and thrilled at the tonal quality of his upper range. But his emotional intensity came in and out during the book scenes. However, his climactic scene with Crown was stunning, full of seething rage and raw catharsis.

Based on the publicity that Sondheim's letter generated, a number of national critics broke with precedent and made the trip to Cambridge to review the show before its scheduled run in New York. Suddenly it wasn't just a show, it was news. In particular, Ben Brantley of the New York Times, weighed in last week, and although he marveled at Audra's performance, he was less than impressed with the rest of the production. According to Michael Riedel of the New York Post, Brantley's review made some people involved with bringing the show to New York question whether this was wise.

Well, from where I sit, this Porgy and Bess is too good not to go to New York. More people deserve to see, not only Audra's sensational performance, but also this engaging, passionate, and faithful take on this musical classic. Let's hope that cooler heads prevail, and that this production takes its rightful place at the Richard Rodgers Theater in December.