"Memphis" -- Ivoryton Playhouse -- Thru Aug. 30
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| Carson Higgins (center) and the cast of Memphis. All photos by Roger Williams |
The Ivoryton Playhouse is following
up its stellar production of South
Pacific with another musical that deals with racial tension. Memphis, winner
of the 2010 Tony for Best Musical, is based on the life of Dewey Phillips, a Memphis disc jockey who
was one of the first white DJs to play “black” music. The production (with Dream Girls in its DNA and Show Boat in its family tree), here
directed and choreographed by Todd Underwood, boasts music by David Bryan (Bon
Jovi’s keyboardist) and book and lyrics by Joe DiPietro (who also penned I Love You, You’re Perfect, Now Change
and All Shook Up). In its current
manifestation, the Ivoryton production is an entertaining, deftly staged two
hours of ballads, Gospel and Rock ‘N Roll, framed by an inter-racial love story
and the burgeoning civil rights movement of the 1950s. Given some minor technical
problems that will be ironed out, it is sure to please audiences as much as South Pacific did.
Memphis
opens with two DJs, one white, one black (on balconies stage right and left,
compliments of scenic designer Martin Scott Marchitto), introducing music that
illustrates the divide that existed in the early 50s: there is mainstream “white”
music that fills the airways (think Perry Como and Patti Page) and then there
is what is politely termed “racial” music (there are other, more pejorative
terms for it). The white DJ is broadcasting on a station located “in the middle
of the dial,” while the black DJ is on a station whose frequency puts it at the
end of the dial (If you ask “What dial?” talk with your grandparents).
In essence, racial music is
segregated, for, to borrow from Meredith Wilson’s The Music Man, there’s a fear that what is being purveyed will
“grab your son and your daughter / With the arms of a jungle animal instink! /
Mass-staria!” The lyrics and the pulsing beat of “racial” music often speak to
sexual desires and fulfillment (versus Page’s cooing about the cost of a
“doggie in the window”). There’s a need to “Scratch my Itch,” and in
mid-century Memphis
“itches” were seldom spoken of and the scratching of same in an inter-racial
relationship was anathema.
As a side-bar, audience members of
a certain age (I’m thinking here primarily of Millennials) may find some of the
implied tensions and allusions in Memphis a bit
confusing or opaque. It’s not that racial problems have disappeared, (current headlines
put the lie to that supposition), but things have changed, and the sight of an inter-racial couple walking
hand-in-hand down the street no longer has the visceral impact it once did, nor
are there laws on the books that ban miscegenation. DiPietro has chosen, and
wisely so, not to turn Memphis
into a polemic, thus leaving many things not fully explained (either
emotionally or intellectually) for those who have no memory of Selma, Rosa Parks or “White Only” water
fountains. Again, if you are of a certain age and are planning to attend, you
would do well to do so with your grandparents, then take them out to dinner and
ask a lot of questions. You might be surprised at their answers.
The DJ lead-in is followed by a
night at “Delray’s,” a black bar owned by Delray (Terren Carter) that features
“racial” music, much of it sung by Delray’s sister, Felicia (Renee Jackson) as
lead singer. The crowd goes suddenly silent as a door opens and Huey (the
charismatic Carson Higgins) enters, the silence engendered because Huey is
white. Patrons scramble to leave, but Huey rushes to a piano to explain that
their music is “The Music of My Soul.” Thus, the conflict is established early:
Delray doesn’t buy “Whitey’s” protestations and senses only trouble brewing,
while Huey is attracted not only to the music but also to Felicia.
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Renee Jackson
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Huey has been something of a
non-entity, but his attraction to “racial” music becomes his ticket to a
certain amount of local fame and fortune, for he parlays his proclivities into,
first, a job selling records, and then a spot as a DJ on one of the local
“white” radio stations owned by Mr. Simmons (Beau Allen), a pragmatic
businessman. He spins rock ‘n roll platters rather than schmaltz, and the
response, especially amongst the youth of Memphis,
is overwhelmingly positive. Soon, Huey has his own TV dance show (with black
dancers) and is deep in a relationship with Felicia, much to the initial
consternation of his mother Gladys (Melodie Wolford). Huey and Felicia are, of
course, star-crossed lovers, and while Felicia goes on to fame, fortune and a
national tour, Huey’s star fades, while that of Richard (i.e. “Dick) Clark rises.
(Who’s Dick Clark? Ask your grandparents). Yet, there is a final recognition of
what Huey has accomplished when Felicia, back in Memphis on tour, asks him to share the stage
with her, leading to the rousing “Steal Your Rock ‘N Roll” finale.
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| Melodie Wolford and Carson Higgins |
That all of this works, and works
so well, is, first, a credit to Underwood, who keeps things moving and has
managed to utilize every inch of the somewhat limited Ivoryton stage space. It
all seems bigger than it really is, and this is because Underwood understands
how best to utilize tight space. In an interview a year ago, when Underwood was
choreographing
La Cage aux Folles for
Ivoryton, he explained that the key is to build “from being just mid-stage to
using the entire stage and that will give the illusion the theater is bigger.
Of course, lighting helps and costumes help, and keeping the number building
and moving, making sure that it doesn’t become stagnant.” His philosophy is
apparent in the many ensemble numbers in
Memphis, no
more so than in the finale, which has multiple “builds.”
One of the director’s jobs is to
focus the audience’s attention, to basically tell them what to look at, and
proof of Underwood’s skill in doing this is a dance scene that takes place at
the television studio. The dancers are center stage, with the TV camera lower
stage right, but the script calls for a minor dramatic interaction between some
of the major characters. This could have been visually confusing, but what
Underwood does is have the camera shift up stage, drawing the dancers away to
form a diagonal line with their backs to the audience as other actors move into
the center stage area. It’s a nifty piece of blocking that continues the dance
while manipulating focus.
As good as Underwood is, Ivoryton’s
Memphis lives or dies with the talent
up there on the stage, and it is, across the board, excellent, starting with
Higgins as Huey. He’s awkward when necessary, geeky, and often
self-deprecating, yet Higgins gives Huey an essential joie de vivre that is
entrancing and engaging, an unbridled enthusiasm for life and the music that
allows him to overcome put-downs, violence and prejudice. There may be some in
the audience who may not, initially, buy the character’s apparent cluelessness
about the nature of race relations in mid-century Memphis (or his illiteracy),
and it does take a little suspension of disbelief to accept that his
guilelessness is not feigned, but Higgins, with his “Aw, shucks” manner,
manages to pull it off.
As Huey’s love interest, Jackson is both sensual
and restrained, ably conveying the frustrations of a black woman even
considering a relationship with a white man in the mid-century culture of the
South. The only problem with her performance is a technical one – it’s a sound
problem. Often her dialogue is a bit mushy, and it’s often difficult to
understand the lyrics when she is singing (also true for many of the other
actors) – and many of the lyrics are intrinsic to an understanding of what is
going on. This is not the fault of the actor but rather that of the technical
staff which, most likely, is aware of the problem and will resolve same (this
was just the second preview and, from what I understand, tech rehearsals never
got to run through the entire show). There are also some problems with
projected images (which seem superfluous) – meant to present visual reminders
of the era, many look more like gray blobs.
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| Jamal Shuriah, David Robbins, Garrett Turner, Kevin Moeti and Taavon Gamble |
Supporting cast members add style
and flair to the production, and many have their moments in the spotlight.
There’s Bobby (David Robbins), an erstwhile janitor who is thrust onto the
stage of Huey’s TV show and delivers a powerful and moving “Big Love.” Then
there’s Gator (Jamal Shuriah), who plays a mute (going silent as a child after
seeing his father being lynched) who finally bursts into song with the
heartfelt “Say a Prayer.” And not to be missed is Wolford as Huey’s mom, a lady
who is changed by her son’s advocacy and the fervor of the parishioners of a
local black church, which leads her to the rousing “Change Don’t Come Easy.”
Finally, Carter, as Felicia’s
brother, is the whetstone against which Huey must sharpen his sensitivities
about what he is doing and the realities of race relations circa 1950. Carter
gives us a Delray that is a strong mixture of controlled rage and compassion,
and basically stops the show near the end of Act One with his rendition of
“She’s My Sister.”
Yes, there are stereotypes and the
plot seldom rises above that of a soap opera, but this isn’t supposed to be
Ibsen or Williams, it’s a musical, and as such it deals with racial tensions
and discrimination in a format that, while thought-provoking, seeks to entertain.
And, yes, there’s a message, but DiPietro isn’t didactic, and Underwood has
opted to let the book speak for itself without feeling compelled to drive home
a point.
What he has done, with the help of
some very effective lighting by Doug Harry and Marchitto’s versatile, fluid set
(which evokes a dance club, several radio stations, a kitchen, an apartment and
a TV station), is give us a basic story line punctuated by musical set-pieces
that capture an era and all of its inherent tensions, delights and
frustrations, and as for build, besides the aforementioned finale, all you have
to do is sit back and watch Act Two’s multi-layered “Tear Down the House” to
enjoy how a musical number can entertain, advance the plot and play on your
emotions all at the same time. It’s a fine piece of work by all involved, as is
Memphis.
