'Rolling Thunder' features some of the best music of my life

 

Rolling Thunder: A Rock Journey at New World Stages is Boomer heaven, a two-hour evening of 17 of the top songs of the late 60s and early 70s, which I have always felt had the greatest music of my lifetime.  These songs and a sense of freedom were part of the joy of that era, and the six talented performers evoke those memories with the songs.  But this time was also marked by tragedy.  The Vietnam war, which began in 1955 and continued until 1975, is the backdrop of the show and the songs reflect that as well.

 A program note says the characters are a composite of real people, “their essence and personalities distilled from research, actual letters and interviews with Vietnam veterans.”  Bryce Hallett, an Australian journalist and former arts editor at the Sydney Morning Herald, wrote the book and Kenneth Ferrone directs. 

Projection designer Caite Hevner creates the environment with scenes of the jungle in Vietnam and the soldiers’ letters describing the intense heat and humidity as they carried 90-pound packs on their backs.  Photos and news clips of protests at home, against the war and for civil rights, portray this turbulent and unique time in our history.  We hear from Presidents Johnson and Nixon and Walter Cronkite on TVs.  (My friend and I looked at each other and smiled.  He was our long-time neighbor, and wrote the introduction for my first book.)

After a dramatic opening of the cast singing “Magic Carpet Ride,”  we are introduced to the characters, spotlighted one by one.  Thomas (Justin Matthew Sargent) tells us how he came to join the Marines.  He saw an officer on his college campus and was inspired by his confidence and his uniform.  He thought, “That’s how I want to look.  I’m going to be a Marine.”

Johnny (Drew Becker) says people thought he’d gone mad when he enlisted in the Army “but I’ve been thinking about my one big chance for adventure, to see a bit of the world while I could.”

Linda (Cassadee Pope), Johnny’s girlfriend, says she understands why he’s going.  “I barely blinked as I watched the plane disappear among the clouds.  Johnny’s dad put his arm around me.  We didn’t say a word.”

Andy (Daniel Yearwood) says the training at Fort Campbell was mindless and tough.  “I wasn’t cut out for it.” 

Mike, who also plays Jimi and others, (Deon’te Goodman), a Black soldier like Andy, writes to his childhood friend after hearing he’s been drafted.  “Some of the guys don’t take well to the fully integrated units.  Take your riffle to the mess and the latrine.”

Andy’s Mom, who also plays Nurse Kelly and others (Courtnee Carter), writes to her son.  “I’m so worried.  Please take care and try not to lose yourself.  I will keep your room just the way you left it.  And remember, don’t go drinking that water!  I hear it’s been contaminated from all the chemicals they’ve been spraying.  I love you, sweetheart.  Mom” 

I remembered every one of the songs they sing, even though I was only in elementary school for the 60s.  “Black Magic Woman,” “Born to be Wild,” “Eve of Destruction,” “House of the Rising Sun,” “War” and “We Gotta Get Out of This Place” and the others are songs I haven’t heard in decades yet they instantly transported me back in time.  Chong Lim and Sonny Paladino provide the arrangements and orchestration and Paladino conducts the five-piece onstage band and plays keys.

Before the final scene the following appears as rows upon rows of names scroll up the length of the stage:

More than 2 million lives were lost and 3 million people were wounded.

Hundreds of children were left orphaned.

About 9 million Americans served on active duty during the official Vietnam War era between 1964 and 1973.

58,151 died and 153,303 were wounded.  61% of those killed were younger than 21.

1,875 are still unaccounted for.

The show concludes with “Bridge Over Troubled Water.”

After the enthusiastic standing ovation all those currently servicing, veterans and family members were asked to raise their hands and were thanked as we applauded.  Then the tone shifted as we were invited to sing along with a medley of songs.  A woman in the audience shouted, “Can we?”  The answer was an enthusiastic “Yes!”

It was a blast to sing my lungs out with songs of my youth accompanied by a rock band in an off-Broadway theatre, not caring if I was off-key occasionally because everyone else was singing and the music was so pulsating no one would have noticed.

In photo, by Evan Zimmerman, are: Pope, Becker, Yearwood, Sargent, Carter and Goodman.

Jean Smart returns to Broadway in 'Call Me Izzy'

 

The minute Jean Smart stepped onto the stage at Studio 54 the audience greeted her with enthusiastic applause.  I said to myself, She must be from television.  When I checked the Playbill after the show I found I was right.  She comes from “Hacks,” in which she played Deborah Vance, and “Designing Women,” where she played Charlene Frazier.  I’ve never seen either or even heard of the first.

The last time she was on Broadway was a quarter of a century ago in The Man Who Came to Dinner, which I saw but don’t remember her.  Theatre is obviously in her blood, though, because she ably holds the stage for 80 minutes in Jamie Wax’s one-woman play Call Me Izzy, directed by Sarna Lapine.  I do wish she had a better play for her return.

Smart portrays Isabelle Fontenot whose first battle, of many to come, is as child insisting on being called Izzy.  At 17, right out of high school, she marries Ferd Scutley, five years her senior and leaves her childhood trailer park in Mansfield, Louisiana, to settle into another with him.  It’s not long before Ferd begins beating her.  To escape, at least mentally, she writes poetry, having fallen in love with the genre in fourth grade after being chosen over the whole class to recite Joyce Kilmer’s “Trees.”

For reasons I don’t understand unless it’s that the playwright thinks it’s cute, Izzy writes her poems on the toilet seat cover using toilet paper and an eyebrow pencil.  Are we to believe there’s not a single pen or piece of paper in the trailer she can take into the bathroom with her, or that she couldn’t buy them when she does her grocery shopping?  (Sets by Mikiko Suzuki MacAdams; lighting by Donald Holder).

Eventually, though, she gets some notebooks, filling hundreds of them, she tells us, and hides them from Ferd.  It’s no spoiler to tell you what becomes of them because the play is predicable from start to finish.  Ferd discovers them and burns them. 

Along her journey Izzy has impressed people.  A high school teacher visits her shortly after she’s married, coming while Ferd is at work.  She brings a thick envelope containing a letter of recommendation and an application for a full scholarship to LSU, saying she wants Izzy to continue writing.  But as you can imagine, you-know-who isn’t about to go for that.  After seeing the envelope and reading the contents he storms out, coming back drunk.  He hurls, “like a grenade against the wall,” all the Precious Moments figurines Izzy has collected since she was a girl.  When he is through Izzy sweeps up the pieces and dumps them in the trash with the application.

“It’s alright,” she tells us, breaking the fourth wall as she has from the start to tell her story.  “I’m a married woman now.  And Ferd needs me.  And we never talk of it again.” 

Her second significant friend is a neighbor two trailers down who introduces her to the library where she gets a card and begins reading Shakespeare’s sonnets, then plays.  But doesn’t the neighbor notice the bruises or hear the beatings?  There can't be that much space between trailers that she doesn’t hear what’s going on.

Izzy will prevail, of course, although not before the beating that finally sends her packing, ending up where all the plucky runaway heroines end up, at a bus stop, heading to an unknown but surely successful future, based on all that has come before.  She vows to keep writing her poems but declares never again on (expletive) toilet paper.   

One-act plays are challenging.  They can be brilliant, like this past season’s The Picture of Dorian Gray in which Sarah Snook (another TV star, from “Succession”) took on all 26 characters in Oscar Wilde’s classic, or they can be deeply moving, like Rueben Santiago-Hudson autobiographical play, Lackawanna Blues, which had me still crying as I walked up the aisle after his long, well-deserved standing ovation.  In both of those the material as solid.  

Another hackneyed story of a battered wife triumphing over her abusive husband doesn’t cut it for me, especially one set 1989 as this one is.  That subject’s been done so many times.  I know domestic violence is still a problem but the play would have been more effective if Wax had set it 10 or 15 years earlier.  This story wouldn’t have been familiar back then.  Police reporters never wrote about domestic violence because it was considered a private matter.  I remember that as an intern at The Baltimore Sun.  

But the 70s brought the Women’s Movement to the forefront.  The 70s also featured popular made for TV movies, back in the days when television was ABC, CBS and NBC only.  These kinds of stories were regulars, usually starring a popular TV star, especially in the sweeps months (when ratings were assigned) of November, February and May.  That’s what Call Me Izzy reminded me of.  Many, many seats were empty when I was there Friday night.

  

The producers have added an additional element to the show, The Izzy Project, a social impact campaign to “extend the conversation beyond the stage” with talkbacks on a variety of subjects, such as overcoming adversity and how to recognize the warning signs of abuse.  For subjects and dates, visit https://callmeizzyplay.com/resources. https://callmeizzyplay.com/resources.

Jeremy Jordan stars in 'Floyd Collins'

 

I was disappointed by the production of Floyd Collins at Lincoln Center’s Vivian Beaumont Theater. I have wanted to see this musical since 2006 when I heard Brian Stokes Mitchell sing “How Glory Goes” on his first, self-titled, CD.  He sang it with such feeling that I got up to check the disc case to find out more about it.

I learned that the music and lyrics were by Adam Guettel and that it was from a musical called Floyd Collins, which I had not heard of.  It’s easy to understand why it was unfamiliar to me.  It premiered at Playwrights Horizons in 1996 and played for only 26 performances.  From time to time after I became aware of the show I would see it listed for performances in regional theatres but I had a long wait for it to make its Broadway debut this spring.

It wasn’t the acting and singing or the production values that disappointed me.  It was Tina Landau’s book, which made the show seem both too long and at the same time underdeveloped.  This is her second show on Broadway this season.  She wrote the book for Redwood, which was wonderfully staged but suffered with her clichéd story. 

In the case of Floyd Collins Landau, who also directs and provided new lyrics, had a real life story to work from, and one that was certainly dramatic.  In the Kentucky hills in 1925 Floyd Collins, a farmer and cave explorer, became the most famous man in the country for a time after becoming trapped 200 feet underground for 14 days in what was called Sand Cave.  His well-being and the attempts to free him not only made national news but attracted crowds at the cave’s opening as well as opportunists and other vendors who set up attractions that turned the rural area into a country fair and carnival with fireworks and balloons. 

Broadway favorite Jeremy Jordan left his role as Gatsby in that Broadway show to take a pay cut to play Floyd.  His enthusiasm for the role is obvious in his performance but enthusiasm was less obvious in the audience.  Many, many seats were empty the night I was there. 

Jordan nicely spans Floyd’s emotional journey, which is impressive since he portrays most of it from a tilted platform representing his confined condition.  (Stark set and lighting by dots and Scott Zielinski.)

Going into the cave at the start Floyd is enthusiastic.  After hollering down the opening and hearing an echo he imagines a bright future for himself.

“My losing streak is over, boy.  Gonna find my treasure underground.  This cavern’s gonna be the biggest attraction ‘round these parts and this time folks are gonna pay me to tour her wonders.  They’ll be tearing up this mountain.  They’ll be camping in the snow.”

He sings his first solo, “The Call”:

If I follow that sound,

I could find what I’m lookin’ for.

It could be glory callin’,

Callin’ me.

He retains his optimism for a few days even after his left ankle gets crushed under a huge rock, rendering him unable to escape.  His younger brother, Homer (Jason Gotay), is able to reach down to comfort him and his young sister, Nellie (singer/songwriter Lizzy McAlpine in her Broadway debut), father, Lee (Marc Kudisch), and the town folks keep vigil above ground. 

A reporter from the Louisville Courier-Journal, Skeets Miller (Taylor Trensch), comes to interview Floyd.  He’s small in size — like a mosquito, hence his name — so he is able to talk to Floyd from just above where he’s trapped and becomes emotionally involved, so much so that he eventually crawls down with a jack and crowbar, risking his own life, to try to rescue Floyd.  After his story is published interest in Floyd picks up quickly.  (In real life Miller won a Pulitzer for his coverage of the tragedy.)

By the start of the second act reporters have come from New York City, Chicago, Bowling Green, Butte, Savannah and more to report on the man “buried while still alive.”  Dressed in navy suits with matching bowler hats (costumes by Anita Yavich) they do a little syncopated dance in their zeal (dance sequences by Jon Rua). 

All the while Floyd is losing hope as the days pass until he comes to accept this is the end for him and he calls upon God: “I’m ready now, Lord.  I know I weren’t no Sunday school mama’s boy.  But faith is hoping for something, believing what you can’t see.”  Then he shouts: “I HAD FAITH ALL MY LIFE.  I want to ask you something.”

Which he does in the lovely  “How Glory Goes” in which he wonders what heaven will be like:

“Is it warm?

Is it soft against your face?

Do you feel a kind ‘a grace inside the breeze?

Will there be trees?

“Is there light?

Does it hover on the ground?

Does it shine from all around,

or just from you?”

As he continues his final exploration, this one in song and imagination, he sits up, finally free in impending death.  

“Are we ev’rywhere?

Are we anywheres at all?

Do we hear a trumpet call us

and we’re by your side?

“Will my mama be there waitin’ for me,

smilin’ like the way she does

an’ holdin’ out her arms,

an’ she calls my name?

She will hold me just the same.”

 

Miller comes on to give his final news report: “The prisoner’s body was wedged so tightly there was no longer any room at all between his chest and the cave ceiling.  A cave cricket perched on his nose, nibbling away at the tip.  The cause of death was listed as starvation and exhaustion.  The carnival at Sand Cave packed up and went home.”

Floyd finishes his song:

“Only heaven knows how glory go,

what each of us was meant to be.

In the starlight, that is what we are

I can see so far.”

He stands, walking into the open space, lifts his arms and turns in a slow circle, as if ascending into the light around him and follows it until he disappears into it as the stage lights blacken.

'Smash', mediocre TV becomes mediocre Broadway

 

Mounting a Broadway musical is an expensive proposition, in the ballpark of $25 million, and risky if it happens to be a new, untried show.  So why would producers base one on a mediocre TV series that only lasted for two seasons?  Maybe it was because all but one of the songs were already written and the story-within-a-story was developed, somewhat.  But building from mediocre doesn’t make great.  In the case of Smash at the Imperial Theater it just creates more mediocracy.  Even veteran Tony Award-winning director Susan Stroman can’t redeem it.

For me the biggest weakness is the book by Bob Martin and Rick Elice.  The theatrical show is being billed as a musical comedy (the series was more of a melodrama) but their intended laugh lines and jokes are so lame only one or two are somewhat funny but then forgotten in a minute.  The 18 energetic songs are by Marc Shaiman (music) and Scott Wittman and Shaiman (lyrics). 

For anyone who liked the TV series — Is there anyone out there?— the writers have made major changes.  The basic story is the same, a show about people trying to put on a musical about Marilyn Monroe called Bombshell.  Martin and Elice have focused on the competition over who will play Monroe to the exclusion of most of the relationships featured in the series.  They’ve made the initial choice an established Broadway diva, Ivy Lynn (Robyn Hurder), as opposed to the mid-level actress played by Megan Hilty in the series.  She’s chronically late and tempestuous to work with.

Her longtime understudy, Karen (Caroline Bowman; Katharine McPhee in the series), fills in for Ivy on her many absences.  She is equally as talented and is also dependable.  The series kept people wondering who would end up with the part.  The writers have added a third contender, Chloe (Bella Coppola), an associate director who says she’s happy to have gotten out of the competitive acting world but after she’s encouraged to sing one song, the composer, Jerry (John Behlmann), is convinced she should be cast.  Voting then goes on between Nigel (Brooks Ashmanskas,) the director, Anita (Jacqueline B. Arnold), the lead producer, and Tracy (Krysta Rodriguez), the lyricist who is married to Jerry.

The trouble with making this competition the center of the show is that none of the three characters is developed enough for us to care about.  We know little of them other than Ivy was raised by a single mother who worked two jobs to support them, Karen is always an understudy and Chloe quit her acting career.  In the series other plots were spinning.  The songwriting team, played by Broadway veterans Debra Messing (Julia)  and Christian Borle (Tom), weren’t a couple.  Tension came from Julia’s relationship with her husband, Frank (Brian D’Arcy James), a high school chemistry teacher on whom she cheated, and Tom’s search for love.  The director, called Jack (Derek Wills), was played as an overbearing perfectionist who slept with women who worked for or wanted to work for him.  In the Broadway variation Nigel is a silly wimp who never could have handled steering a Broadway musical.  

The worst change from the series is the utterly, totally and completely annoy character of Susan (Kristine Nielsen) who was hired by Ivy as an acting coach.  Dressed from head to toe in black with a black scarf wounded so tightly around her head that only her face and big glasses are seen, she looks like a religious peasant.  She hangs around rehearsals and encourages Ivy to stop cold to consult her before delivering every line, even if one of them is only a single word.   She’s meant to be a comic character but distracts big time from whatever interest you may be developing in Ivy, or the show.

What I liked: I want to give full praise to all three of the would-be Monroes, each with gorgeous voices that don’t devolve into that screeching but popular Broadway belt.  Joshua Bergasse’s choreography is sexy and sweeping (he also choreographed the series) and Alejo Vietti’s costumes are exquisite.