Porgy and Bess

Porgy and Bess, at the American Repertory Theater
Gratuitous Violins rating: ***1/2 out of ****

I've mentioned that Porgy and Bess was never high on the list of musicals I hoped to see someday, for the same reason I spent decades avoiding Fiddler on the Roof. I was afraid it would be filled with stereotypical characters and dialogue that would make me cringe.

In both cases, I'm happy to report, I was so wrong.

I can't say much about the changes made by playwright Suzan-Lori Parks to DuBose Heyward's 1935 libretto. I don't know how director Diane Paulus' version of Porgy and Bess compares with all other versions. I'm not sure whether Stephen Sondheim will like it, if he sees it. All I can say is how this production affected me - and I was captivated.

Porgy and Bess takes place in a close-knit black enclave in South Carolina in the 1930s, where many of the men make their living from the sea. In some ways the inhabitants of Catfish Row reminded me of the Jews of Anatevka - hard-working people sustained by a deep and abiding faith as they try to survive in a world that doesn't regard them as fully human.

Not only was this my first time seeing Porgy and Bess, it was also my first time hearing the beautiful Gershwin score.

When Nikki Renee Daniels, playing Clara, a fisherman's wife, came out holding an infant - yes, a real baby - to sing the lullaby "Summertime," it was mesmerizing. Joshua Henry as her husband, Jake, could not have been sweeter, taking his son in his arms to give him some fatherly advice in "A Woman is A Sometime Thing."

I have to admit, there was something about seeing a baby onstage that got to me. (Nile and Mackenzie Lee, the twins of cast member NaTasha Yvette Williams, who plays Maria, alternate.) What a bold way to say that this not about stereotypes but real people, families. How could you not get drawn in to their stories?

But what made Porgy and Bess so moving was the romance at its core. Abandoned by her lover, Crown, who flees after killing a man, the drug-addicted Bess is shunned. Porgy, a crippled beggar, is the only one who will take her in. Watching this arrangement of convenience turn into real affection was stunning.

As Porgy, Norm Lewis simply won my heart. It was my first time seeing this veteran Broadway actor and he was so endearing - dignified and generous, never pitiful. When he sings "I Got Plenty of Nothing," you know he's probably happier than he's ever been before because, of course, he does have something - the love that this lonely man never expected to enter his life.

And Audra McDonald, ravishing in the fiery red dress she's wearing when we first see her, is remarkable as the tempestuous Bess. You can tell she's struggling - to stay away from drugs and drink, to be accepted by the community that has rejected her. With Porgy, you feel like she's found happiness and a home for the first time.

Of course you don't need me to tell you that Lewis and McDonald, a four-time Tony winner, have gorgeous voices. But they're also incredibly sexy in this musical and have great chemistry together. I loved the way Bess sat on Porgy's lap during "Bess You Is My Woman Now," as they expressed their feelings for each other.

Still, for all the tenderness, Porgy and Bess doesn't shy away from presenting the seamier aspects of life and the unsavory characters lurking on Catfish Row - or the era's stultifying racism.

The tone changed markedly when the musical's two white characters, Christopher Innvar's detective and Joseph Dellger's coroner, appeared and it was startling. The black residents grow quiet and extremely deferential, even as they're treated harshly and with disdain. It was a stark example of the fear that Jim Crow instilled.

I love being surprised by an actor I've never heard of before and that happened with Phillip Boykin as Crown. The sense of menace he brought to the role was palpable. Stocky and strong - he works on the docks as a stevedore - Crown was terrifying, a bully who preys on his own people. There's one very intense scene of sexual violence that was truly scary.

And David Alan Grier brought a light touch to the flashy dope peddler Sportin' Life, who looks down on his country cousins. He tempts Bess with "happy dust" and urges her to come to New York City with him. Grier was terrific giving his own cynical view of the Bible in "It Ain't Necessarily So." And Ronald K. Brown's choreography was fun to watch.

Now, I'm not saying everything was perfect. I though Act II felt slower paced than Act I. And at first, Lewis was dragging his bad leg at such an unnatural angle that I feared he'd do permanent damage. Traditionally, Porgy gets around in a cart pulled by a goat. But here, he uses a cane. I thought it worked fine.

The set by Riccardo Hernandez is pretty bare - evoking the simple wooden shacks of poor black Southerners. There's not much more onstage than a table and chairs. It was okay in the 540-seat Loeb Drama Center but I wonder if it'll get swallowed up in the 1,300-seat Richard Rodgers Theatre when Porgy and Bess moves to Broadway.

I'd read that this production changes the musical's ending, so I checked out the Wikipedia entry afterward. If you've seen Porgy and Bess before, the change is not what you may think it is. As someone who just assumed it was part of the original work, I found it compelling.

One of my favorite moments in the musical occurs near the beginning - the rousing, spiritual-like "Leaving for the Promised Land." It's so fitting because Porgy and Bess takes place around the time of a real exodus, the migration of 2 million African-Americans from the South to the North, Midwest and West in search of a better life.

What I think Parks and Paulus have done in the end is to bring us to that point of departure, with all of its anxiety and ambivalence. Both Porgy and Bess appear changed. Yet, there's always the temptation to go back to your old, bad habits. And despite the danger in staying put, it's difficult to leave the only home you've ever known.

Porgy and Bess premiered at the Colonial Theatre in Boston in 1935. Over the decades, its depiction of black life has made many African-American theatergoers and performers uncomfortable. The Gershwin and Heyward estates requested a revised production that would address those concerns and appeal to African-American audiences.

I can only speak for myself but what I saw was a warm, sensitive and nuanced portrayal of a community. I also think that the passage of time has helped. The characters in Porgy and Bess no longer have to stand for every black person. In the hands of this incredibly talented cast they are individuals - good and bad - and fully human.

Porgy and Bess runs through Oct. 2 at the American Repertory Theater in Cambridge, Mass. Broadway previews begin Dec. 17 at the Richard Rodgers Theatre, with an opening night of Jan. 12. According to the A.R.T program, the babies appear by permission of the Office of Attorney General, Commonwealth of Massachusetts. I have no idea whether there will be babies on Broadway but I hope so.

The Scottsboro Boys and a haunting "Go Back Home"

Tonight at the Lyceum Theatre, The Scottsboro Boys concludes its too-brief Broadway run after 78 performances.

I saw the musical from a spot where I'd never sat before: the middle of the front row, right behind the conductor, Paul Masse. (Sorry again if I accidentally kicked you while I was trying to stretch my legs!)

Honestly, that seat was a little too cramped and it probably would have been better to be a little farther back. But I wouldn't trade the experience for anything.

It really struck me how lucky I was to be sitting so close when I heard "Go Back Home," a haunting, lyrical ballad that took my breath away.

I thought, I'm listening to a new song from Kander and Ebb. This is what it must have been like during Golden Age, when you hear a song performed for the first time on Broadway and you know it'll become a classic.

I hope that happens with "Go Back Home." Joshua Henry and 12-year-old Jeremy Gumbs are spellbinding and heartbreaking.

I've written about my disappointment with the musical's closing. It tells a compelling American story about nine young black men and boys unjustly accused of a crime in the 1930s South. I thought it was tuneful, powerful, thought-provoking and entertaining in the best sense of the word.

I know there's talk about a tour, or bringing the show back for a brief stint in the spring, before the Tony awards. Whether that happens or not, I hope Tony voters don't forget The Scottsboro Boys and its superb cast. I know I never will.

The Scottsboro Boys

The Scottsboro Boys, at Broadway's Lyceum Theatre
Gratuitous Violins rating: **** out of ****

It's been more than 30 years but I can still remember the first time I saw a Kander and Ebb musical, the movie version of Cabaret.

There were parts of the story, set in Berlin as the Nazis are rising to power, that made me uncomfortable. But it also made me realize that a musical could explore a serious subject while still be entertaining in the best sense of the word. Cabaret was thoughtful, tuneful and powerful.

Watching The Scottsboro Boys, the final work from songwriters John Kander and the late Fred Ebb, I felt the same way. The story of nine black teenagers falsely accused of rape in Alabama in 1931 is profound, moving and immensely entertaining musical theatre.

The Scottsboro Boys is told as a minstrel show, a format in which, traditionally, white performers in blackface would mimic African-Americans. Here, minstrelsy is turned on its head: black performers imitate white characters. And it's used not to ridicule black people but to illuminate the era's racism, which it does with chilling effectiveness.

John Cullum, celebrating the 50th anniversary of his Broadway debut, is the only white cast member. Looking like Southern gentry in his white suit and top hat, he's the interlocutor, urging the nine to sing and dance.

The ensemble numbers, like "Hey, Hey, Hey, Hey," that opens the show, were rousing and the choreography by Susan Stroman, who also directed, was thrilling.

But knowing what they represented, it made me uneasy to applaud. These were people being forced to "put on a show." And I think that was the point. The minstrel show, as hard as it was to watch sometimes, demonstrated how black men were viewed - as buffoonish objects of entertainment for white audiences.

Still, there's an important distinction in The Scottsboro Boys between how the nine are depicted when they're "performing" and how we see them when they're alone, in jail. (Beowulf Borritt's very simple set uses planks and silver-painted chairs to form cells, a courthouse and a train.)

Book writer David Thompson makes them far from stereotypes as their case winds its way through the legal system. He treats them as individuals and their stories with dignity and compassion. We learn about their lives, their hopes and fears, in a way that I found compelling.

The Scottsboro Boys focuses on Hayward Patterson, played by a spellbinding Joshua Henry. He's a proud, defiant man who won't be cowed into pleading guilty to something he didn't do. When he sang the gorgeous ballad "Go Back Home," it took my breath away.

But to me, the most heartbreaking was the youngest, Eugene Williams, portrayed with astonishing self-assurance by 12-year-old Jeremy Gumbs. His tap dance to the song "Electric Chair" was searing and nightmarish.

As Mr. Bones and Mr. Tambo, Colman Domingo and Forrest McClendon play the white characters - sheriff, guards, lawyers, the attorney general - with outrageous, hilarious exaggeration. Likewise, Christian Dante White and James T. Lane are terrific in dual roles as two of the nine - and as their female accusers.

McClendon has a memorable turn as Samuel Leibowitz, the Jewish lawyer from New York who was a tireless advocate for the Scottsboro Boys. He's wonderful in "That's Not the Way We Do Things," which cleverly points out the sometimes patronizing attitudes of Northern white liberals. (Speaking as a Northern white liberal myself, it made me chuckle.)

And just as the musical shines a light on racism, it also exposes the era's anti-Semitism. In "Financial Advice," there's a derisive reference to Jewish money paying for the defense of the Scottsboro Boys. Hard to hear, yes, but historically accurate and reflective of how Jews were viewed by white Southerners.

What The Scottsboro Boys did so well was remind me that the struggle for civil rights in this country occurred from the bottom up, sparked by ordinary black men and women who had simply had enough.

These were poor people, arrested while riding the rails to look for work in the middle of the Depression. Some of them couldn't read or write. But as the musical reveals, they left a legacy - one that stunned me and left me incredibly moved.

The Scottsboro Boys is a thoughtful, tuneful and powerful American story.