Stephen Sondheim on Porgy and Bess

I've never seen Porgy and Bess. I'm not even sure I've ever heard any of the songs. So the objections raised by Stephen Sondheim to changes in the upcoming production go over my head.

In fact, some of the things that have gotten stuck in his craw are downright perplexing. In his letter to The New York Times, Sondheim says that the line "Bring my goat!" which apparently has been taken out, is "one of the most moving moments in musical theater history." Really?

To be honest, Porgy and Bess was on a list of works I had no interest in ever seeing. I knew it took place in a poor black community in South Carolina in the 1930s and I figured it would be a stereotypical portrait. The song titles made me cringe: "Oh, Dere's Somebody Knockin at de Do," "Here Come de Honey Man," "I Ain't Got No Shame." I could go on but you get the point.

Despite my reservations, I bought a ticket to see Porgy and Bess at the American Repertory Theater in Cambridge, Mass., later this month, in its pre-Broadway engagement.

What made me change my mind was Audra McDonald, the four-time Tony winner who'll play Bess. I have enormous respect for McDonald. I figure if she's signed on, then I would give it a chance.

And I was glad to read the article in The Times that drew Sondheim's attention, in which representatives of the Gershwin and Heyward estates express their desire for a version of Porgy and Bess that would draw African-American theatergoers.

So it shocked me to read Sondheim's letter excoriating McDonald, director Diane Paulus and Suzan-Lori Parks, a Pulitzer Prize-winning African-American playwright who is adapting the book for the musical. To be frank, it's a bit unseemly for someone of Sondheim's stature to come down so hard before the first preview. With great power comes great responsibility.

The sniping at McDonald seems especially petty. She has been a fierce advocate for gay rights, for which she is rightly praised. So when she speaks as an African-American woman about her concerns with racism in Porgy and Bess, she deserves to be treated with respect.

I understand that Sondheim is speaking from the perspective of a musical theatre purist who has a great love for Porgy and Bess. But instead of calling out the largely African-American performers and creative team for their "arrogance" I wish he'd at least consider the viewpoint of African-Americans toward this work. It doesn't even seem to have entered his mind.

In an article in The Boston Globe, the performers and creative team talk about the work and about the importance of adapting it for a modern audience.

McDonald said that while she's performed songs from Porgy and Bess in concert, she's been reluctant to play Bess onstage. She mentions the "Sambo-type racist talk" that bothered her. “I want them to be real people in the way that Lorraine Hansberry was able to lift the shade and [let] everybody peer into a real American family with ‘Raisin in the Sun.’ ’’

Parks said the song “I Got Plenty o’ Nuttin’ ’’ “has stuck in the craw of many a folk, because people have interpreted it as the happy darky song: There he is, out of nowhere, for no reason, singin’ about how he ain’t got nothin’ and how that makes him happy.’’

Philip Boykin, who plays Crown, says: “There are things I’ve done in the opera ‘Porgy and Bess’ that I’ve hated for years. I’ve hated the lines.’’ But with Parks willing to hear suggestions, he’s been able to ditch some of them. “I just love it,’’ he said. “I love it, love it, love it, love it, love it.’’

I'll admit I'm not a purist. If somebody wants to remake my favorite movie, Casablanca, and have (spoiler alert!) Ilsa stay with Rick at the end, I'd say, "that sounds interesting." As far as I know Porgy and Bess did not come down from God at Mount Sinai, delivered into the arms of George Gershwin and DuBose Heyward. (And this idea that a work is sacrosanct, that it can never be reinterpreted or altered, isn't that how a lot of people feel about the Bible?)

The Globe article notes "what has been the greatest obstacle for Porgy and Bess over the decades: the perception that this depiction of a black community in the American South, written in dialect by whites, is a racist work."

No one wants to make Porgy and Bess unrecognizable. But there's a difference between making an audience confront its prejudices, no matter how uncomfortable that may be, and making them comfortable in their prejudices.

If we can make the portrayal of black people in the 1930s less offensive, if we can make black audiences feel welcome and performers more comfortable, while still retaining the elements that everyone says make Porgy and Bess a great work, then why not? Or at least, why not try?

Hair today, gone tomorrow

The show in which I made my Broadway debut - Hair - is closing today at the Al Hirschfeld Theatre after 548 performances and a Tony for Best Revival of a Musical.

I wish it could have run longer but one thing I've learned, except for The Phantom of the Opera nothing lasts forever.

I love the songs from Hair, I saw the movie in 1979 and I caught a touring production once in Syracuse, years ago.

But this revival, directed by Diane Paulus, is the one that truly got to me. I love the way it evoked the be-who-you-are spirit of the 1960s while not ignoring the more tumultuous events. Here's my review.

Inviting the audience onstage at the end of the show was a perfect way to celebrate a decade that was all about breaking down barriers. It was a thrilling experience and I'm happy I could share it with Kevin, my friend and fellow blogger.

(And how great was it that the cast of Hair were such strong supporters of marriage equality, bringing forward the decade's commitment to freedom and social justice.)

Paulus could have turned Hair into an exercise in hippie nostalgia - a look back at a time of sexual liberation, when young people dropped out, got stoned, wore tie-dyed shirts and bell bottom trousers and men grew their hair long.

Instead, she made the story relevant and compelling by keeping the focus on the most divisive and politically charged aspect of the decade - the Vietnam War.

Through Gavin Creel's terrific portrayal of the conflicted Claude, the musical brought home the difficult choices young men faced. Young men, that is, who weren't as fortunate as Dick Cheney or Richard Blumenthal.

For me, more than the fashions and hairstyles, Claude's plight was a stark reminder of how much has changed.

There was an article last week in The New York Times that pointed out, America's "all-volunteer military continues to fight two wars that the vast majority of American society pays little or no attention to."

Forty years ago, at the height of protests against Vietnam, that detachment would have been inconceivable.

I saw Hair on Memorial Day weekend in 2009. It's a powerful reminder of the care we should take before sending Americans into harm's way, whether they're draftees or volunteers, our loved ones or someone else's.

While Hair is closing on Broadway, a national tour begins this fall. I am so glad I had a chance to see it.

Red Sox musical, an update

I've gotten a dozen or so hits (pun intended) recently from people searching for information about the Boston Red Sox musical in the lineup at Cambridge's American Repertory Theater.

So I figure with spring training just around the corner, it's time for an update.

The musical begins previews May 14 and runs through June 27 at the Loeb Drama Center. When I first wrote about the show, it was called Red Sox Nation. The name's been changed to Johnny Baseball. (I like the old name better but sadly, no one asked for my opinion.)

The story, described as "an exhilarating blend of fact, fiction and the mystical power of the game," spans the years from 1919 to 2004, when the Red Sox broke the Curse of the Bambino to win the World Series after an 86-year drought.

At its heart is a romance between white baseball player Johnny O'Brien, a hard-luck right-hander on the 1919 Sox, and Daisy Wyatt, a dazzling black jazz singer. Their son is kept out of the major leagues because of his skin color. (The Red Sox were the last team to integrate.)

The creative team is the same: playwright Richard Dresser, who penned the Beach Boys jukebox musical Good Vibrations, is writing the book. Music and lyrics are by brothers Robert Reale and Willie Reale, who collaborated on the score for A Year with Frog and Toad.

Robert Reale said this week on Twitter that auditions have wrapped up and they've made several casting offers. Scott Pask is designing the set. Also on board are lighting designer Donald Holder and costume designer Michael McDonald.

There's an extensive interview with the Dresser and the Reale brothers on the A.R.T. Web site. Clearly, big themes are in play here.

"One of the things that drew us to this project was the idea that this whole region of the country was following this one team so closely and getting consistently defeated in these inspired, tragic ways," Dresser says. "In fact, we always spoke about this musical as a kind of Greek tragedy."

I like the combination of baseball lore, American history and love story. It's encouraging that Diane Paulus, the A.R.T's artistic director, will be directing the musical. She helmed the Tony-winning Broadway revival of Hair, one of my favorite shows of 2009.

Here's a clip of Paulus talking about the show when it was still called Red Sox Nation:



Update: The cast has been announced and it includes Stephanie Umoh, who was in the short-lived Ragtime revival on Broadway, as Daisy Wyatt; Colin Donnell as Johnny O'Brien; and Burke Moses as Babe Ruth.