Review: Stew and Heidi Rodewald Preach On Black Music For White Audiences in THE TOTAL BENT

"God does not judge us by the separate incidents or the separate mistakes that we make, but by the total bent of our lives," preached The Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. in his sermon on the subject of "Unfulfilled Dreams," delivered at Ebenezer Baptist Church in Atlanta, Georgia, on March 3rd, 1968.

Or, as sung by one of the main characters in the opening song of Stew and Heidi Rodewald's new musical, THE TOTAL BENT, "I did some f***ed up s***, but he forgot about it... That's why he's Jesus and you're not, whitey."

The terrific Vondie Curtis Hall plays the seductively slithering gospel singing preacher and faith healer Papa Joe Roy, who sings those sentiments at a Montgomery, Alabama recording studio sometime during the 1960s.

The song was written by his son, Marty (Ato Blankson-Wood), and Papa Joe is not especially comfortable with the inclusion of the word "whitey" eleven times.

"Twelve," says Marty, correcting him. "One for every apostle."

Papa Joe has made a comfortable living singing black gospel in a manner that doesn't alienate the mainstream white audience, but he's afraid his son's artistry is heading in a dangerous direction.

"His songs used to fit me like silk jackets," Papa Joe tells the audience. "Now they like straightjackets. And whoever sing 'em gon' need a bullet proof jacket!"

As with their previous Public Theater entry, PASSING STRANGE, which transferred to Broadway in 2008, Rodewald and Stew collaborate on THE TOTAL BENT's music while the latter pens the book and lyrics. Both play in the onstage band that chimes in with the occasional line.

Both Marty and Papa Joe are signed by a white British music producer, played with a droll music hall delivery by David Cale. He packages Marty as an androgynous glam-pop star. The musical's funniest, most entertaining moment comes when Marty and his backups sing "Christian Entertainment," with a literal lyric that describes the basic formula of repeating phrases and making familiar physical gestures. It's the type of (white) crowd-pleasing performance that has Rolling Stone calling him "an electric Uncle Tom."

Stew won a Tony for PASSING STRANGE's book, but the story gets fuzzy in this one, which, after establishing its themes, evolves into more of a concert with a thin narrative. As directed by Joanna Settle, this keenly-performed premiere production displays the piece as an enjoyable work in progress with high potential.

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