Review: MARIE AND ROSETTA Pays Tribute To A Forgotten Music Pioneer
By: Michael Dale Sep. 20, 2016
Long before the British invaded, Elvis swiveled his hips and Bill Haley rocked around the clock, the iconic vision of a rhythm and blues vocalist playing electric guitar was popularized in the 1940s by Sister Rosetta Tharpe, a gospel singer who crossed over into nightclubs with a hard-belting style that fused the secular with the sacred.
(Photo: Ahron R. Foster)
A listen to her 1944 recordings of "Down By The Riverside" and, especially, "Strange Things Happening Every Day," is all you need to understand her status as a pioneer of rock and roll, but hit records that broke barriers didn't exclude her from the indignities of segregation, so George Brant's swift and enjoyable bio-drama, MARIE AND ROSETTA takes place in the casket showroom of a funeral home, typical of the lodgings she'd endure when performing in locales with no hotels that would accept black people.
The year is 1946 and Sister Rosetta, aware that she's been losing some of her gospel fan base to more traditional singers like Mahalia Jackson, is engaged in her first rehearsal with her new protégé Marie Knight, who would perform with her for five years before branching out with a successful career on her own.
As told by the author, Tharpe discoveRed Knight as the standout member of a quartet that was opening for Jackson, and believes that the attractive young girl's innocent looks and church-style alto can help bring back those who would consider the sexual subtext of the star's hearty, growling belt to be a bit scandalous.
But that doesn't mean she wants Knight to be completely angelic, preferring that her pupil express her spirituality while figuratively putting her hips into her singing and piano playing. Tharpe doesn't want a back-up. She's looking for a co-star.
Brant's text of the one-act piece is a bit light, but the goal appears to be to say it with music, and in director Neil Pepe's production, performances of selections such as "This Train," "Rock Me," and "Up Above My Head" convey more about the relationship between the two than the spoken words.
(Photo: Ahron R. Foster)
That's because Rebecca Naomi Jones and Kecia Lewis are both fine singing actors who are giving excellent performances. While neither are doing impersonations, Lewis' Sister Rosetta captures the vocal magnetism of the original, using a blunt sense of humor to combat the everyday racism she encounters. Jones' Marie begins as a star-struck miss who nervously hides bits of her past and forces herself to expand as an artist.
Behind an upstage scrim, Felicia Collins (guitar) and Deah Harriott (piano) provide the live music (orchestrated by Jason Michael Webb) that the actors mime playing.
While a dramatic twist at the end doesn't quite land, it works as a vehicle to provide information about what happened to the two later in life.
If MARIE AND ROSETTA is somewhat lacking in storytelling, the excitement of watching Jones and Lewis whole-heartedly present a taste of their artistry is well worth a visit.
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