Some years ago when Tony Award-winning actress (for For Colored Girls Who Have Considered Suicide When the Rainbow is Enuf (Ntozake Shange) and playwright Trezanna Beverley's voice coach suggested she listen to Mabel Mercer, the artist had not heard of the international nightclub and cabaret singing icon. A trip to the Schomburg Center for Research in Black Culture (Harlem) began a protracted period of research into Mercer's life and work. Beverley found she not only respected and admired her subject, but felt a kinship both in spirit and color. Inspired, she decided to write her own theatrical script about Mercer's life and art with the goal of playing her in a one-woman show. Her dream has been realized with Mabel Madness, a play with music that opened this week at Urban Stages and runs until March 20.
Except for the existence of the estimable Mabel Mercer Foundation created by Donald Smith, Mercer's advocate, friend, and last manager, and Elizabeth Sullivan's lovely tribute song, the lady's name has far too long been relegated to history. Mercer (1900-1984) was a shy, British-born cabaret singer and boite hostess who made her name in Paris, reluctantly fleeing to the United States at the start of World War II on a ticket provided by Marlene Dietrich. Here, she arguably midwifed a generation of America's best vocalists who, recognizing Mercer's unique qualities, emulated her phrasing and dramatic, storytelling technique. Tony Bennett, Margaret Whiting, Mel Torme, Leontyne Price, and Frank Sinatra ("Everything I learned I owe to Mabel Mercer," he once said) are among the many who have attributed Mercer with deeply affecting their performance.
As the play starts, Mercer, aware she has "lost" her voice, prepares to meet Donald Smith for a fancy dinner during which she fears he will "fire" her. By way of introduction, she sings "The Story Is My Song (The Song My Story)," an original song for the show written by Barry Levitt (music) and Peter Napolitano (lyrics). Beverly channels rather than imitates Mercer. Gestures are graceful. Rs are rolled. Time is taken, lyrics are savored. "You're my family," she says, addressing the audience, "the only family I've ever known."
We learn that Mercer's mostly absentee, teenage mother was a music hall performer who briefly tried to drum into Mabel the need for projection and enunciation, then disappeared. Beverly plays the berated child with palpable anxiety. "Grannie" took over child rearing. "You Will Wear Velvet" (Douglas Cross/George Cory) she sings as if she were her caregiver. Songs are well selected and deftly integrated. Some, like Cole Porter's "Down in the Depths on the Ninetieth Floor" are signature, while others, like "If You Leave Paris" (Bart Howard/ Ian Grant), exemplify the woman and the moment.
Unfriendly relatives had no time for the child. At this point in narrative, Beverly exhibits mercurial skill playing a drunken uncle. Other brief roles are assumed throughout. Mercer was placed in a convent where her mulatto skin and clearly different hair provoked bullying. At 14, she found herself busking on the streets.
We hear about her warm professional relationship with Ada "Bricktop" Smith (dancer, singer and self-described saloon-keeper), who apparently suggested that Mercer perform intimately from chairs at customer tables and added bounce to her peer's repertoire. Paris success includes references to Cole Porter, visiting royalty, and café society.
Arriving in America, Mercer disembarked The Queen Mary only to discover prejudice unknown to her abroad. A visit to her mother, then settled upstate, was immensely painful. There were men, straight and gay, steadfast friends, and endless smoke-filled clubs. By the time Donald Smith tracked her down, Mercer was semi-retired at her farm. He persisted until she agreed to let him revive her career, generating new adulation. Another cabaret icon Bobby Short was in need of similar tenacity in convincing her to join him onstage at The Town Hall for two legendary concerts (see video of Short and Mercer performing in a 1972 PBS-TV special, below).
Though brevity necessitates lack of detail, it serves the piece. Trezanna Beverly effectively incorporates salient points and important people. The story runs smoothly, giving us a good sense of Mercer's roots, her journey, and of the generous, self effacing performer herself. Characterization is imbued with sensitivity and sympathy. Songs capture the subject.
The play is Co-Directed with great naturalness by Urban Stages Founder and Artistic Director, Frances Hill, and its Director of Musical Theater/Associate Producer, Peter Napolitano, who additionally contributes lyrics to two original songs with composer Barry Levitt. Musical Director Tuffus Zimbabwe does an adroit job.
Scenic Designer Tabitha Pease's set that includes half-unpacked trunks and suitcases, a café table, and the kind of chair from which Mercer increasingly performed creates atmosphere. Well-chosen video projections (Nicholas Blade Guldner) give us glimpses of pivotal people in Mercer's life. Gail Cooper-Hecht's Costume Design--mostly things Mabel pulls from her trunks--seem spot on, as does Mabel's dinner apparel. Beverly, however, performs in a pants set (Did Mercer ever wear pants?).
After Wednesday evening's show there was a talkback featuring performer/songwriter Ronny Whyte. As a young, aspiring musician, Whyte had not been impressed with the artist's recordings. Then, at 19, he went to see her. "She was everything my drama and voice teachers talked about and I cried all the way home." They became friends.
Though Mercer stimulated a great many audience tears, she is said to have cried only once onstage, upon performing "The Last Time I Saw Paris" (Cole Porter). Paris had been her refuge, her blossoming, and her home. She never sang the song in public again. Asked about this, we're told she said, "My dear, I never cry. It's for you. It's all about you."
Mabel Madness at Urban Stages: 259 West 30th Street, between 7th and 8th Avenue. Phone: 212-421-1380. For tickets go to: http://urbanstages.org/mabel-madness
Performance Photos by Tanja Hayes Photos
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