Eyewitness Blues: Playing It Cool

Ya know... I'm gonna give this one the benefit of the doubt.

Because it's quite possible I just didn't get Mildred Ruiz and Steven Sapp's new play Eyewitness Blues. There is certainly serious imagination at work in the text and the production supplies some impressive dashes, but if this combination of jazz, flamenco, blues, hip-hop and slam poetry telling the story of a young black jazz horn player from the Bronx comes off as rather lukewarm to this middle-aged white Upper West Sider with a bad ear for pitch, it may simply just not be for me.

I'm not saying it's a racial thing. Heck, I have no trouble getting an August Wilson play. It may be more of a jazz thing. (Please withhold the angry emails telling me there's no difference.) This is a play where the sounds of words appear more important than their meanings, with language and references chosen for their rhythms, tones and temporary emotional impact rather than their ability to sustain specific story-telling. There is interesting imagery which is nevertheless unclear. It's this lack of clarity throughout the piece that blocks my interest, but I can see some others appreciating the work for its ambiguous poetry and use of words as improvisatory notes.

Flanked by spirits of Louis Armstrong (Antoine Drye) and Miles Davis (Paul Jonathan Thompson), trumpeter Junior (Sapp) takes a breath. What happens in the next 90 minutes represents his search for inspiration in the time between that breath and the moment he places his lips on the mouthpiece and blows. Drye and Thompson retreat to to the sides and contribute incidental music (composed by themselves and Carlos Pimentel) as Junior and his muse (Ruiz) partner in a collaboration of wordplay that comes off more as verbal improvisation than literal communication. Though both are charismatic performers, sitting through their bits of name-dropping that never go anywhere (Savion Glover, Wynton Marsalis, Ken Burns...) and visits to Junior's cliche'-laden past is like hearing a jam session between two talented musicians on an off night. There's something there, but it's not fully realized.

Narelle Sissons' set has a wooden thrust with the audience on three sides of the action. Slanted, sectioned mirrors suggest an evening of self-reflection, but Talvin Wilks staging does little to utilize the space. And Heather Carson's lights frequently hit the mirrors at angles that had me shielding my eyes from the intense glare. Emilio Sosa does some nice costume work, especially for Ruiz.

Did I like Eyewitness Blues? Naw. Would you like it? Perhaps. Would I be interested in seeing something else from Sapp and Ruiz? You betcha.

I just hope they come up with a better title for the next one.