Review: The USF School of Theatre & Dance Presents the Breathtaking FUGITIVE SONGS

“Running away to get away/Ha-ha, ha-ha/You're wearing out your shoes…”  --from the song “Runnin’ Away” by Sly & the Family Stone

Make no mistake, the USF School of Theatre and Dance has done it again.  After last year’s cult hit Ride the Cyclone became the stuff of legend, I wondered if they could ever match the highs of that musical.  With their current FUGITIVE SONGS, I think they not only matched it but may have one-upped themselves.  This is one tight musical, or song cycle, featuring six incredibly talented young performers and led by a director with a sure hand.  The show only runs thru Sunday, October 6th, so if you are in the area, I recommend that you drop everything to experience it.  We’ve had quite a week or two with Hurricane Helene and now more potential storms awaiting us in the near future, so this is one trip to the theatre that will fill your soul and do you good when you need it the most.

FUGITIVE SONGS is written by the same folk who brought us the wondrous Burnt-Part Boys and Tuck Everlasting: Chris Miller (music) and Nathan Tysen (lyrics).  They have a knack for capturing a blue-collar world that is both whimsical and grounded, the sounds of heaven mixed with the realities of the everyday.  They also give us a gift of writing songs featuring such layered harmonies, and with the right cast, those vocals will soar.

This song cycle is like a group of short stories, 19 in all, focusing on the reasons to be on the run.  It seems to hold a mirror to us, the audience, and say that we’re all fugitives in one way or another, we’re all trapped and imprisoned in our own lives, either always on the run or at least dreaming of flight. 

There’s the stoner robbing a gas station that’s like something out of "Breaking Bad”: “And now he’s inside the station/I’m standin’ here like a chum/Ans I’m so super high that I can’t believe my eyes/My hand is still on the pump…/So Wilson holds up the station/The biggest f*ck-up there is/Behind the counter, there’s a girl that’s twice his size/With a gun so much bigger than his.”   

And there’s the schlub who doesn't quite fit in with the everyday grind of working at Subway: “Subs for lunch again, get me a beer and a bowl of cereal/I’ve a hunch I’m not Subway management material.”  And a duo of Patty Hearst fanatics who gleefully remember the heiress’ 1970s abduction by the SLA: “One day who’s at her Berk’ley apartment/Hippies with guns there to take her away/knock, knock, knock/Who’s there, who’s there/Patty went bad with a bang at her door.”

So many memorable and incisive songs, so many moments.  The irony is, the show is so good that you never think of fleeing the theater, of running away; you want to stay there with these fugitives forever.

And this cast, led by director Georgia Mallory Guy and music director Latoya McCormick-Hutchinson, is a dream.

The group of six cast members cannot be singled out; they are all equally outstanding.  You hear reviewers claim “there’s not a weak link in the bunch,” but that’s not a cliché; it’s certainly true here.  They are all brilliant, their vocal harmonies out of this world, goosebump time each time they open their mouths.

As Gavin, Sam Lipsey soars starting with his very first line: “I’ve burned my last great bridge.” And Alexis Andriesse is both stunning and cool as Barrett.

Adrian De La Rose is powerful as Joshua, especially in “Passing Tracy”: “But Tracy’s behind the when of every passing car…/Here comes a jeep/Here comes a bus/A line of guided missible/She must like feeding me her dust/And I must like to eat it.”

Preston Kifer pumps so much electricity in his songs as Matt.  Mr. Kifer, donning a Keith Haring tattoo on his arm, brings the difficult song “Wilson” to life, and we swear we see the action of the gas station hold-up, but of course the images he sings about are all in our heads.    

Kristin Brazzel gets to show off her acting chops in the showstopping “Lost”: “Just inhale/And the exhale/If a girl screams in the woods:/HELP!/Can someone hear her yell?  Cause this Appalachian trail is a one way trail to hell.” By song’s end, she even gets attacked by bees.

And then there’s Jalyn King. As anyone who saw Ride the Cyclone can attest, she is a force to be reckoned with.  And here, she’s thrilling to behold in every one of her numbers, especially “Spring Cleaning”:  “Say goodbye to all your dysfunctions/Say goodbye and try to flip the mattress/This bedroom can no longer fit the two/And maybe while I’m at it/Since I’m throwing all the junk out/Maybe while I’m at it/Looks like I’m getting rid of you.” She hits a note in the song that I still can’t get over; it’s like watching a sculptor or a brain surgeon and wondering, “How do they do that?”  That’s how I feel when I hear Jalyn King sing.

Latoya McCormick-Hutchinson makes magic come alive with these singers.  And her band is first rate: Jordan Gibson on the violin, Alex Braman on the bas, Dominic Cintron on acoustic guitar, Alex Truver on electric guitar, and Chris Bracco on the drums.  The music is like a weird melding of bluegrass and pop, sprinkled with a dash of music theatre and a dollop of gospel. 

Chad Owens lighting design does quite well (never overwhelming the actors), and DJ Pike’s scene design (a giant wooden wall, almost like lumbering gallows) works.  Ben Jones sound design never missed a beat; it was tight without the sound of mics ever dropping out, a situation that has cursed professional groups in our area (I won’t single out which ones…you’ll have to go to a St. Pete park to find the answer).

Best of all is Georgia Mallory Guy’s direction.  This is one of the most fluid productions I have ever seen.  The cast never missed a beat; it was a totally engaging 90 minutes.  These six actors move around constantly; if we look at them as chess pieces, then the director has turned into a grandmaster. Brilliant work.

Projected on the back wall are fuzzy images of empty highways, cloudy skies, and rows of telephone lines that look like crucifixes adorning the road.  These might add a slight touch, but the performers are such powerhouses that it may be deemed unnecessary.    

My only qualm with the show has nothing to do with this production (except that it would be helpful if a song list was included in the program): There’s a lot going on, amazing lyrics, but sometimes we get lost in what story is what, or who’s.  And because this is a song cycle without much of a story arc, we don’t feel we are on that proverbial locomotive charging toward some kind of climax.  Also, when you read a collection of short stories, you usually put it down for a moment or two before moving onto the next one.  Here, it’s one song after another after another, and we don’t have time to pause for the beauty or the horror or the humor of the previous number. We never can be settled, to even pause for a brief breath, which may be the point.   

The last song, “One of These Nights,” is also my favorite, with its beautifully blended vocals, the entire cast separate but sounding as one, and it’s stunningly hypnotic.  But the song is not just about running away but also running toward something (“I’m leaving…I’m coming…I’m finding…I’m almost…Home”). Home, whatever “home” means to you.  That’s the last word of the musical, where comfort and security meet. Home. The opposite of being on the loose, on the lam, on the run.  Being home, being safe and finally being grounded. 

Watching FUGITIVE SONGS, and hearing those gorgeous songs, I suddenly remembered that the first music I heard from the show years ago was the studio cast recording that featured Gavin Creel, who shockingly passed away this past week at the age of 48.  (The parts seemed to be named for these cast members.)  There’s an obvious sadness in his passing, someone so young and talented who had so much more to share in his young life. But then I thought of the glories of art, where an artist—painter, musician, writer, performer--never truly dies because his or her work is left behind as a reminder that they were here, alive and sharing their gift.  And we connect with them, where our lives and their art merge, the euphoric moments amid life’s struggles.  It’s a sobering thought, but it’s also uplifting, knowing that these artists have moved so many people, even if it’s just in the collective memories of various viewers (as live theatre tends to do), that moveable feast that Hemingway referred to.  I hope the young USF performers know the immense power that they bring to their audiences with FUGITIVE SONGS.  The tears, the joys, the hope.  What it means to be alive and to always be on the run.  They certainly brought it home to me.

FUGITIVE SONGS runs thru Sunday, October 6th at the USF Theatre 2 of the Tampa Campus. And it’s FREE! Make sure to come early because once word goes out about this, the line may be long to get in.    

Photo Credit: Sorcha Augustine

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