"The Color Purple": Epic to a Fault

SHOW INFORMATION: Through May 18.  Tues – Sat at 8PM, Sat at 2PM, Sun at 1PM and 6:30PM.  Tickets $34.00 - $125.00, plus fees.  410-547-SEAT or www.broadwayacrossamerica.com

 

◊◊◊ out of five.  2 hours, 45 minutes, including intermission.  Adult language, sexuality and situations.

 

The Color Purple, which opened this week at Baltimore's Hippodrome Theatre, in many ways lives up to its hype as the cornerstone of the 2007-2008 season.  It is big – 33 cast members, huge amounts of scenery, it is pretty to look at – beautiful lights, drops and costumes, and it features some incredible talent – namely its lead, and four supporting characters (two of which were understudies on opening night).  But in a musical that spans decades and is almost entirely sung, it seems odd that its best moments are the few given over to the book scenes by Pulitzer Prize winner Marsha Norman.  The truth is, the musical version, likely in an attempt to justify adding music to an already beautiful story (and beloved film), has overwhelmed a small, personal story.  So it is big – Oprah in scale big – but to the detriment of the emotional impact of the story. 

Personally, I don't like it when a show tells you what to think or feel.  And in a lot of ways, The Color Purple does just that – button pushing is the order of the day.  When we are supposed to be moved spiritually, we don't just get a church scene, we get a tent revival ("Mysterious Ways") complete with call and response from the audience, intended or not.  And yet, in act two we are much more effectively moved by the Spirit in Shug Avery's act two solo, "The Color Purple."  (In fact, it is the lone quiet musical moment of the evening.)  When we are supposed to root against a character, like the evil Mister, we know he isn't just bad, he is BAD "Big Dog," sung by him and his field hands.  When we are supposed to root for a character, they are attached to a comedy bit with melodramatic gestures and a repeated punch line, like Sofia's big entrance number, "Hell No."  And when a key character makes her entrance, she gets a number to rival Mame or Dolly Levi in "Shug Avery Comin' to Town."  The difference here, though, is that for all of the pomp and circumstance her entrance is a decided let down.  But the biggest problem with the score written by Brenda Russell, Allee Willis and Stephen Bray (too many chefs not enough sauce?) is that by making every number huge (whether it is a solo ballad or a group jazz-stomp number) the impact of any single moment is brought down to nearly nothing.  Similarly, with everything at the same pitch, even the variety of song types, ranging from gospel to funk (yes, 70's style funk) goes unnoticed as the fever pitch of the music blurs by. 

The staging by Gary Griffin and choreography by Donald Byrd is alternately interesting and fussy, sometimes amounting to the dancers running to a place, dancing, and running off.  When the dancing is good, it is excellent ("Push Da Button").  When it is bad, it is excessive or unnecessary ("African Homeland").  Similarly, the staging has moments of exciting theatricality (the sequence by which Mister acquires Celie as his wife or Celie's final realization about herself, "I'm Here").  But other times it is a touch too stagy or messy (any scenes that take place on the far sides of the proscenium, which, at the Hippodrome, leaves about a third of the orchestra section unable to fully see it, or any scenes with the three busy body "Church Ladies").  The entire production could have an eraser taken to at least a half hour of it, and someone should have thought about the subtlety and grace of its source material. 

That said, who am I to argue the savvy behind many of its heart-on-its-sleeves charms?  I mean, let's face it.  In a post Les Miz/American Idol frenzied world, emotional moments sung by a huge cast, motionless, facing the audience, mics cranked to the hilt equals audience euphoria, right?  Add some histrionic riffing of long-held notes, and you've earned the "I know that's right!" bellows of audience members so moved as to yell at the stage like it is a TV set.  And add just enough titillating language and sexy stuff, and you have an audience thinking they are seeing daring theatre.  I will admit to being mystified as to the reaction of the kiss and subsequent relationship between Celie and Shug Avery.  No one saw that coming?  Please. 

What makes the show worth seeing in spite of its flaws and higher than Broadway top ticket price, is its largely winning cast, who are good despite what they are forced to do.  The ensemble does wonderful work throughout. Man, they must be exhausted after a performance!   

In the role of Sofia, made famous by Ms. Winfrey, original Broadway cast member Felicia P. Fields is a definite crowd pleaser, with her raucous delivery and no-nonsense approach to living.  She milks every sentiment for all its worth (frankly, after so long an attachment to the role, she verges on shtick), but wisely pulls way back after a severe beating leaves Sofia palsied and sick, allowing us to bring some of our own emotion to the piece.  Drawn just as broadly is the evil character of Mister, played to the hilt by Rufus Bonds, Jr., who still manages to make the role more than just a Simon Legree knockoff.  With Mr. Bonds, it is the small things that make his character – the ticks, the handling of a riding crop – the meanest, and conversely, it is the subtle humility that he finds in the character which makes his late in life transformation more believable than the plot contrivance it really is. 

Two of the strongest performances on opening night were by understudies in the key roles of Nettie and Harpo, played wonderfully by LaTonya Holmes and Rhett George, respectively.  Ms. Holmes' broad, sweet smile will melt your heart, and you have no trouble believing the immeasurable amount of love she has for her sister.  She also has a lovely voice and wonderful presence.  Similarly, Mr. George has an amazing presence and more than holds his own in several scenes with his "wife" Sofia.  His greatest moments by far are when Harpo stands up for himself. 

Angela Robinson is a sleek and sexy Shug Avery, and it is her slightly lower key attack on the character that lets the role insinuate itself into your subconscious rather than slap you across the face for all of its outward bravado.  What really makes her performance noteworthy is her rendition of "The Color Purple" and the palpable chemistry between she and Mr. Bonds and her co-star playing Celie, Jeannette Bayardelle. 

Ms. Bayardelle is nothing less than wonderful as Celie.  She can play broad, low key and any combination of the two.  Yes, the plot is designed to make us instantly care about Celie, the ugly child with the heart too big for her own good, but the actress draws us even closer her less obvious charms and charisma.  When her Celie is finally happy and we see a huge toothy smile grow on her face, we are all happy right along with her.  And taken by itself, her act two aria of self-realization, "I'm Here," is brilliant in its intensity and exuberance. 

Unfortunately, it gets all but swallowed up in the build up to it, just as the final emotional moments of the show are a let down.  One can only stay so emotionally involved at such a high level for nearly three hours.  Perhaps that is why, during the crush to exit, patrons all around were saying the same thing I was thinking: "I liked it, but I thought I'd like it a lot more."

 

PHOTOS by Paul Kolnik of The Color Purple First National Tour.  Top: The Ensemble, with Rufus Bonds, Jr. and Angela Robinson center; BOTTOM: Jeannette Bayardelle (left) and LaToya London (not reviewed – right).

 

To post a comment, you must register and login.