Dialogue as Song Cue
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mspt@goldfishpublishers.com
Reviewed
2/13/04
According to the press release, Ben Tyler is “Arizona’s unofficial playwright laureate.” I assume this title can be claimed because of his consistent subjects based on the Copper State. Black Theatre Troupe has commissioned Tyler to write about a decidedly non-Arizona subject, the relationship of Big Band front man Duke Ellington with his carefully hidden though extremely talented, prolific, and openly gay songwriter Billy Strayhorn. I’ve scoured the press release thoroughly, and see nothing that notes that this premiere is a musical revue; rather, all of the press claims Sweet Thunder concentrates on their complicated relationship. Don’t be fooled, though, as Tyler’s script of this intermissionless 80 minutes is nothing but an excuse to present 22 of Strayhorn’s many great songs, including “Lush Life,” “Satin Doll,” and “Take the ‘A’ Train.” What dramatic movement there is depends on excessive exposition that is awkwardly handled. Although Sweet Thunder rumbles that it is a drama, it strikes much closer to a revue.
The opening
of this evening is symptomatic of the problems of this production. Mike
Traylor (pictured right, foreground), a talented-though-inconsistent
actor, shows why he’s never before performed in a musical, croaking
a flat rendition of “Uptown Manhattan Medical Group.” After
this awkward start, he rises from the piano and offers a performance of
Strayhorn that
is broad
and touches on every homosexual stereotype available. Rick Shipman (middle)
enters as press agent Joe Morgen, though his character arc seems to be
based solely
on exposition. Finally, Kwayne Vedrene (back) enters to
create conflict, downplaying his charismatic Duke Ellington. The two bicker
about
their estranged relationship,
with what seems to be every third sentence a cue to begin a song that sometimes
does, occasionally doesn’t, directly relate to the issue at hand.
Paul Carter Harrison’s direction is more about bringing
singers to the front and making pretty pictures for others onstage than
anything else.
With that said, once singers David J. Hemphill and Rico Burton enter the scene, playing a myriad of periphery characters, jazzy renditions of this duo’s songs make the evening tolerable. John Summer’s musical direction of John Massaro’s arrangements incorporate a solid five-person band. This process continues through the entire evening, until a sorry excuse of a crisis leads to the oddest finale I’ve seen this year. This is not an example of the type of work of which Tyler is capable.
Thom Gilseth’s basic set is a bare suggestion of a Greenwich Village rehearsal hall, while Charles Summers and Christopher Haines’ slide show brings in some great pictures of the duo, which inadvertently highlight how much Traylor looks like Strayhorn and how little Vedrene resembles Ellington. Michael J. Eddy’s lighting is strong, but Linda Benson’s costumes include good creations for the leads, and a silly conceit to have the singers switch into their various characters. Brian Burrill’s sound design is effective.
Fans of Strayhorn’s music will enjoy these impressive sets. Theatre fans hoping to gain more than a façadal overview of the tempestuous relationship between these two talented musicians would do better waiting for an A&E biography.
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