Theatre Review: The Color Purple

Think you’ve got it rough?  Consider Celie (Kenita R. Miller), the put-upon protagonist of The Color Purple: The Musical.  Born into poverty in turn-of-the-century rural Georgia, she’s impregnated twice by her father by age 14, separated from her babies and beloved sister, and sold into marriage with the abusive Mister (Rufus Bonds Jr) for the price of a cow.  Somehow she survives four decades of suffering with the strength she learns from unlikely sources: Sofia (Felicia P. Fields), wife of her stepson Harpo (Stu James), a proud mountain of a woman whose proto-feminist anthem “Hell No!” brings down the house; and her husband’s paramour Shug Avery (Angela Robinson), a famously fallen chanteuse with whom Celie falls in love.  Celie may be “black, poor, and ugly” but through sheer willpower she works to “wear the pants” in her world and declare “I’m here”.

I’m not a fan of Alice Walker’s novel “The Color Purple” (though I liked Beloved). I’m not a fan of Steven Spielberg’s film version of the story (though I liked E.T.).  I’m not a fan of the show’s producer Oprah Winfrey (though I liked… um… Brewster Place?).  So I had no expectation that I would become so swept up in the Broadway musical currently on tour at the Bob Carr (through Sun 11/8).  Director Gary Griffin, author Marsha Norman, and composers Brenda Russell, Allee Willis, Stephen Bray succeeded in turning the sprawling episodic story into an emotionally involving experience that feels more handcrafted than manufactured -- a real rarity with page-to-stage adaptations.  Designers John Lee Beatty’s and Brian MacDevitt’s simple scenery and luminous lighting vibrantly evoke folk art traditions without falling into visual clichés, and the score (performed with a gratifyingly good-sized pit orchestra) embraces gospel, blues, and jazz flavors with a minimum soul-sapping pop sheen.

This story is stronger stuff than the trifles most musicals are made from, stuffed with violence, tragedy, and even a little lightly-referenced lesbianism (which still provoked startled gasps from some in the audience).  Amazingly, the darkness isn’t overly downplayed; the horror of Celie’s travails is stylized, but never trivialized, while still leaving room for some leavening laughter.  My inner theatre cynic saw plenty of nits to pick at: the awfully orchestrated overture; Mister’s credibility-straining conversion from monster to mench in the span of a single song; more than a couple unmemorable songs; a dismaying dramatic disconnect in the time-skipping second act. 

But I’d rather simply admit that I shed a tear or three for Celie and her “peoples”, thanks largely to the talent of this exceptional all-African-American cast.  Many of them came directly from the New York production, including leads Miller, Robinson, and Fields (who received a well-deserved Tony nomination for originating on stage Oprah’s Oscar-nominated film role).  Miller in particular, with her unconventional beauty and heartbreakingly powerful voice, commands absolute attention as few performers can.  While it may prove unsatifying for diehard fans of the dense source material, this show is a far cry from the usual tired touring warhorses (Cats, cough cough) and -- along with next year’s In the Heights and Spring Awakening -- represents the vanguard of fresh new productions coming to town.  If the Fairwinds “Broadway Across America Series” keeps this up, they may succeed in doing the inconceivable: demonstrating that theatre isn’t just for old white folks anymore.

Posted by skubersky on 11/4/2009 12:53:52 PM Permalink | Comments: 0

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