She's Here, and Not to be Ignored

Review: The Color Purple

Cynthia Erivo (center) and the cast of The Color Purple.

Near the end of the rafter rattling opening number of The Color Purple, protagonist Celie gives birth. In keeping with helmer John Doyle's minimalist directorial concept, actress Cynthia Erivo symbolizes this act by pulling a plain white sheet from underneath her dress and slowly, methodically folding it into the shape of a newborn in swaddling clothing. And right before our eyes, this plain white sheet becomes the living, breathing object of Celie's unconditional love thanks to the actress' unmatched level of commitment. Erivo holds this sheet as if it is sacred, staring lovingly into eyes that aren't there and conjuring up a living, breathing child through sheer force of will. This type of primal theatrical magic permeates Doyle's sensational staging, and this opening tableau gives us our first indication that Erivo's performance is one for the ages.

For those who have yet to experience The Color Purple in any of its many forms - including Alice Walker's original Pulitzer Prize-winning novel or Stephen Spielberg's Oscar-nominated film adaptation - the narrative details how the constantly abused Celie slowly learns to love herself and her life, no matter how difficult her circumstances become. The plot tackles such weighty issues as rape, domestic abuse, and the ever-present specter of racial oppression before arriving at its ultimately uplifting, life-affirming climax. Like the novel on which it is based, this adaptation deftly avoids becoming maudlin or preachy thanks to a first rate book by playwright Marsha Norman and a powerful, gospel-influenced score by Brenda Russell, Allee Willis, and Stephen Bray. Only the most stone-hearted audience members will remain unmoved by Celie's journey, and even though the story's resolution is clearly telegraphed from early on that doesn't make the denouement any less affecting when it finally occurs.

The show's original Broadway incarnation received mixed reviews, ostensibly due to the distraction of the large physical production but more likely because despite what we claim to want New York critics are generally unforgiving of new work. Thankfully director John Doyle's stripped down production is so focused on The Color Purple's powerful narrative you cannot help but recognize its raw, visceral impact. Doyle's staging is lean and muscular, conceptual in a way that draws the audience in rather than pushes them away. The simple wooden set, comprised of a few platforms and an imposing wall of chairs, feels intensely personal, as if we and the other characters have been graciously allowed into the uncharted waters of Celie's psyche. Only a few times does Doyle's direction veer into pretentiousness - his handling of the ballad "What About Love" feels particularly heavy handed, and blunts the impact of both the song and the major plot reveal that occurs immediately afterwards - but the Scottish-born director also provides the show with such a singular vision that he must be commended, even for the choices that don't quite work.

He has also found a genuine star in Erivo, whose towering performance in the central role provides this production with its heart and soul. Despite near-constant abuse by the men in her life, Erivo's Celie remains a magnificent creature with an almost regal air about her. Erivo nobly endures the many injustices foisted upon Celie and her loved ones, slowly internalizing her character's anger until it threatens to consume her. With Erivo's piercing, powerful belt voice, Celie's many solos become plaintive wails for attention, the anguished cries of a woman who doesn't know how else to express her overwhelming frustration with life. This Celie is a powder keg waiting to explode, and when she finally hits her breaking point in Act II it is both cathartic and terrifying. And yet Erivo smartly keeps an undercurrent of kind-heartedness and even optimism running throughout her performance, providing the foundation for her soul stirring rendition of the show's eleven o'clock anthem "I'm Here." Erivo is the real deal, and by all accounts the multiple standing ovations she earned at the performance I attended are a regular occurrence.

The production's other above the title star is Oscar- and Grammy-winner Jennifer Hudson, making her long-awaited Broadway debut in a performance that is both everything you might have hoped and entirely unexpected. Hudson plays Shug Avery, the free-spirited lounge singer who wheels into Celie's life and completely upends it for the better. Hudson's vocals are every bit as powerful live as they are on CD, but the most impressive thing about her handling of Shug is how often she chooses not to strong-arm her way through the musical numbers. The score provides Shug with several its most beautiful ballads, and Hudson proves her maturity as both a musician and a performer in the way she caresses and croons them. She has enough confidence to know she doesn't have to belt every note, which makes the moments when she does cut loose all the more thrilling (her rendition of "Push Da Button" will leave you breathless). It must be admitted that Hudson remains a better singer than actress, but she is nonetheless effective during her book scenes, and her refusal to rest on the laurels of her famous name and window-rattling voice is much appreciated.

Isaiah Johnson is something of a revelation in the role of Celie's abusive husband Mister. He is often the villain of the piece, although one of the many joys of The Color Purple is that it refuses to pigeonhole any of its characters. And Johnson is legitimately scary as he paces the stage, looking ready to pounce on Celie and her compatriots at any second. But from early on Johnson makes it clear that Mister's rage stems from his disgust and frustration with his own life, and he completely sells the character's emotional epiphany during "Mister's Song." Danielle Brooks is a force of nature as Sophia, who marries Celie's stepson Harpo and is the first woman to show Celie she doesn't have to blindly accept whatever injustice the men of the world dish out. Sophia's defiant anthem "Hell No" has always been a crowd pleaser, and in Brooks' hands remains one the show's musical highlights. And in the small but pivotal role of Celie's sister Nettie, Joaquina Kalukango is just about perfect.

The one misfire among the principal cast is Kyle Scatliffe as Harpo. Scatliffe seems content to let the cognitive disconnect of a man with his towering frame being dominated by much smaller women provide most of his characterization, failing to do anything with the multitudinous other possibilities the text provides him. This ends up undermining not only his character but Brooks' Sophia as well; it is extremely difficult for Sophia to provide Celie with an example of a strong woman standing up to her husband when Scatliffe's Harpo is such a wet blanket that seemingly anyone can cause him to throw in the towel. The only part of Scatliffe's performance that makes an impression is his Act II duet with Brooks, "Any Little Thing;" it's a shame the actor hasn't figured out how to bring the playful, loving confidence he displays there into other sections of the show.

But if the worst complaint that can be leveled against The Color Purple is that Scatliffe's Harpo isn't very interesting, then overall things are going extremely well. This is a powerful piece of theatre whose deeper themes and lessons are highlighted and underscored by John Doyle's simple but effective direction. He has removed anything resembling bloat and focused entirely on the emotional journey of Celie, who is a more clearly the protagonist here than in the show's original incarnation.  It helps that Doyle has the phenomenal Cynthia Erivo in the central role, with the actress providing an endlessly fascinating, superbly acted and sensationally sung take on Celie that will have you rooting for her throughout the duration of the evening. Jennifer Hudson, Danielle Brooks, and the majority of the supporting cast all provide able bodied support, and even Scatliffe's Harpo is more of a missed opportunity than an outright problem. A production of this level of polish and emotional impact is a blessing, and every theatregoer should be grateful for it.

What She Did For Love

Review: The Visit

Chita Rivera is positively captivating as the mysterious, possibly malevolent woman at the center of Kander and Ebb's The Visit.

Octogenarian Chita Rivera returns to Broadway in the final collaboration between songwriting powerhouses John Kander and the late Fred Ebb, and the resulting production is the most bizarrely fascinating new musical of the season. Thrillingly theatrical and unapologetically boundary pushing, The Visit is a dark musical fable that slowly seeps under your skin, spellbinding in its sheer audacity and brazen subversion of expectations. A fitting end to one of the most legendary partnerships in musical theatre history, John Doyle directs the piece with a sublimely chilling efficiency that highlights the many pleasures of both the show and Rivera's star turn, which is yet another jewel in her vast crown of iconic performances.

Scott Pask's gorgeously decrepit scenic design instantly sets the mood for the dark, occasionally disturbing tale that follows, which finds the mysterious and ethereal Claire Zachanassian returning to her hometown after decades abroad. Now the world's wealthiest woman, Claire arrives with a butler and two blind eunuchs in tow, only to find the formerly prosperous town in economic ruin. Having heard of her impending arrival, the townspeople have gathered to beg Claire to use some of her vast fortune to restore the town's former glory, something she agrees to do provided certain conditions are met. The wealthy benefactor's ghastly demands shock the townspeople, hitting her former lover Anton particularly close to home.

Revealing too much more about the plot would spoil the surprise, so suffice it to say that Claire is not a woman to be trifled with. The more you learn about what she's done in her time away the more appalling she appears, and yet Kander, Ebb, and bookwriter Terrance McNally treat Claire not just with understanding but also genuine compassion. She has her reasons for what she's done, and it soon becomes clear that the townsfolk are no saints either, creating an excitingly complex web of moral ambiguity that sees the audience's allegiances shifting from moment to moment. The Visit explores several hallmarks of Kander and Ebb's long career, such as the easily corruptible nature of justice, society's habitual shirking of responsibility, and an unending compassion for the victims of civilization's flawed systems even when said victims have become rather unsavory people themselves.

Musically, The Visit is glorious and intoxicatingly dark. The songs aren't as catchy as the pair's most famous compositions (sadly, Mr. Kander has not provided us with a vamp as instantly memorable as the opening measures of Cabaret's "Wilkommen" or Chicago's "All That Jazz"), but they are hauntingly beautiful and a continual auditory treat. Over the course of its long development the show has been condensed down to one act from the original two, and occasionally you can see where McNally's book scenes were cut to allow more space for the score. The reduced length ultimately works tonally and structurally for the piece - there's not quite enough material to sustain two full acts - but certain scenes and characters would benefit from a little more exploration. McNally's ability to convey a large amount of exposition clearly and concisely is rather admirable, and the fact that he squeezes in enough character moments to keep the cast at least somewhat sympathetic should be commended.

Doyle keeps everything moving along at a fast clip, displaying such a firm understanding of the show's tone and themes that you never once feel confused or disoriented even when the specific details of the plot become hard to follow. His staging is starkly beautiful, augmented by Ann Hould-Ward's costumes and Japhy Weideman's exceptional lighting design. There is a wonderful simplicity to Doyle's work that feels anything but simplistic, and the director has enough trust in his audience and the material that he never succumbs to the urge to spell things out too clearly.

The cast is first rate, anchored by Rivera in a wonderfully layered performance that draws you in from the moment she appears. Few can command a stage the way Rivera does, looking positively regal with her white gown and perfectly poised posture. Not a single gesture or facial expression is wasted, and the actress radiates a mesmerizing mixture of calculated coldness and unbridled joy that is infectious. Her original leading man, Roger Rees, has unfortunately been sidelined due to health issues, but understudy turned replacement Tom Nelis does wonderful work as Anton. In many ways The Visit is as much Anton's story as Claire's, and the two veteran performers bring a wonderful amount of nuance to their onstage relationship.

The supporting cast is just as strong, stacked with so much talent it is almost an embarrassment of riches. As the phantoms of young Claire and Anton, Michelle Veintimilla and John Riddle are fantastically otherworldly and exceedingly well matched. As Anton's wife Matilde, Mary Beth Peil convincingly charts the host of reactions her character has to arrival of Claire and the revelations about her husband's past. Matthew Deming and Chris Newcomer make for pitch perfect eunuchs, simultaneously off-putting and transfixing. And Jason Danieley is sensational as the local schoolteacher who most opposes Claire's deal, delivering a spine-tingling and heart-wrenching rendition of the soaring "The Only One" two-thirds of the way through the evening.

It took a lot of guts to produce something as unflinchingly bizarre as The Visit on Broadway, and artistically that gamble has paid off in spades. Kander and Ebb's haunting final show is a fitting summation of their long career, one which has produced some of the most enduring and important works in the musical theatre cannon. John Doyle's visually captivating production does the material justice, and Chita Rivera proves that even at 82 she's still one of the most formidable singing actresses around. Anyone looking for a boundary pushing evening at the Broadway theatre need look no further, as this is a Visit well worth making.