REVIEW: Passing Strange (Signature Theatre)
Preview: Glad to be back! After a few weeks off from seeing shows, it’s nice to be back in the saddle for Signature’s stunning new production of bio-punk musical Passing Strange. I’d never heard of it, much less of its writer-star Stew. When I saw that it hit Broadway in 2008 against Tony-gobbler In The Heights, I learned why. (It did win Best Book of a Musical, though). I’m starting to make a behavior of not really reading up about shows locally in the same way I do for Broadway, and I’m really glad I did for this one. Alls I knew is that it was a coming-of-age story set against the sex, drugs, and rock-and-roll atmosphere of the mid-70s. “Oh, like Almost Famous or something?” Yeah, no. It certainly wasn’t Almost Famous. In fact, this production opening this week at the Arlington house’s ark theatre, was miles beyond famous. Or, at least it should be.
Acting: An incredible ensemble performance, which says a lot given the singular nature of the narrative. The ensemble themselves give great characterizations to each role, even when they shift into new ones in the second act. Each location in Youth (Deimioni Brewington)’s story— LA, Amsterdam, and Berlin — utilizes the same four actors: Imani Branch, Alex De Bard, Michael J. Mainwaring, and Tobias A. Young. The range is on point and each iteration provided yet another unique supporting role to feast upon. While Branch and De Bard are put to use as compelling love interests, Young is particularly entertaining as the gaudy Mr. Franklin in Act I and the sadomasochistic Mr. Venus in Act II. Mainwaring is VASTLY under-utilized in this production, however. His vocal chops are shown off impressively in snippets within the first act, but his roles are much more to the side compared to the other supporting staff. I’m certainly keeping an eye on him in other local productions. Mother, played by Kara-Tameika Watkins, is seldom onstage, but her presence is noted throughout the show. Even when she’s only there in Youth’s conscious, the things she wants and the way she lives ring throughout the viewing until the loose end is resolved….which, it absolutely does, and is a highlight of Watkins’ acting. (That 15-minute or so scene in Act II makes up for the entire preceding lack of stage time.) Things approach divine when you move slightly stage right, and are blessed with the commanding and thoughtful performance of Isaac “Deacon Izzy” Bell as the Narrator. Bell’s proud and powerful vocal performance truly transcends belief. His own experience as a local musician within Dupont Brass clearly grounds him within the humble role of a grown-up Youth, and his cool-and-collected vibe snarks at the mistakes of his character’s past. The way he croons over the narrative, often breaking the walls within the show. is like a poetry slam from the mosh pit. Youth (Brewington) on the other hand, compliments Narrator’s presence so well by providing the rawer emotional core to this same story. It’s so engaging to watch the past and present gnaw at the same situation, two sides of the same story. He feels like an unfinished person. He feels like someone who truly makes mistakes and struggles with authenticity. Brewington and Bell are a hurricane of vocal and dramatic performance that one would be totally remiss to ignore. 9/10
Production: The Ark is Signature’s smallest theatre, fitting what felt like 60 people. Beyond the seats, there’s a long, narrow “stage” (more like a floor with props on it). Stage right is occupied by the band. The remaining two-thirds are for actor use, and initially, overtaken by some scattered equipment boxes. Point is: it’s small, but director Raymond O. Caldwell utilizes every single square inch. It never feels claustrophobic. The blocking is airtight, having people and things ebb and flow around the stage right when they need to. Complimenting Johnathan Dahm Robertson’s graffitied set are Kelly Colburn‘s clever use of projections and highlights that satisfyingly exercise one’s suspension of disbelief. Certain graphics on the wall blend in so well until they’re highlighted at key points within the show, and the topmost set frame contains screens (hear me out!) that are only just visible. They peek through your upper periphery enough to establish setting, but lets the actors, deftly choreographed by Tiffany Quinn, do the work. The bodies that tell the story are additionally dressed consistently by Danielle Preston, yet diverse enough to show personality. The nearly-all-black ensemble is spiky, holey, and leathery, but in different enough ways to distinguish each member of the small cast. It’s at once obscured yet vivid, and I never fell out of the hypnosis - even when I knew my belief was being suspended. I simply didn’t want it to lapse. 10/10
Book/Music: Right off the bat you get dunked in the rhythm of writer-narrator Stew and Heidi Rodewald’s richly brewed setlist. The on-stage band, musically directed by the talented Marika Countouris, emanates the soul and nurture that the story demands. The band themselves — Alec Green (guitar), Jason Wilson (bass), Angel Bethea (drums), and Marika on keys — are all a sight to behold individually, but are (perhaps unfairly!) merely moons orbiting around the galactic presence of Narrator. Though, it sure helps that Stew’s music is varied in style, genre, and prose. The material the musicians are working with is profound and infectious, enveloping me in a way most scores fall short of doing. It’s one thing for a show to be Brechtian, it’s another to bring you with it as successfully as Strange does. The live element is especially crucial to ones understanding of the piece. Its original cast recording, which is live, understood this 15 years ago and the musical direction of this production does as well. It’s something you really have to see to believe. As for the story, it’s wonderfully crafted. My initial reservations about it riffing on Almost Famous were, frankly, unfounded. While viewers might perceive it as a basic coming-of-age story, it unravels to be a showcase in vulnerability as a Black male. Youth, the teenaged version of Narrator that we follow as the protagonist, traverses the ups and downs of musician life as a musical refugee in Europe while also making dire choices; many times the wrong one, with immediate impact. This is a flawed character, one that both embraces and shatters stereotypes while forming his own path to realness. It’s a compelling and empathetic core that holds together the mental iridescence of feelings, dreams, and finding what’s “real”. 10/10
VisDev: The visual marketing at Signature is much too basic for the splendor they put into their shows. It’s a bit frustrating. The program is a punky, young Black adult with an electric guitar and neon lights. It’s sort of giving 80’s glam rock, but the vibe of the show is much grittier, much darker, and slightly older by about 10 years. This being said, it does get “Black punk rock” across pretty well. The pre-show staging is, conversely, incredible. Walking into the Ark theatre, you are greeted with a dolled-up black box, graffitied and scrawled upon to oblivion. There’s a lot of fun detail you can see either pre-show or at intermission, small scribbles with recurring lines and semi-spoilers of the show that don’t make sense out of context, band names, insults, a cross that intersects “Eat Ass” / ”Smoke Grass”. If you’ve ever been to an indie or DIY show in someone’s basement, you’ll know the vibes, which are captured excellently. In the type of space where every detail tends to be manicured, it felt authentic, helped tremendously by the intimate space where you’re never more than 20 feet from a performer. 8/10
