Once again I made the trip downtown in Washington to see a
show at the Studio Theatre here. This
was the matinee performance of Tarell Alvin McCraney’s Choir Boy on Sunday, 11 January 2015, presented in the Studio’s 225-seat
Metheny Theatre at the company’s Northwest 14th Street home in the Logan Circle
neighborhood.
Directed at Studio by Kent Gash, the founding director of
the New Studio on Broadway of New York University’s Tisch School of the Arts, the
100-minute Choir Boy was commissioned
by New York City’s Manhattan Theatre Club.
It premièred at London’s Royal Court Theatre in the Jerwood Theatre
Upstairs in September 2012 and then had its U.S. début at MTC in July
2013. McCraney’s play went on to performances
at the Alliance Theatre in Atlanta (September-October 2013), the Geffen
Playhouse in L.A. (September-October 2014), and GableStage in Coral Gables,
Florida, in January 2015; Choir Boy
will be presented at Mill Valley, California’s Marin Theatre Company in June
and the Guthrie Theater of Minneapolis in June and July. The intermissionless one-act opened at Studio
on 7 January and is scheduled to close on 22 February.
McCraney was born in 1980 in Miami, where he attended the New
World School of the Arts High School. He
went on to the Theatre School at DePaul University in Chicago where he got a
BFA in acting. He graduated from the
Yale School of Drama’s playwriting program in 2007 with the Cole Porter
Playwriting Award. He acted with the Steppenwolf Theater
Ensemble in Chicago and the Northlight Theatre in Skokie, Illinois. McCraney’s also worked with Peter
Brook and Marie-Hélène Etienne of the Bouffes du Nord in Paris. For his writing, the 34-year-old artist has
received the first Paula Vogel Playwriting Award (2007), London’s Evening Standard Award for Most
Promising Playwright (2008), the New York
Times Outstanding Playwright Award for The
Brothers Size (2009), the Steinberg Playwright Award (2009), the Windham-Campbell
Literature Prize (2013), and the MacArthur Fellowship (the “genius”
grant; 2013), among other honors. From
2009 to 2011, McCraney was the Royal Shakespeare Company’s International
Playwright in Residence; he was the Hodder Fellow at the Lewis Center for the
Arts at Princeton University in 2009 and currently holds a seven-year residency
at the New Dramatist Center in New York.
Among McCraney’s other plays are The Brother/Sister Plays trilogy:
The Brothers Size (Public Theater’s Under the Radar Festival, New
York, 2006), In The Red and Brown Water (Young Vic Theatre, London,
2008), Marcus; Or the Secret of Sweet (Public Theater, 2009); The Breach (Southern Rep Theatre, New
Orleans, 2007); Wig Out! (Vineyard Theater, New York, 2008); American Trade (Hampstead
Theatre, London, 2011); Head of Passes (Steppenwolf Theatre Company, Chicago, 2013). Studio artistic director David Muse
characterizes the “beating heart of” McCraney’s work as “language,” asserting of the playwright’s prose, “On the
page, it looks like verse. To the ear,
it sounds like music,” and Lauren
Halvorsen, Studio’s dramaturg, writes, “His work is characterized by rich emotional landscapes and lyrical,
character-driven language.” According to Muse, McCraney’s
plays focus on “the recurring theme of fitting in. Of brotherhood and its challenges,” and
Halvorsen observes that Choir Boy explores
the “friction between upholding tradition and speaking your truth.”
A coming-of-age story about
responding to human differences and to bullying by multidimensional characters
who’re bonded by the Gospel music they sing together and the common humanity we
all share, Choir Boy, set in
the present, depicts a year in the lives of a group of African-American
students at the fictional Charles R. Drew Preparatory School for Boys, a
historically black boarding school somewhere in the South, as they struggle
with questions of identity and sexuality. Pharus Jonathan Young is a bright, devoted,
and enthusiastic Drew student. At the
end of his junior year, his pride in singing the school anthem at the
graduation ceremony on the eve of the school’s 50th anniversary is marred by
the anti-gay slurs hissed at him from the auditorium by one of his schoolmates,
causing the young student-singer to stop in mid-performance.
Pharus doesn’t speak
of his sexuality—the school is essentially in denial that homosexuality might
actually exist at Drew—but as the character’s portrayed somewhat effeminately, he’s
not really hiding it, either. (Concerned
about the image set by the school’s choir “lead,” Headmaster Marrow warns Pharus
about “your wrist.” The student responds
disingenuously that it’s just a wrist, “a joint on my arm!”) The action begins when he refuses to divulge the
name of the boy who taunted him, insisting on behaving “as a Drew man should.” Even under threat of expulsion, Pharus maintains
that this would be a breach of the student’s honor code.
But Pharus also
knows that he can exact his own private revenge. Gospel music at Drew is a tradition nearly as
old as the school itself—the play, as its title intimates, is larded with
gospel singing—and that tradition is embodied in its choir, where Pharus, as Drew’s
best singer, can stand out and be different without fear. And as lead of the choir his senior year, he
has the authority to decide who can and cannot sing. At the choir’s first meeting of the new school
year, after a few pointed comments from the boy he believes humiliated him, Robert
“Bobby” Marrow III, nephew of the headmaster, Pharus flares into righteous mode
and kicks Bobby out of the gospel group.
“Choir Boy isn’t
autobiographical,” David Muse observes, “but coming from an exceptionally
talented gay writer who grew up in the South, it is clearly a deeply personal
work.”
I haven’t really sorted Choir Boy out yet—maybe by the
end of this report I’ll have some kind of handle on it—but my initial reaction left
me unimpressed. Studio has presented three other of McCraney’s plays, The
Brother/Sister Plays in 2008, 2010, and 2011, and the dramatist has a slew
of awards and prizes, but I’m underwhelmed by the dramaturgy I saw here, so I’m
either missing something (always a possibility) or he’s not as good as his rep.
Choir Boy’s set in the
present, but contends with what I’d say is a retro issue, by now even in the
black community: a gay student among the elite.
(My companions thought the play might have been set in an earlier decade
to account for this attitude; the program doesn’t state the setting.) Furthermore,
I found the whole thing contrived, set up, and artificial, including, in a rare
instance for Studio, the performances. There are two adults in the cast, and
they’re damn near caricatures; the headmaster is almost a cartoon and I’m not
sure if he’s written as one or if Marty Austin Lamar played him that way (under
Kent Gash’s guidance, of course). McCraney says of Choir Boy, “The
play itself is asking us to see that all of these young men are complex, are
full human beings, are, as a donor said the other night, ‘as complex as the
13.8 billion years of stardust that make us up.’” His point, he explains,
is that “the moment we look at any individual human as just simple plain what
we think or have been told they are, we then stop allowing their humanity” and
then Gash echoes this declaration: “There’s a line in the play: ‘We are
fearfully and marvelously made.’ Well,
that’s true. And we are many things. And the play is demanding that we reckon with
that, and acknowledge it and embrace it.”
The problem I had, though, is that I didn’t actually see that on the
stage.
I also had the feeling that, first, McCraney’d written the play around
the idea of using gospel music as a motif—there’s considerable singing, which
doesn’t seem to have much to do with the plot or the themes—so that the music
came first and the drama came second, and, further, that Gash had assembled the
cast on the basis of their singing voices over their acting abilities—singers
who could act, not actors who could sing.
Now, I should confess that I’m not a fan of gospel music. I can
appreciate the vocal harmonies, but the songs themselves don’t move me.
One reason may be, of course, that they’re Christian religious songs, so
I just don’t connect with them. As little as I feel the music contributes
to the drama, there’s a lot of it in Choir Boy, so I was at a distinct
disadvantage from the get-go. I’ll have to work out what any of this—the
music in the play and my response or lack of response to it—means in terms of
my assessment. Again, maybe that’ll
develop as I write.
The Studio’s production of Choir Boy is staged in what for all
intents and purposes is an amphitheater, giving it the kind of atmosphere of an
operating theater or an old-time lecture hall.
Jason Sherwood’s set is composed of a circular floor of multi-hued
parquet, half-encircled by a dark-paneled wall with five open doorframes. (In a couple of scenes, the doorways serve as
shower stalls, with working spray heads in what one of my grad school teachers
would call “Gee-Whizz Realism.”) Above
the doorways is a row of picture frames, but the images in them shift as the
scenes change from one school space to another, and some of the wall décor
changes as well. (The pictures in the
frames help establish the time as the present: I’m pretty sure, my questionable
eyesight notwithstanding, that in several scenes Barak Obama is depicted. Another set of photos seems to be a display
of civil rights heroes, including Martin Luther King, Jr., and Ralph
Abernathy.) Otherwise, the only scenery
that’s shifted are set pieces rolled or carried on by the actors—the beds of
Pharus and his roommate’s dorm room, the benches of the choir’s practice room;
many of the scenes have no other scenery than the constructed unit, as on an
Elizabethan stage. All in all, it was a
perfectly serviceable set which evoked a general sense of a traditional prep
school trying to hark back to the Eatons and Harrows of legend (and I went to
one of those kinds of schools in this country, too) while allowing the
spectators enough leeway to add our own details and specifics to make McCraney
and Gash’s Drew Prep an “Everyschool” (well, okay—an “Every Prep School”). Of course, when the boys get to singing, the
little circular stage works excellently as a performance space, even if the
scene is supposed to be a rehearsal or a class.
(The boys also sing in the showers at one point, putting them each in an
alcove up stage, arrayed in a semi-circle like a peculiar kind of choral
group.)
Dawn Chiang’s lighting and Kathleen Geldard’s costumes both add to the
atmosphere of a tradition-bound institution.
The play’s dress requirements are, needless to say, restricted by the
Drew uniform, a blue blazer (the group’s star ball-player wears a Drew letter
jacket), chinos, white dress shirt, and orange-and-gold striped tie. The boys’ shoes and hairdos are the only
individualized aspects of their appearances, while the adults might as well be
wearing uniforms, too, since they both had on suits—Headmaster Marrow’s was a
three-piece, of course. Like their
behavior, individuality and non-conformity in dress is not encouraged among the
boys at Drew—though Pharus is the only student whose shoes aren’t black. He alone wears tan bucks—not showy, but they
do stand out. (Bobby wears black running
shoes with blue soles—his self-assertion, I suppose.)
I still don’t know if the complaints I have with the production style
are the fault of McCraney’s script or Gash’s direction, but I’ve already said I
found Studio’s Choir Boy contrived and artificial. The formality of the setting may also have
encouraged the kind of brittle, almost presentational performance style the
cast employed, and since I don’t know either McCraney’s other plays or the
previous productions of Choir Boy, I don’t really know if that’s common
to the writer’s work or this play, or if it’s a construct of this director and
this cast. Lamar’s headmaster was so
bombastic and officious that I hardly believed he was a real person. He over-enunciated his words as if the
vocabulary was all new to him, a man out of his rhetorical depth even though
he’d been in his post for at least three years.
Marrow’s described in the Studio casting notice as “Shrewd operator when
it comes to school politics. Man with
heart who leads with tough love,” but that’s not the figure I saw Lamar project.
The other grown-up is Mr. Pendleton, a former history master at Drew
who comes out of retirement to teach a special course and oversee the
choir. Pendleton, played by Alan Wade,
is white and 60 or 70 years old, but he’s supposed to be a fervent teacher with
a surprising passion about the ’60s civil rights movement (he marched with
King, Marrow tells the boys) which leads to one shining moment of genuine anger
when the boys start tossing the label “Nigger” at one another. But Wade’s portrayal (and/or McCraney’s
writing) makes him a doddering, slightly addled old white man among the young
African Americans, trying too hard and failing.
What passes for wisdom and a Socratic attempt to encourage critical,
out-of-the-box thinking only sounds like pedagogical pap. I don’t know Wade’s work (or Lamar’s,
either), so I don’t know if this is his usual kind of performance, or if he’s
been miscast or misdirected, but if not for that single stand-out moment, I’d
have said the character was meant to be a bad comic stereotype.
McCraney was successful, at least, in differentiating the five young
students, and the actors did carve out distinct characters for them. What I can’t say, though, is that the boys
were unique or exceptional figures, more than the students in any prep school
drama on screen or stage. The fact that
they’re all gospel singers comes off more as an artificial distinction, like
the writers and artists at the school in the movie Words and Pictures
(about which I wrote on ROT on 25 July and 16 September 2014), though in
that case the writing and drawing were central to the plot. The singing in Choir Boy seems like an
add-on—and a justification for the play’s title. Given that the students were written with so
little beyond stock character traits, the actors weren’t especially motivated
to rise above clichéd performances. Even
Pharus’s supposed intelligence comes off in Jelani Alladin’s portrayal as
adolescent pedantry rather than real smarts.
He’s no Holden Caulfield and the other students—Eric Lockley’s Junior
Davis (the naïve sidekick), Jaysen Wright’s Anthony Justin “AJ” James (the open-hearted
jock), Keith Antone’s Robert “Bobby” Marrow III (the angry and privileged—and
homophobic—alpha male), and Jonathan Burke’s David Heard (the sensitive
would-be pastor—and closeted homosexual)—fare no better. They don’t give dishonest performances by any
means, but they never rise above the expected and stereotypical. Even the big “surprise” at the end isn’t such
a surprise—one of my companions said afterwards that she saw it coming early on
in the play. If they weren’t black and
gospel singers, they could be the kids in Dead Poets Society or Tea
and Sympathy (how’s that for a retro reference!), and the performances
don’t rise above the familiar roles McCraney seems to have written.
The a cappella singing is superb—which is why I feel the actors were
cast for their singing talent over their acting talent—even if I never saw the
thematic or dramatic purpose in the gospel music. That shower scene, which Chiang’s lighting
makes looks like it’s set in a chapel, is technically marvelous: a lot of
people sing in the shower, but these guys do it in five-part harmony! (The song is “Sometimes I Feel Like a
Motherless Child” and the musical direction for Choir Boy is by Darius
Smith.) But what’s its point? If gospel music is supposed to have been a
thematic underpinning to whatever McCraney wants to say with Choir Boy,
it didn’t communicate to me. Granted,
I’m ignorant about this musical tradition, but if the lyrics are supposed to
enhance the play’s ideas and points, I didn’t hear it. There’s a whole scene devoted to a discussion
of the Negro spiritual which told me a few factoids of which I wasn’t aware,
but it’s part of what I described above as Pharus’s pedantry; it didn’t reveal
anything about the boys, the school, or the issues with which they’re dealing. The cast—even Headmaster Marrow takes a turn
vocalizing—executed the gospel singing well, but it never elucidated the stuff
of the play for me.
I may be a minority of one in my opinion about Choir Boy. In the Washington Post, for instance, Celia Wren declares that “‘Choir Boy’ sings a stirring
tune” with gospel songs that “open further windows onto the tangled sweep of
American history and civics.” She calls
the Studio production “sturdy and often powerful” that “deals with themes of
major social import.” “Gash and his team
have given the work a handsome realization,” asserts Wren. “From start to finish, this play will have
you anticipating what’s next while wondering, ‘Who’s the b[a]d guy?’” asserts Washington
Informer’s D. Kevin McNeir. “If one
exists at all.”
“[T]he real power of” Choir Boy, writes
Doug Rule in MetroWeekly, “is in McCraney’s subtle, graceful and
evocative style of storytelling” for which Gash “has corralled a strong group
of young singing actors.” Thus the play reveals
“a few tear-inducing moments” as well as “plenty of gentle laughs, through
clever wordplay and a few choice cultural critiques.” “Choir Boy looks like a big hit, and it deserves to be,”
declares Washington City Paper’s Chris Klimek. In Washington Life Magazine, Chuck Conconi reports, “Kent Gash’s smooth and understated direction
allows the intensity and poignancy of McCraney’s complex script” that
demonstrates “the pessimistic truth that . . . tradition can uplift, but it can
also constrain.”
On MD Theatre Guide, Tina Ghandchilar
recommends, “If you’re in the mood to see a play filled with some hearty gospel
soulful a cappella music, Choir Boy is the show to see.” “Director Kent Gash builds a fascinating
world dense with thorny intersections of race, class, and sexuality that are
sometimes funny, sometimes uncomfortable,” writes Michael Poandl of DCMetroTheaterArts,
staging a play that’s “about forgiveness, and to this end there are moments
that are extremely moving.” The DCMTA
reviewer found the Studio production “a thought-provoking, entertaining, and
cathartic experience.” On DC Theatre
Scene, Jennifer Clements insists that “if you see one show at Studio
Theatre in 2015, let it be Choir Boy.”
Having been less than satisfied by McCraney’s earlier offerings at
Studio, Clements, the most enthusiastic reviewer among the local web writers,
pronounces that “this powerhouse of a show is the type of journey that
reverberates long after you leave the theatre,” describing the play as “nothing
short of kaleidoscopic” and “a reminder of the intrinsic potency of theatre.” She declares in the end, “It parts our lips
into smiles, it shatters our hearts to dust, and begs us to look more closely
at our fellow man. This daring play
should be required theatregoing for anyone who believes in the transformative
power of the stage.”
In the New York-based cyber press, Jennifer
Perry of Broadway World finds that “a strong ensemble cast brings [Choir
Boy] to life . . . in an excellent way,” writing that “McCraney's powerful,
plot-driven play is engaging to say the least.” Perry characterizes McCraney’s dialogue as “like
poetry ‘with a purpose,’” emphasizing that the playwright’s use of language “sets
the play apart from other popular offerings that deal with similar subject
matter,” though she complains that “Choir Boy treads . . . into
after-school special, predictable territory.”
Of the acting, the BWW reviewer says that the cast “uses McCraney’s
powerful language to establish an emotional arch worthy of attention no matter
whether one identifies with the characters’ plights or not.” On Talkin’ Broadway, Susan Berlin calls
McCraney’s play with music “riveting,” even though she observes that it’s “less a propulsive
story than a series of vignettes.” In
the performances, Berlin adds that director Gash “has created an ensemble of performers
who work as a unit while each actor manages to maintain his individuality.” A “taut, well-written play,” writes Barbara
Mackay of TheaterMania, which “unfolds through a series of short scenes,”
and in which the “most interesting thing about these five men is the way they
come together when singing.” “McCraney's
writing,” observes Mackay, “is colorful and often poetic” and “Kent Gash keeps
the action flowing quickly and smoothly.”
The TM review-writer concludes, “McCraney is a young playwright
to watch.”
The Studio Theatre in Washington, D.C., has extended its production of Tarell Alvin McCraney's 'Choir Boy' until 1 March.
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