One
of the things I like about subscribing to the Signature Theatre Company’s
season is that it’s an easy way to get to see multiple works by playwrights I
don’t know. In past years, I’ve been
introduced to Will Eno, Quiara Alegría Hudes, Branden Jacobs-Jenkins, and Annie
Baker, among others. (It’s also been a
good way to catch up with writers I do know but don’t manage to see often
enough, but that’s a note for another report.)
This month was Dominique Morisseau’s turn. As with many of the others, I’d heard
Morisseau’s name; her last play in New York City, Pipeline, was presented last summer by Lincoln Center Theater. I’d never seen any of her plays, however, so
I was pleased when Morisseau was named to a Residency 5 at Signature, which
will entitle her to three productions at the Pershing Square Signature Center
over a five-year residency. The 2017-18
season has brought one of her plays to Signature’s stages; the remainder of her
work in the residency has not been scheduled, but I look forward to seeing the
plays in upcoming seasons.
Morisseau’s
first offering at Signature is Paradise
Blue, the second play of the dramatist’s three-play cycle (but the first in
the chronology of their settings), The Detroit Project. It premièred at the Williamstown Theatre
Festival in Massachusetts (where it was also developed) in 2015 with Ruben
Santiago-Hudson as the director and STC cast members Kristolyn Lloyd as Pumpkin
and Keith Randolph Smith as Corn. (Both Detroit ’67, set during the Detroit
riots of July 1967, and Skeleton Crew,
about auto-workers during the recession of 2008, the other two scripts in the series, were first staged in New
York: Public Theater, Classical Theatre of Harlem/National Black Theatre –
2013; Atlantic Theater Company – 2016, respectively.)
Paradise Blue underwent further
development at Princeton, New Jersey’s McCarter Theatre, the New York Theatre
Workshop, and New York’s Public Theater, and the TimeLine Theatre Company of Chicago
gave it a mounting in 2017; the Signature presentation is Paradise Blue’s New York City début. The play won the 2012 L. Arnold Weissberger
New Play Award and the 2015 Edgerton Foundation New Play Award. The current production, in the Signature
Center’s variable-space, black-box Romulus Linney Courtyard Theatre, started
previews on 24 April 2018 and opened on 14 May.
Diana, my theater friend, and I saw the 8 p.m. performance on Saturday,
19 May; the production is scheduled to close on 17 June (extended twice from 3
June).
Morisseau,
40, was born in Detroit to a mother from Mississippi and a father from
Haiti. She’s trained as an actor, with a
BFA in acting from the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor (which is also where
she met her husband, Jimmy “J.” Keys, a
music promoter and hip-hop musician also from Detroit, whom she married in
2013.) She began her theater career as a
performer, starting as a speaker of live poetry—which may account for some of
her writing style, which is lyrical in the vein of Tennessee Williams and
August Wilson, a model for her playwriting.
One of her roles was in a 2008 workshop staging of The Mountaintop by Katori Hall, who became a Residency 5 playwright
at Signature in 2011; she repeated her performance in The Mountaintop at the Actors Theatre of Louisville in 2013. Morisseau continues to act, but she says she
won’t appear in any of the premières of her own plays.
Finding
a dearth of roles for her at U of M, Morisseau began writing plays
herself. One of her first scripts,
written while she was still in college, was The Blackness Blues – Time to
Change the Tune (A Sister’s Story) (1998),
“a choreopoem like Ntozake Shange writes” which she also directed (as well as choreographed,
performed in, produced, and designed lights for). She returned to the Lark Play Development
Center in New York City, where she had acted in Hall’s Mountaintop in 2008, with a Playwrights of New York (PoNY)
fellowship in 2012 and ’13. She has also
worked with City University of New York’s Creative Arts Team as a Teaching
Artist. In October 2015, American Theatre included Morisseau in
its list of Top 20 Most-Produced Playwrights for the 2015-16 season at number
10 with 10 productions across the U.S. in non-profit theaters (all members of
the Theatre Communications Group, publisher of AT). (The playwright is a writer
and story editor on the Showtime cable series Shameless.)
Morisseau
writes disquieting social dramas which spotlight the African-American
experience—much the way August Wilson’s celebrated plays do. Like Wilson’s feeling for his hometown,
Morisseau has a strong affection for Detroit, “a city,” one journalist recently
observed, “that outsiders have repeatedly left for dead.” She recounts:
I thought, after reading [Wilson’s] cycle of
Pittsburgh, that the people of Pittsburgh must feel so valued after reading
this man’s work, and I wanted the people of Detroit to have an author doing the
same thing for them. . . . I love my
city, so this trilogy is also my way of spreading that love.
Paradise Blue bears some
significant similarities in theme and plot elements with August Wilson’s Jitney (see my report on Manhattan
Theatre Club’s Broadway production of Wilson’s play, posted on 24 February 2017),
which was also directed by Santiago-Hudson.
The
Washington Post reviewer Peter Marks
called Morisseau a “social observer of invigorating insight” and declared that “she
reveals a knack . . . for nuanced accounts of the travails of blue-collar men
and women and the questionable choices that illuminate their complicated lives.” Her prose combines the lyricism of her Southern
roots and the musicality of her father’s Caribbean heritage. The playwright’s mother was an elementary
school teacher and devoted to literature and the arts, so she got her daughter
into dance at her aunt’s dance company, starting her in performance, and read
her poetry, which informed the budding dramatist’s writing.
Morisseau
has said that music also plays an important role in her dramaturgy and (as
sister STC playwright Quiara Alegría
Hudes has also said—see my report on Daphne’s
Dive, posted on Rick On Theater on 29 May 2016) acknowledges
that it often informs the script she’s writing: “It’s a resource and clue to my
work, and music plays a unifier among cultural barriers.” Her husband is a musician and hip-hop artist
and she was also a dancer as a child and used to play the piano, so music is part
of the idiom of her life and art. “Music
is everything and everything is music to me,” she says.” (As you’ll soon learn, Paradise Blue is set in the world of jazz musicians and clubs in
1949 Detroit. There is considerable
music, both on record and “live,” in the production: Silver travels with a
record player and her album collection and Blue “plays” a few licks on his
trumpet when he’s alone. Original music for
the production was composed by jazz trumpeter and trombonist Kenny Rampton; Bill
Sims, Jr., is the music director for Paradise
Blue.)
Paradise Blue is a two-act play
(one intermission) set in Detroit in 1949.
The Blackbottom neighborhood, the center of African-American life in
Detroit, is slated for “urban renewal” by Albert Cobo (1893-1957; city
treasurer, 1935-50; mayor, 1950-57). Paradise
Valley, the business and entertainment district of Blackbottom, is home to many
jazz clubs, including Paradise Blue, the focus of Morisseau’s play. The great jazz artists such as Billie
Holiday, Sam Cooke, Ella Fitzgerald, Duke Ellington, Billy Eckstine, Pearl
Bailey, and Count Basie perform in the area’s clubs and boîtes—and the Linney
walls are decorated with reproductions of posters for such artists. (Blackbottom, usually spelled Black Bottom,
was totally razed by the so-called slum clearance, and never rebuilt. Mayor Cobo instead expanded Detroit’s freeway
system and built highways through the neighborhood, obliterating Paradise
Valley, the site of which can no longer even be found as all the landmarks have
disappeared. Cobo had won the mayoralty
by campaigning to halt “the Negro invasion of white neighborhoods in Detroit.”) “I knew I wanted to tell a story about how we
lost Paradise Valley . . .,” explains Morisseau. “Theatre allows you to resurrect people,
places, and communities.”
The
play is set up as a sort of flashback, though theatergoers might not spot that
(Diana didn’t). It opens on Blue (J.
Alphonse Nicholson) “playing” his trumpet alone at a mic on a dimly lit stage of
Paradise Blue, the jazz club where he and his band play. Within seconds, he mimes an action (which I
won’t specify) that, if the viewer remembers it two hours and 20 minutes later,
is a foreshadow of the play’s last moment.
Following a black-out, the lights return to normal and the action of the
play begins as Pumpkin (Kristolyn Lloyd), the club’s Cinderella and gal Friday,
is sweeping the empty bar. Corn (Keith
Randolph Smith), the piano man, and P-Sam (Francois Battiste), the
percussionist, arrive. They’re waiting
for Blue, wondering if he’s going to sell the club to the city for “slum
clearance” (“We the blight he talkin’ about,” says P-Sam.) and if he’s replaced
Joe, the bassist, who’s quit over Blue’s dictatorial management style (“My
club. My band. Ain’t nobody gettin’
solo time but me,” he proclaims).
Blue,
a gifted but haunted trumpeter and the owner of Paradise Blue, is torn
between remaining in Blackbottom with Pumpkin, his loyal girlfriend, and leaving
behind a traumatic past. It’s no
surprise that the band members want the club to remain open so they can keep
their gig. The arrival of a mysterious
woman named Silver (Simone Missick), however, stirs up curiosity and concern
and the fate of Paradise Blue comes into doubt.
After all, the joint isn’t doing
well at the box office and is about to succumb to the wrecking ball
anyway—along with the rest of the neighborhood.
Blue
is tormented by memories of his mother, strangled to death by his mentally
unbalanced father, a jazzman from whom Blue inherited both the club and his
musical chops, because he saw the devil trying to take her. He’s also on a lifelong search, according to
Corn, for “Love Supreme”—“what we call it when you hit that perfect note that
cleans your sins. Like white light
bathin’ him with mercy. It’s that part
in the music that speak directly to God, and make you ready to play with the
angels,” Corn explains. Pumpkin is
devoted to Blue, so much so that she excuses and overlooks all his angry and insensitive
behavior; she also loves to recite poetry aloud. (The playwright, who you recall performed
spoken poetry in her pre-playwriting days, has Pumpkin drawn to the verse of
Harlem Renaissance poet and playwright Georgia Douglas Johnson, 1880-1966,
because Morisseau wanted an “under-known” Black woman poet.) Blue’s intemperance makes the volatile hustler
P-Sam (because he’s “Percussionist” Sam—though he hates to be called just Sam) seem
almost reasonable, and Corn (short for Cornelius) is the older man of reason
(just as Smith’s character in Jitney,
Doub, was), except that he guesses wrong about almost everyone.
Silver,
the epitome of a noir femme, is a
disrupter and an honest-to-God black widow, having shot her husband before
arriving at Paradise Blue (which also rents rooms upstairs) from Louisiana. (Her widow’s weeds—the costumes are designed
by Clint Ramos and the ’40s-style hair and wigs are by Charles G. Lapointe—are
a cross between the Black Knight’s suit of armor and something Sleeping Beauty’s
evil stepmother might wear.) Her very
walk gives away her personality as soon as she makes her appearance
(Signature’s casting notice described it as “a meeeeaaaannnn walk”), and
she immediately captivates everyone, including Pumpkin. Morisseau’s play is really less about the
story than it is about the interaction among these denizens of Blackbottom and Paradise
Blue; the plot, what little of it there is, is the catalyst for the character
study.
Paradise Blue is Morisseau’s
(stage) take on a film noir, which fits right in with the 1949 setting and the
jazz-joint milieu. (The playwright has
said that as a child, she was “very much into mysteries” and even “tried to
write a few myself.” Since the mystery
movies of the ’40s were often noir films, that’s another likely link to the
genre for Paradise Blue.) Slinky, fatale
Silver isn’t the only noir element in the play: there’s the moody jazz score
(there’s something about a lone—and lonely—trumpet that just shouts “noir”);
the shadowy club lighting (designed by Rui Rita), the sword hanging over the
club, neighborhood, and characters; Blue’s mercurial temperament; the
undercurrents of violence and sexuality; the many unspoken secrets the
characters are hiding. There’s even a genuine
McGuffin in the guise of a pistol Pumpkin finds in Silver’s dresser drawer when
she goes snooping while changing the bed linen.
Once Pumpkin reveals the gun—and later Silver lets on she knows Pumpkin
found it and it’s produced a second time—we know it’ll be used sooner or
later. (Shades of Alfred Hitchcock—a dab
hand at the art of noir!) Like any film
noir, you know that Paradise Blue will
not end happily and no one will come out a winner.
Director
Santiago-Hudson, who also helmed Morisseau’s Skeleton Crew at ATC, has the Linney set up with audience on two
opposite sides of the runway-like stage, which runs along the short axis of the
Linney from wall to wall; the audience risers are oriented along the room’s
long axis. (Our seats were on the left
side as we entered the Linney. I’ll
orient my description as I was looking at it.) The acting area, as designed by Neil Patel,
incorporates the Paradise Blue’s bar on my right with a few café tables; the
bandstand containing P-Sam’s drum set, Corn’s piano, and the mic where Blue reaches
for that Love Supreme in the middle; the upstairs bedroom Silver rents on a
slightly raised platform on the far left; and the second-floor corridor along
the right side of the runway (the rear of the stage from my perspective). Entrances are made from “outside” the bar below
the counter (again, from my point of view) or from the “kitchen” (and the
stairs to the second floor) above it. Rui
Rita’s lights are cross-faded as the action moves from one area to another, but
no area is blacked out as characters not involved in the scene could be in one
of the other spaces, such as Silver in her room or moving along the corridor.
The
look, both in Patel’s set and in Ramos’s costumes, is befitting the 1949
setting and rundown nature of the building.
Neither the bar nor the people are doing all that well—though Blue and
the others put up a good front. (We
don’t learn much of Silver’s circumstances but she has access to money since
she’s maneuvering to buy Paradise Blue.)
Overhanging the stage is a large sign made up of light bulbs that proclaims
“PARADISE” in huge letters as if to designate an oasis in the downtrodden world
that is Blackbottom. Sound designer
Darron L West’s jazz music track, supplementing Silver’s records and Blue’s
trumpet-playing, adds to the overall period-and-milieu atmosphere.
Jazz
is a metaphor in Paradise Blue, not
the subject or the theme of the play.
But it infuses the production as it does the lives of the characters and
the life of Paradise Valley. It’s the
quintessential African-American art form, an expression, in its foundation in
improvisation and self-expression, of freedom, an outlet for creativity denied
black Americans in many other fields—and it became universally popular first at
home among white Americans then abroad.
Furthermore, jazz is largely, almost entirely, about feelings, often
exuberant when much of the rest of African-American life—as exemplified by
Blackbottom and its imminent fate—was soul-crushing. As much as jazz is symbolic of black
liberation in its spiritual sense, Blackbottom and Paradise Valley are symbols
of black entrepreneurship and economic independence. (The neighborhood was settled by African
Americans during the Great Migration to the industrial cities of the North from
the former Confederacy following Reconstruction. The migrants were fleeing the oppressive
triad of inescapable poverty, racial violence, and Jim Crow discrimination.)
There
are, though, some significant aspects of Morisseau’s plot that I couldn’t
parse. First, the struggle over who’ll
buy Blue’s club, assuming he doesn’t sell it to the city. Both Silver and P-Sam (who hit the number) have
designs on the joint—P-Sam even suggests a deal between him and Silver to sort
of double-time Blue. I don’t get
it. If Blue doesn’t sell out to the
city, Mayor-elect Cobo, when he takes office in the new year, will simply
condemn the property and seize it. No
matter who owns it after Cobo becomes mayor, the wrecking ball gets it. (The characters don’t have to know that the
area won’t be rebuilt—that’s not even relevant.) Second, Pumpkin is consistently disrespected
by Blue, which she keeps excusing, but we never see him use violence. Yet, after being his dishrag all these years,
at the very end of the play, out of nowhere I could discern, she abruptly turns
on him. What does that get her? It won’t save the club or the band. If it’s some kind of revenge for unrevealed
abuse, it isn’t in the play; if it’s not, the punishment doesn’t fit the crime.
As
usual at Signature, the acting was good.
But Morisseau laid a trap for the performers and Santiago-Hudson didn’t avoid
it. The characters aren’t clichés or
stock and they’re not really predictable, but they seem to be following a
predetermined path. They seemed
programmed and none of the actors broke the sense I had that they were all on a
railroad track that was taking them to a planned end. What I said to Diana at intermission was that
I felt as if Morisseau had started with a vision of the play’s ending (I won’t
spoil it by being specific) and went about contriving a story that led there,
essentially working backwards so that each scene would comprise a plot that took
the characters step by step to that outcome.
It isn’t character-driven or plot-driven so much as
conclusion-driven.
In
a corollary to the programmatic characters, they’re also overly consistent,
leading the actors to give, if not one-note performances, then ones in which a
single tone is dominant. As Blue,
Nicholson is either barely keeping his anger in check or lashing out. (It made me wonder why Pumpkin remains so
devoted to him—but that’s her problem.)
Missick’s Silver never lets down her air of mystery and secrecy so that
it reaches the extent that it becomes banal.
Lloyd makes Pumpkin such a Pollyanna that it’s hard to believe anyone
could miss the bad things happening all around her, seeing no threat from
Silver, who mesmerizes Pumpkin, or the violence beneath Blue’s skin. One consequence of this is that the play’s
final final moment comes out of nowhere.
As
Daub in Jitney, Smith was wise and
perspicacious, giving good guidance even if no one takes it. As Corn, he dispenses wisdom, which no one in
Paradise Blue takes, either—but his
judgment of human nature and situations is off and he keeps getting them
wrong. Nonetheless, he doles it out continuously
and neither he nor anyone else calls him on it.
Battiste’s P-Sam is like a porcupine with his quills always out, though
he never quite goes off. He makes plans
and cooks up schemes, but never sees them through. He’s always so on edge, I wondered how he
never had an aneurysm.
As
director, Santiago-Hudson doesn’t help his cast out of these monochrome
portrayals, however well the actors execute them. These are pretty big
problems, I think, but the other work, including Morisseau’s writing, is of
high enough quality to mollify the fault—though not completely overcome
it. Paradise
Blue consequently remains an artificial drama, sort of the way a video game
isn’t as authentic as a movie.
On
Show-Score, on the basis of 26 published reviews, the website gave Paradise Blue an average score of 76. Positive notices made up 85% of the total and
mixed reviews made up 15%; there were no negative notices. There were three scores of 90 at the top (Broadway World, Stage Left, and Exeunt
Magazine), followed by seven 85’s (including CurtainUp and Theater Pizzazz);
the site’s lowest rating was two 60’s (TheaterScene.net
and Variety), backed up by two 65’s (New York Times and Village Voice). My round-up
will encompass 14 reviews.
In
the New York Times, Jesse Green
commented on the names Morisseau gave her characters by quipping, “The bassist
has quit, perhaps because his name was just Joe”; the women are called Silver
and Pumpkin, “as if they were paint chips.”
Then Green added more seriously, “Everything is overripe . . . in ‘Paradise
Blue’ . . . . The names are the least of
it.” Green saw that Morisseau seemed to
want the play to center on the tormented artist—“Cost o’ bein’ colored and
gifted. Brilliant and second class make you insane” is how Corn explains
Blue’s erratic behavior—but found “that explanation, however true, isn’t
effectively dramatized.” For “a play
that features so much talk of jazz and poetry, the real estate story is the
most compelling aspect of ‘Paradise Blue.’”
Green felt that the play “so overplays its genre tropes that the
characters feel like incoherent afterthoughts. Especially in the second act, as the plot
tries to wind itself into a climax, they stop making sense.” His overall assessment of the production is:
Instead of resisting that problem, Mr.
Santiago-Hudson . . . doubles down on it. Every choice seems as extreme as possible,
from the cut of the costumes . . . to the chiaroscuro lighting . . . . The performances, too, are hot and compelling
in the way a five-alarm fire is, making you want to keep watching but also keep
your distance.
The
Timesman was especially critical of
Nicholson’s Blue, whose “intensity is especially alarming”; but the reviewer
added thar “Ms. Missick makes a stunning New York theater debut just walking
across the stage.” His final judgment was
that Paradise Blue, “despite several
years of development[,] feels like a work that merits deeper and longer
reconsideration. Though it engages
powerful ideas in a format too weak to handle them, that’s a much more
promising problem than the other way around.”
For
New York magazine/Vulture, Sara Holdren asserted at her
review’s outset that “Paradise Blue . . . is one of those plays that
feels, for the most part, powerful when you witness it, and starts to spur more
and more questions of character and logic the farther you get from it.” Holdren continued, however: “That’s not
necessarily a dire flaw.” Now, I dislike
quoting reviews at length in my reports, but New York magazine’s review-writer has penned a disquisition that
states part of her opinion in detail:
The play . . . feels fable-like. It’s got the pull of fate to it, an air of
moody melodrama that, at least in the moment, helps it gloss over questions of
strict behavioral naturalism, of real actions and real consequences, in favor
of a lively experimentation with archetypes and genre tropes. In particular, Morisseau is playing with noir,
and in Paradise Blue’s most exciting moments, she both digs into
our expectations for this kind of smoky, 1940s,
damaged-dudes-and-dangerous-dames narrative and overturns them.
Holdren
had considerable difficulty with the problematic ending of Paradise Blue (as did I) and in the final analysis, she concluded:
Paradise Blue balances somewhere
between a truthful portrait of human suffering, awakening, and transformation
in a gritty, changing city, and a genre exercise that obscures details of
justification and consequence through a glass of dark glamour. Despite the murky fun of a good noir, I prefer
the moments when, outside of archetype, I can see the play’s characters
clearly.
Despite
what I said above about quoting reviews at length, Helen Shaw of the Village Voice authored such a pungent
description of her view of Paradise Blue that
I have to share it:
The moment Silver walks through the door
of Paradise Blue’s set, we know where we really are.
We’re not just in Paradise Valley, the
legendary jazz-club strip in Detroit’s Black Bottom neighborhood. Once Silver, played with glacial grace by
Simone Missick, slinks in wearing her tight-fitting widow’s weeds, we see our
surroundings for what they are. We’ve
slipped out of the real world of 1949 and between the pages of a hard-boiled
noir. From here on in, the femmes will
be fatale, the men either lovable saps or tortured creeps, and the streets—as Raymond
Chandler would have said—will be dark with something more than night.
Shaw
had some caveats, too, however: “Morisseau’s ability to exploit the genre
applies itself unevenly. Sometimes she’s
got noir firmly in her grasp, while at other times (particularly in the final
scene), you realize that she hasn’t stage-managed all the necessary motives and
confrontations.” Of the New York
première, she said, “Still, the piece gets significantly better as it goes
along, and the production—gorgeously sound-designed by Darron L. West—has its
own swing and strut.” The Voice reviewer concluded, “When Paradise
Blue is running smoothly, it smuggles its insights onstage under cover
of pulpiness.” In the New Yorker’s “Goings On About Town”
column, the unnamed reviewer called Santiago-Hudson’s mounting a “charming and
often incisive production” which “zips along with the spirit and verve of the
music that imbues it, offering a rich slice of postwar African-American life,
not least in Neil Patel’s spot-on set and Clint Ramos’s delectable period
costumes.”
In
Time Out New York, Raven Snook
asserted, “Like the passionate music played in the 1949 Detroit jazz joint
where it’s set, Dominique Morisseau’s Paradise Blue attempts
to harmonize disparate influences.” She
named August Wilson, Tennessee Williams, and Alice Walker as recognizable
influences, but acknowledged that “the playwright’s singular voice eventually
rings out.” Snook reported that “Blue
comes off as a bit of a cipher, . . . because his decline is a metaphor for
what happened to the Motor City’s famed African-American enclave Black Bottom,
which was razed by wealthy white interests. But the supporting characters in his orbit
have much richer melodies . . . under Ruben Santiago-Hudson’s lucid direction.” The TONY
review-writer’s final analysis was that the play “has overlong riffs and isn’t as
satisfying as her Obie-winning Skeleton Crew. Yet its haunting themes are
liable to get stuck in your head.”
Frank
Scheck’s “Bottom Line” in the Hollywood
Reporter was “The language sings”
and he went on to say, “There’s a musicality to Dominique Morisseau’s new
drama, and it’s not only because the action takes place in a jazz club.” Scheck caviled, however, that “the thin
storyline takes a back seat to the rich language on display; like many a jazz
composition, Paradise Blue doesn’t cohere very well, but there
are some dazzling solos.” The HR
reviewer found the seduction of Corn by Silver “the play’s most compelling,
fully realized aspect,” complaining, “The evening’s other plot strands prove
thinner,” labeling them “forced,” “out of nowhere,” and “underdeveloped,” leading
to a “melodramatic ending that feels unconvincing.” Scheck demurred some, however, asserting that
“the play feels very much alive anyway, thanks to Morisseau’s prodigious gifts
for language and creating small moments that register with significant
emotional impact.” He lauded Santiago-Hudson’s
directing for “infusing the proceedings with vivid atmosphere” and for the “mostly
superb turns” he elicits “from the ensemble, which delivers the sort of
lived-in performances that make you forget they’re acting.” The reviewer had praise especially for
Missick’s performance (“mesmerizing”), Patel’s set design, Ramos’s costumes,
and Rampton’s score. In the end, Scheck
decided, “Paradise Blue may be an imperfect play, but it’s receiving
a nearly perfect production.“
In Variety (one of Show-Score’s
low-rated notices at 60), Marilyn Stasio, dubbing Paradise Blue a
“black-and-bluesy play,” lamented that while the real-estate background “lends
a good deal of perspective to the play, . .
it’s too bad that the playwright didn’t make it integral to her
plot-thin drama.” Stasio found, “Lacking
that kind of thematic core, the play restricts itself to being an atmospheric
but insubstantial slice of dramatic life.” The Variety reviewer reported, “In lieu
of a plot, Morisseau presents us with a cast of full-bodied characters.” On the positive side, Stasio felt that “under
the confident direction of Ruben Santiago-Hudson, the thesps have a good handle
on their characters and the creative team offers them heroic support” and
praised Patel’s set, Rita’s lighting, and West’s sound designs. Blue is Morisseau’s surrogate for the fate of
Blackbottom and Paradise Valley, Stasio explained, “But in order to be that
character, Blue needs more depth, along with a richer sense of humanity.”
Elyse Sommer of CurtainUp, noting that the
play is “a fine way to launch Morisseau’s Signature residency,” observed that
some focal aspects of Paradise Blue are “just a tad clichéd,” but added
that “Mr. Santiago-Hudson and this ensemble make them very classy classy [sic]
clichés.” Sommer found that “Santiago-Hudson
has a good feel for the special nuances in . . . Morisseau’s . . . work” and
has “fine tuned [the playwright’s distinctive voice] and the flexible Romulus
Linney Courtyard Theater has enabled him and his designers to make the audience
. . . feel immersed in” the play’s milieu.
All the actors are “excellent,” but “it’s Lloyd’s Pumpkin and Smith’s
Corn who are the most emotionally engaging characters.”
On Broadway World, Michael Dale (in one of Show-Score’s
high-scoring 90’s) proclaimed that Paradise Blue “firmly establishes
Morisseau as one of the most exciting voices to be heard at New York theatres”;
he declared her “a playwright who firmly tackles controversial issues through
realistic characters while embracing the varying linguistic tones of urban
America.” Dale acknowledged that some of
Paradise Blue’s dramaturgy “seems [a] bit familiar,” but he asserted, “Morisseau's
beautifully stylized piece embraces this, and other character depictions, as
antiquated classics and hints at the changes ahead for urban African-Americans
and in relationships between men and women.” Santiago-Hudson, the BWW reviewer
reported, “keeps the atmosphere fluid and darkly dreamy, aided considerably by
lighting designer Rui Rita and sound designer Darron L. West.”
Samuel L. Leiter, on his blog Theatre’s Leiter
Side, described Morisseau’s writing in Paradise Blue as “highly
actable and often humorous” and declared the play an “always engrossing work,
sizzlingly staged by Ruben Santiago-Hudson.”
Leiter, however, found that Paradise Blue has a “rather
conventional plot” and complained, “Things grow increasingly melodramatic . . .
and the late accumulation of developments and their contrived resolution bring
the play to an ending that, for all its shock value, is . . . hard to buy.” He concluded that the play, “absorbing as it
is, too frequently has the feel of something you’ve seen and heard before”;
however, it “proves once again that Dominique Morisseau is a playwright to
follow.”
Kenji Fujishima observed on TheaterMania, “Paradise Blue
may be set in the world of jazz, but Dominique Morisseau’s play . . . feels
less like an improvisatory jazz number than a tightly structured opera.” The “sense of freedom inherent in the most
thrilling improvisations of . . . many of the . . . jazz greats whom Morisseau’s
characters cite is lacking in Morisseau’s carefully cultivated world here”
because her “setups lead to inevitable payoffs.” Fujishima backed off a little: “To some
degree, that sense of airlessness is appropriate to a play that is largely
about people trapped, willingly or not, in particular environments and
mindsets.” But he confirmed that
Morisseau’s writing, “even at its most eloquent, can’t . . . fully escape a
touch of the schematic,” despite “the very fine actors who bring these ciphers
to vivid life.” The TM review-writer
reported that Santiago-Hudson “runs with the stylization in this production,”
but “a high level of visual and aural imagination helps Morisseau’s flawed but
worthy drama sing even when we sometimes find ourselves too conscious of the
notes she’s trying to hit.”
“Paradise Blue . . . is a dazzling fireworks
display of a play,” proclaimed Howard Miller on Talkin’ Broadway. “As with any show of pyrotechnics,” Miller
affirmed, “a few of the explosives fizzle out prematurely, but most land with .
. . kinetic energy.” Morisseau’s play is
an “ambitious work that employs a degree of hyperrealism to capture the essence
of life for both the African American community and for the individuals who are
both protected and trapped within the narrowing space over which they have
marginal control.” Nonetheless, Miller
felt that the play “could profit from another round of revision” to strengthen
some of the main plot points and pare back some of the extraneous ones. “Despite the occasional rickety bits,
however, it is quite possible to see Dominique Morisseau as the heir apparent
to August Wilson,” concluded the TB reviewer. Still, Morisseau’s “voice and style and
characterizations are decidedly her own, and there is a lot going on here that
makes us eager to see more of what this gifted playwright has in store.”
Joel Benjamin on TheaterScene.net (another low-rated
60 on Show-Score) found
that despite similarities with August Wilson’s plays, Paradise Blue doesn’t have characters “quite as well rounded as
Wilson’s and her injudicious inclusion of an over-the-top melodramatic ending
turns a dark character study—not without its charms—into something ludicrous.” Directed by “experienced, sharp-eyed/eared’
Santiago-Hudson, the “talented cast . . . expertly fills in [the] blanks” formed
by “much that is left unsaid” in Morisseau’s lines “with naturalness and energy.” Unfortunately, found Benjamin, “even . . .
these qualities can’t quite make sense of the last volatile moments of Paradise
Blue.”
On
Theater Pizzazz, Sandi Durell characterized
Paradise Blue as “finely layered” and
compared Nicholson to “a young Denzel Washington filled with powerful, aching
moments of pain.“ She felt, however, “It’s
Ruben Santiago-Hudson’s strong directorial hand that turns this cast into a
well-oiled remarkable machine that creates its own buzz, resulting in real and
truthful performances, aided by Clint Ramos’ costumes and Kenny Rampton’s jazz
infused music.”
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