One would think that a
musical inspired by blaxploitation films and titled Dial ‘N’ for Negress would have more of a determinedly goofy vibe
than the lugubrious show now playing at Theater Row.
Just out of jail in 1974,
Br’er Negress (Kevin Smith Kirkwood) wants to clean up Soulsville and get his
fellow citizens off of crack. Joined by former hookers White Mama (Emily
McNamara, the evening’s sole bright spot) and Black Mama (Pilin Anice), Negress
takes on a swaggering pimp (J. Cameron Barnett), the gay mafia and eventually
engages in a climactic dance off with a corrupt white cop (Eric Roediger) that
involves the funky chicken and stirring-a-cake (the wedding cliché-heavy
choreography is from Jennifer L. Mudge).
Co-created by Kirkwood, who
also co-wrote the music, Dial ‘N’ for
Negress is, to put it bluntly, a hot mess. Kirkwood swishes, prances,
minces, pops his eyes and snaps his fingers with all the élan of a contestant
on RuPaul’s Drag Race, but gets
decidedly prickly when anyone assumes he’s gay from his mannerisms and
flamboyant, feathery outfits. He will not have anyone impugning his manhood,
despite coming across as gayer than the members of Soulsville’s resident gay
mafia.
Even worse, Kirkwood and
bookwriter Travis Kramer have grafted delusions of grandeur onto their flimsy
idea. Not content to write a spoof, they’ve shoehorned in social issues that
ring as off-key as the unmemorable songs. Written to represent black men who
aren’t hyper-masculine á la Shaft and for people who are under-represented in
musical theater, Dial ‘N’ for Negress
instead presents an effeminate man who seems outraged that anyone would mistake
him for a homosexual, along with a slew of African-American characters who are
either bellowing preachers, reformed hookers or recovering junkies.
Uptown, Blind Lemon Blues features an all
African-American cast in a very different show. A classy jukebox musical about
1920s blues singer Blind Lemon Jefferson, Blind
Lemon Blues has crammed 60 songs from Blind Lemon and his contemporaries
into a flimsy plot about his life. The overwhelming amount of musical numbers
would normally be welcome when a musical’s book is as terrible as the one Alan
Govenar and Akin Babatunde (who also directs, choreographs and stars) have
given us, but no one involved has bothered to remove the applause buttons at
the songs’ ends, which threatens to drag out the already prolonged running
time.
Even the songs aren’t quite
free from pretentiousness. Re-arranged by Babatunde, Carl Yarbrough and Alisa
Peoples Yarbrough, the freewheeling blues are now hampered with the trappings
of art songs. Gone is the spontaneity that has kept them fresh and relevant for
the last 80 years, replaced with an American-Idol-group-number precision that sucks
the air out of the room.
The show’s best moments
come when Blind Lemon’s contemporaries take the stage for their showstoppers.
Freed from the task of furthering the action, songs like Bessie Tucker’s
“Butcher Shop Blues” have a raucous, libidinous quality that’s missing from
most of the show.
Those numbers also work
because the actors aren’t forced into the “choreographed movement” that mars so
many of the other songs. The performers seem to breathe a sigh of relief as
they break free from the confines of choral work and strut their stuff. Inga
Ballard and Alisa Peoples Miller are both impressive as Bessie Tucker and
Lillian Miller, respectively; joining them in the chorus, Carmen Ruby Floyd
makes little impression, while Timothy Parham has the unsettling, unyielding
smile seen only on beauty pageant contestants and serial killers.
Cavin Yarbrough has a
gorgeous voice as Lead Belly, but saddled as he is with the most painful
expository dialogue, one is never unreservedly happy for him to take center
stage. And though Babatunde looks startlingly like the real Blind Lemon, his
immobile trunk, flailing arms and gummy grin also make him look like a
particularly precocious baby. Unkind as it may be to say, the multiple hats he
wears with this production make the show seem more like a vanity project and
less like a celebration of a talented musician.
> Dial ‘N’ for Negress
Through Sept. 26, The
Clurman Theatre, 410 W. 42nd St. (betw. 9th & 10th Aves.), 212-279-4200; times vary, $19.25.
> Blind Lemon Blues
Through Oct. 4, York
Theatre Company, 619 Lexington Ave. (at E. 54th St.), 212-935-5820;
times vary, $67.50.
