Displaying items by tag: Cynthia Carter

Ever since my folks saw the Tony-winning production of Big River on Broadway when I was little and brought home the soundtrack on vinyl, the Roger Miller-penned musical has been my favorite. It not only acted as a gateway for young me to become a fan of Broadway, but it also introduced me at an early age to Miller’s and others’ classic songwriting, and to the story of Huckleberry Finn that I’d then revisit so many times in classrooms and libraries and pop culture. So, I’m always excited when there’s a production of the show, all these years later.

I was especially excited when, a few months back, I learned of Big River’s current production—now through June 11—at Mercury Theater, who have become one of my favorite companies in the past couple years, for their talent, for their show selection, and for the joy and heart that go into each of those shows. This production, by Mercury’s Artistic Director Christopher Chase Carter, did not disappoint.

The theater itself is always charming—a turn-of-the-century silent movie house ready to transport you someplace else. The set, 19^th-century Missouri on the banks of the Mississippi, by Jacqueline and Richard Penrod, completed the time travel. And as the show began, so did the narrators—Marcus Jackson (as charming as he was last year in Mercury’s Priscilla) as Mark Twain and newcomer Eric Amundson as Huck. The setting, Marquecia Jordan’s costumes, and the grounding that this is, in fact, an old-timey story do nothing to take away from said story’s timelessness or its lessons for today.

Quick note on Huck Finn’s datedness—one choice for any production of Big River is whether or not to incorporate Twain’s original language. This production does so, which was initially shocking. But, not to speak for the director’s intent, I think that was the point.

Amundson is a strong lead—his vocals stronger than many Hucks I’ve heard, especially on “Waitin’ for the Light to Shine”—and a charismatic Finn, boyish but in command of the stage. He harmonizes beautifully with Twain’s and Big River’s other protagonist…and as any great production of this show needs, it’s his friend Jim who’s the real star.

That star here is Curtis Bannister. Bannister truly takes command of the stage—most of the time on the raft the two share, or on various river islands along their journey—with his presence, but also with his voice. The orchestra, conducted by Marques Stewart, slows the tempo of the show’s songs just a touch, making them slightly more soulful and less showtuney than Miller’s original. This plays into Bannister’s singing strengths, letting him investigate and investigate each song’s melody.

And what songs they are— “Muddy Water,” “River in the Rain,” and “Worlds Apart” are duets he shares with Amundson where their voices seamlessly mix, while Jim’s “Free at Last” beautifully ends the show, accompanied by members of the ensemble playing those still enslaved, still seeking freedom.

Perhaps the vocal highlight of this show is by ensemble member Isis Elizabeth, who turns the schoolmarmish hymn “How Blest We Are” into funereal gospel. Perhaps the most timeless of the songs here is “Guv’ment,” a screed against everything that wouldn’t be out of place in right-wing or reactionary media. Huck’s Pap is played less over-the-top and boisterous, by David Stobbe, than any other Pap I’ve seen. He didn’t play for laughs as much as for sympathy—it worked for me—but he completely went for the laughs as the King, who, accompanied by Gabriel Fries’ Duke, gives the show some levity at its darkest moments, their malaprops and Shakespearean gobbledygook and medicine show shenanigans a lot of fun.

The rest of the ensemble is every bit as great as casts at the Mercury always are. Cynthia Carter—who I’ve long enjoyed in Chicago theater; seriously, if her name is on the playbill I know I’m in for a good show—provides beautiful vocals. McKinley Carter—last seen as Mrs. White in Mercury’s Clue—is a character, as always, as Miss Watson. Amanda Handegan’s Mary Jane brings heartbreak to her songs. Callan Roberts’s Tom Sawyer is the aw-shucks fun and adventure that Twain first explored in that boy’s book. And March Marren brings slapstick and charm to their roles as Jo and the Young Fool. As good an ensemble as you’ll find, which is what I’ve come to expect at the Mercury Theater.

And this production, overall, is what I’ve come to expect at the Mercury Theater—a new like at a classic work, featuring Chicago’s finest talents sharing their voices, their creativity, their joy, and their soul, which they will be doing from now through June 11.

These days, the antihero has become the new hero. Talented, but tortured. Acclaimed, but complicated. We have gotten to a point in culture where those we place upon pedestals are not just allowed to be, but expected to be, both ingenious and imperfect. And I’m fine with that; seeing my heroes as humans not only makes them more relatable, but more real and much more fascinating.

One of music’s true heroes – and a legend we lost at age 90 in the past year – gets this realistic treatment in Black Ensemble Theater’s Hail, Hail Chuck: A Tribute to Chuck Berry, written by L. Maceo Ferris. That’s not to say that the show, directed by Daryl D. Brooks, isn’t a delightful musical production, because it is. But instead of simply focusing on the beloved songs Chuck Berry left us, we get a look at the man who made the music.

We see Chuck’s childhood as a deacon’s son – which, coming from this son of a preacher man, can lead to a far from perfect adulthood – and his run-ins with the law. We witness a young Chuck struggle against racial inequality, both while touring through the Jim Crow South and right at home in St. Louis, as well as the unfair practices of record labels and managers. But while these episodes might explain the famously curmudgeonly man Mr. Berry became, especially later in life, they do nothing to dampen the pure joy his music brought to the world.

And that music! That rock and roll music!

That music is played, and played perfectly, by a band led by musical director and drummer Robert Reddrick. The band performs above the stage, so we see and appreciate every note, every backbeat. Oscar Brown fires off those licks we all know, those riffs that Chuck invented, with all the virtuosity and attitude you’d desire. Gary Baker and Mark Miller hold it down on rhythm guitar and bass, respectively. And Adam Sherrod is a highlight on keyboards, not just playing the piano parts of Johnny Johnson, but of Jerry Lee Lewis and Fats Domino, as well.

But in front of the band, in front of the mic, is the man. Or men, as we get an older Chuck as narrator, performer, and actor, played by Lyle Miller. Miller’s got the look – the sideburns, the sequined shirts, the pigeon-toed strut – and he’s also got the musical chops, as vocally he kills it. But what he brings most of all is that pure joy. Chuck, despite his difficulties as a man, was always the ultimate performer. And Miller brings that, a twinkle in his eye and a spring in his, admittedly, aged step.

What Chuck might have lost in spryness when he got older, the young Chuck always had, and that is what Vincent Jordan provides us as Berry in his earlier years. A lanky, cocky, duck-walking “black man playing hillbilly music,” Jordan has the confidence that Chuck had, that Chuck had to have, as he played as an underage prisoner, as an unknown in a St. Louis nightclub, and as an unsigned talent at Chicago’s legendary Chess Records. He had it, and he knew it. What I didn’t know, what I couldn’t have known, is that Jordan was a last-minute fill-in for the role, having had only days to learn the part, learn the songs, learn to be Chuck Berry. If he’d prepared his whole life to play Chuck, I’d have applauded Jordan’s performance. But to learn he did so in less than a week, now that’s something special.

Also special is the rest of the cast. As younger and older versions of Chuck’s longtime musical partner and pianist, Johnny Johnson, Rueben Echoles and Kelvin Davis bring humanity and humor. And it’s nice that Ferris’ script works to rectify the decades Johnson spent receiving little to no recognition for his hand in making the man we know as Chuck Berry. Jeff Wright plays two important roles in Chuck’s legend. First, he plays Leonard Chess, the Chicago label owner who made Chuck famous, and himself very wealthy in the process, as well as a sneering, leering Keith Richards, one of many white men who built careers on reworking what Chuck had invented. Dwight Neal was a particular favorite of mine, also handling dual roles. His Muddy Waters howls and growls the 1950s electrified Chicago blues, while his Fats Domino is regal, tickling the ivories to “Blue Monday.”

The rest of the ensemble is impressive, too. Kylah Williams is affecting as Chuck’s loyal and long-suffering wife Themetta. Cynthia Carter brings additional joy and humor each time she graces the stage. And Trequon Tate is great as a late-period Bo Diddley, leading the audience in a singalong.

And that’s what this show is all about, really: the songs, and how the audience loves them, how everyone loves them. Old and young, black and white, nobody could stay still as those frolicking riffs were played and those transporting lyrics were sung. And while Jackie Taylor’s Black Ensemble Theater does look at some of the more honest and serious aspects of Chuck Berry’s life, it is almost impossible to make human the kind of hero, the kind of superhuman who could write those songs and perform them. Hail, hail Chuck Berry. Hail, hail Black Ensemble Theater. And hail, hail rock and roll.

Hail, Hail Chuck: A Tribute to Chuck Berry is being performed at Black Ensemble Theater through April 1st. For more show information, visit blackensembletheater.org.