Displaying items by tag: Cynthia F Carter

While I’m familiar with Studs Terkel’s oral of history of workers, titled of course ‘Working’, I came into opening night of Theo Ubique’s production of Stephen Schwartz’s musical adaptation completely ignorant of its content, its music, any of it. I didn’t know Schwartz had originally written and staged it in the late 70s. I didn’t know it featured music by a 70s icon, James Taylor. And I didn’t know it had been refreshed in the past decade with tunes by a more modern musical icon, Lin Manuel Miranda. Sometimes it’s nice to come into a show blissfully ignorant; doing so gives you those rare moments of surprise that come in adulthood.

So, I was surprised by much of it. I was surprised by the musical numbers. And I was surprised by the unevenness of this Broadway giant’s work here. But I was not at all surprised by the enthusiasm and talent on display by the cast assembled at this great little treasure of a theater where Chicago and Evanston meet near the Howard station (its name proudly part of the tasteful set).

The musical numbers were a lot of fun — 70s Broadway stuff since, as I now know, this is 70s Broadway stuff. Musical director and keyboardist Jeremy Ramey (who killed it earlier this year in the same roles for Theo Ubique’s killer Hedwig) has maybe the best time of anyone in the house, channeling his love of music and love of this music through his fingers and his constant movement. His band, featuring Hedwig’s Perry Cowdery on guitar and Carlos Mendoza on drums, as well as Rafe Bradford on bass, are in lockstep the whole way, complementing both the cast and the score.

A couple members of said cast really show off their musical talent here, too. Stephen Blu Allen, who I’d yet to see perform, impressed with his overall talent. Maybe the youngest member of the cast, he moved like a veteran and sang like one, too, possessing a smooth voice that worked as well as a lead instrument as it did when hitting just the right harmonies when accompanying his castmates. The presence of Cynthia F. Carter, who’s quickly become one of my favorite local actors and singers (having seen her shine in the Black Ensemble Theater’s tributes to Mahalia Jackson and Chuck Berry), assured me upon seeing her name in the playbill that I was in good hands. And wouldn’t you know it — I was in the steady and experienced hands of both her stewardess and her streetwalker, and blown away by her cleaning woman’s closing number, “If I Could Have Been.”

And that number’s where I’ll list my gripe — only one gripe, really — a gripe not with the players, but with the piece itself. The show could’ve ended right there, with Carter’s number as the closer. But it kept going and kept preaching. When Schwartz lets the characters and their lives do the talking, ‘Working’ works. But when he tries to sum up what the workers have said, wrapping it up all tidy-like and preaching to the audience, it gets, well, a bit preachy. Any audience deserves the playwright’s respect, especially an audience there to see an adaptation of a book by Studs Terkel. They don’t — we don’t — need to be told what to think. We just need a work that’ll make us think, whatever that thinking might be and wherever that thinking might lead.

In ‘Working’’s first half, there’s more of that preaching going on. A schoolteacher played by Loretta Rezos preaches at us with all the stereotyped gripes about kids these days (especially those in neighborhoods where schoolteachers might be especially harried) — knives and drugs and Ritalin, but no respect and no grasp of the English language (except as a second language). Michael Kingston’s moneymaking and money-worshiping businessman is more of the same — a stereotype of money and business without anything new to say about it. But in the second half, both Rezos and Kingston get characters with more to do and thus more to say. Rezos’ restaurant worker gets perhaps my favorite number, turning the work of waiting tables into an art. And Kingston’s “Joe” brings the feels without the heavy-handed attempts to get them as his elderly titular character monologues about watching housefires and long-ago waltzes and old Sunday drunks with cash hidden in their socks.

I can’t forget the last two members of this talented cast, all of whom play multiple characters. Jared David Michael Grant is the show’s heart, as a long-haul trucker, as a laid-off worker, and especially as the fireman at one of those housefires Joe spends his retirement chasing. The firefighter’s soliloquy, not just about the work of first responders but about the world they respond to, was every bit as meaningful as it must’ve been when Terkel and Schwartz encountered it over forty years ago. And Kiersten Frumkin is sort of the cast’s utility worker — in a play about such folks — nimbly playing a millworker, a lot lizard, a housewife, and more. It’s her last worker, a woman proudly watching the child she’s raising grow, that’s her best, and features a beautiful duet with Allen’s nursing home worker.

So, while the play itself is far from perfect, it gets better after intermission. And while the play itself is far from perfect, its cast perfectly plays the many roles they’re asked to play. And, isn’t an imperfect what workers and their worlds are? As Allen’s southside community organizer says late in ‘Working’, “history is made up of a lot of little people,” and ‘Working’ gives all of those little people a voice and a stage to tell their messy, imperfect, and real stories of ‘Working’ and of life, now through January 26 at what’s become one of my favorite spots, Theo Ubique on Howard in Evanston.

I’ll let you all in on a little secret: Whenever I’m having a lousy day, I pull up YouTube and take in Mahalia Jackson’s performance of “Just a Closer Walk with Thee” at the 1970 Newport Jazz Festival. This performance is notable, of course, for the special guest who joins Mahalia onstage near the end: Louis Armstrong. It’s also notable for the fact that Satchmo would be dead in less than a year, and Mahalia would join him on “thy kingdom’s shore” in less than two. With that in mind, seeing this musical icon in the last bit of her life not only still in complete control of her stage and her audience (I dare you to find me any rock ‘n’ roll singer from that era, or any era, with such a commanding presence!), but exuding such joy, makes whatever gripes I might be imagining on any given day disappear.

That command, that presence, and that joy that Mahalia spread around the world are on display throughout the Black Ensemble Theater’s current production, Mahalia Jackson: Moving Thru the Light. Written and directed by the theater’s indefatigable, inspired, and inspiring founder, Jackie Taylor, the show is framed as a series of dialogues between a recently deceased Mahalia and a trio of heavenly beings there to welcome her to the afterlife. These scenes are fine — giving the audience biographical information about Mahalia’s life and her relationships both personal and political (MLK, JFK, and RFK, among them) — but mostly act as a breather between the show’s 18 wonderful musical numbers. Because, in a show about one of America’s finest musical talents, the music should be the message, right?

In the role of Mahalia, Robin DaSilva certainly has a large gospel robe to fill. But spread the gospel, she does. DaSilva’s voice is a beautiful instrument, ranging from a rich alto to shimmering highs, emoting pain and, yes, frequently spreading joy. She fills the stage and her vocals fill the theater. Joining DaSilva onstage throughout the show are Cynthia F. Carter, Dwight Neal, and Stewart Romeo as the “Masters,” three heavenly beings welcoming Mahalia to her heavenly reward. Carter charmed last year in the Theater’s tribute to Chuck Berry, and both Neal and Romeo are her equals, the trio’s voices blending effortlessly as they harmonize with Mahalia and with one another. The three also each shine on their own, with Carter’s voice showing quite a range, Neal’s tenor piercing the room, and Romeo’s energy and enthusiasm equaling his vocal prowess. During the show’s first half, an ensemble acts as the story’s narrators, but near the end of the second, they join us in a tribute to Mahalia’s life and music.

And again, it’s the music that is the star of the show. As I said, 18 different songs are featured, and many are the favorites that gospel fans would expect. From “How Great Thou Art” to “How I Got Over,” from “His Eye Is on the Sparrow” to “Precious Lord, Take My Hand,” all of Mahalia’s “hits” are there. The show ends with the crowd singing along to “Down by the Riverside” and “When the Saints Go Marching In.” And near the end of the first act, perhaps DeSilva’s finest performance comes as her Mahalia sings Rodgers and Hammerstein’s “You’ll Never Walk Alone.” But for me, it’s the tune that ends the first act that filled me with joy. As DaSilva’s Mahalia sings “When my feeble life is o’er” in her rendition of “Just a Closer Walk with Thee,” my heart soared as I was able to spend a beautiful spring Sunday afternoon with the music of this legend and the legions of likeminded fans who’d come to the Black Ensemble Theater to hear it.

Mahalia Jackson: Moving Thru the Light - through April 14th at Black Ensemble Theater.