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.
