Cabaret Scenes Theatre Review

Mark Stewart, better known as "Stew," has brought something new to Broadway, something beyond the ear-splitting tremors. His semiautobiographical Passing Strange feels like a rock concert with the soul of a play. It is stylized but with a grounding of simplicity. It has moments of pretentiousness, doses of humor and a definite suggestion of familiarity.

First a few words about Stew, an affable, bald 46-year old, the librettist, lyricist, and narrator of Passing Strange. His collaborator is composer/musician Heidi Rodewald. This is loosely Stew's story, and he and his guitar are front and center from the first ebullient drum riff to the last. He comes from California, sings and writes songs, and had no theatre experience until Passing Strange passed into the Belasco Theatre by way of New York's Public Theater.

Stew begins his story of role-playing with his alter ego, Youth, a black middle-class teenager played by Daniel Breaker. Mother (Eisa Davis) calls him for church, but Youth has found Zen Buddhism and wants no part of her conventional church. Eventually he does go, and it is in church that he finds the connection between gospel and rock 'n' roll. He also finds sex, drugs, and some shady pals, including the pastor's son, and they form a punk rock band using British accents.

Meanwhile Youth is restless and yearns to "get real." He sees himself as a musician and aches to break away from his mother's bourgeois world and find own identity. He takes off for Amsterdam and then Berlin, meeting new cultures of casual sexuality and anarchist upheaval. He is dizzy with the excitement of colorful cities and people, the Euro-culture that seems so different from home.

He later learns people everywhere are role playing, trying to fit the molds, or as he says, "passing." Stew uses the stereotypes in Los Angeles, Amsterdam, and Berlin. The song, "Baptist Fashion Show," musically illustrates churchgoers' hat-and-gloves dress code to impress each other. In Berlin, performing a millennium minstrel, "The Black One," Youth tries passing as a Watts ghetto kid. His mother's phone calls remind him of his middle-class reality, and he ignores her pleas to come home. Both Amsterdam and Berlin eventually disappoint him, still leaving him without the answers he seeks. He is 22 years old before that he realizes that the journey within is more important than the culturally created fellowships he finds, where he keeps passing as something he is not.

Breaker and Davis are the only actors who play just one character. The rest of the six-person ensemble, De'Adre Aziza, Colman Domingo, Chad Goodridge and Rebecca Naomi Jones, are standouts in a variety of roles. Breaker is an authoritative singer and actor, bringing likeability into the self-involved adolescence of Youth. Eisa Davis' Mother grabs the audience's heart from the start. She is repressed, witty, smothering her son and wanting him in her realm of respectability. Stew has a commanding personality and a potent baritone vocal sound.

The music rocks the stage with influences of blues, rock, gospel, punk and a strong pop sound. Stew's lyrics are narrative and move the story forward with songs like "Keys," where Marianna, a Dutch girl, freely offers Youth her apartment. In "We Just Had Sex," well, you can figure that out. Stew's narrator adds his perspective of age. Rodewald plays bass and sings, and all four band members are insinuated into the story.

Director/co-creator Annie Dorsen moves with continuity within a setting of intimacy. Karole Armitage's choreography is ebullient, imaginative, and dramatic. David Korins set is minimalist, with carefully spaced areas for the four different rhythmic instrumental areas that descent into pits. Costumes by Elizabeth Hope Clancy subtly define the different worlds Youth visits, the beatnik casualness of Amsterdam, the leathery rigidity of Berlin. Mother's classic shirtwaist dress is her own statement. Kevin Adams' impressive wall lighting design and Tom Morse's exuberant sound ignite the theatricality.

This is not a show for everyone, but musical theatre is always redefining itself. For those willing to forgo classification, Passing Strange is a theatrical splash of vitality, a dose of rockin' Vitamin C, and, in the words of John Mansfield, "the unknown passing through the strange."

Elizabeth Ahlfors
Cabaret Scenes
March 5, 2008
www.cabaretscenes.org



	Passing Strange Belasco Theatre New York, NY
Mark Stewart, better known as "Stew," has brought something new to Broadway, something beyond the ear-splitting tremors. His semiautobiographical Passing Strange feels like a rock concert with the soul of a play. It is stylized but with a grounding of simplicity. It has moments of pretentiousness, doses of humor and a definite suggestion of familiarity. First a few words about Stew, an affable, bald 46-year old, the librettist, lyricist, and narrator of Passing Strange. His collaborator is composer/musician Heidi Rodewald. This is loosely Stew's story, and he and his guitar are front and center from the first ebullient drum riff to the last. He comes from California, sings and writes songs, and had no theatre experience until Passing Strange passed into the Belasco Theatre by way of New York's Public Theater. Stew begins his story of role-playing with his alter ego, Youth, a black middle-class teenager played by Daniel Breaker. Mother (Eisa Davis) calls him for church, but Youth has found Zen Buddhism and wants no part of her conventional church. Eventually he does go, and it is in church that he finds the connection between gospel and rock 'n' roll. He also finds sex, drugs, and some shady pals, including the pastor's son, and they form a punk rock band using British accents. Meanwhile Youth is restless and yearns to "get real." He sees himself as a musician and aches to break away from his mother's bourgeois world and find own identity. He takes off for Amsterdam and then Berlin, meeting new cultures of casual sexuality and anarchist upheaval. He is dizzy with the excitement of colorful cities and people, the Euro-culture that seems so different from home. He later learns people everywhere are role playing, trying to fit the molds, or as he says, "passing." Stew uses the stereotypes in Los Angeles, Amsterdam, and Berlin. The song, "Baptist Fashion Show," musically illustrates churchgoers' hat-and-gloves dress code to impress each other. In Berlin, performing a millennium minstrel, "The Black One," Youth tries passing as a Watts ghetto kid. His mother's phone calls remind him of his middle-class reality, and he ignores her pleas to come home. Both Amsterdam and Berlin eventually disappoint him, still leaving him without the answers he seeks. He is 22 years old before that he realizes that the journey within is more important than the culturally created fellowships he finds, where he keeps passing as something he is not. Breaker and Davis are the only actors who play just one character. The rest of the six-person ensemble, De'Adre Aziza, Colman Domingo, Chad Goodridge and Rebecca Naomi Jones, are standouts in a variety of roles. Breaker is an authoritative singer and actor, bringing likeability into the self-involved adolescence of Youth. Eisa Davis' Mother grabs the audience's heart from the start. She is repressed, witty, smothering her son and wanting him in her realm of respectability. Stew has a commanding personality and a potent baritone vocal sound. The music rocks the stage with influences of blues, rock, gospel, punk and a strong pop sound. Stew's lyrics are narrative and move the story forward with songs like "Keys," where Marianna, a Dutch girl, freely offers Youth her apartment. In "We Just Had Sex," well, you can figure that out. Stew's narrator adds his perspective of age. Rodewald plays bass and sings, and all four band members are insinuated into the story. Director/co-creator Annie Dorsen moves with continuity within a setting of intimacy. Karole Armitage's choreography is ebullient, imaginative, and dramatic. David Korins set is minimalist, with carefully spaced areas for the four different rhythmic instrumental areas that descent into pits. Costumes by Elizabeth Hope Clancy subtly define the different worlds Youth visits, the beatnik casualness of Amsterdam, the leathery rigidity of Berlin. Mother's classic shirtwaist dress is her own statement. Kevin Adams' impressive wall lighting design and Tom Morse's exuberant sound ignite the theatricality. This is not a show for everyone, but musical theatre is always redefining itself. For those willing to forgo classification, Passing Strange is a theatrical splash of vitality, a dose of rockin' Vitamin C, and, in the words of John Mansfield, "the unknown passing through the strange." Elizabeth Ahlfors Cabaret Scenes March 5, 2008 www.cabaretscenes.org

Passing Strange

Belasco Theatre New York, NY

Belasco Theatre
New York, NY