Review: Memphis (Broadway in Chicago)

By Chicagotheaterbeat @chitheaterbeat

  
  
Memphis 

By Joe DiPietro and David Bryan
Directed by Christopher Ashley
Cadillac Palace Theatre, 151 W. Randolph (map)
thru Dec 4  |  tickets: $37-$95   |  more info
  
Check for half-price tickets 
  
  
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A feel-good explosion of mostly good vibrations

     

  

Broadway in Chicago presents

  

Memphis

Review by Catey Sullivan 

Arriving in Chicago with the hype that invariably accompanies a megahit musical with four Tony Awards, (Best Musical, Score, Book, Orchestrations), Memphis is a fitting sonic blast of down ‘n dirty, blues-infused rock and roll. In telling of the glorious infiltration of “race music” into the south’s lily white musak-bland menu of Perry Como and Andy Williams, Memphis has the sound of the era nailed. On the one hand, there’s the soft and gentle blandness that dominated mainstream radio and had kids sweetly holding hands in their living rooms under the watchful eyes of their parents. On the other, Memphis offers the infectious and ear-splitting sounds of renegade rockers getting it on in the basement with music that inevitably led to the vertical expression of the horizontal desire.

And wouldn’t you know, it takes a white guy to bring “race music” to the mainstream as the world-changing cultural force that it was (and continues to be.) Jackie Taylor and her Black Ensemble Theater plumbed some of this turf with Elvis Presley Was a Black Man, a cannily titled musical if ever there was one; Million Dollar Quartet delivers lacerating blues from an iconic quartet of white guys picking up where the likes of Robert Johnson left off at the cross roads. All of which is to say is that Memphis isn’t an especially new story. It is, however, a sleekly packaged branding of an old story, cleverly designed to make white folks feel the value of their own contribution to the race music most of them tried mightily to keep from the ears of the god-fearing children they sought to protect. King might have been marching for Civil Rights while being blasted by Bull Connor with water cannons. For his part, Huey and his American Bandstand-like TV show were making the world safer for doo-wop-a-wap-bop-a-whop-and-boom.

Which isn’t to minimize the story at hand in Joe Dipietro’s book or David Bryan’s music and lyrics. OK, so it is intended to minimize the story just a tad. But it’s still a whopping fine story, rich in entertainment, razzle-dazzle dance numbers and soul-stirring vocals that soar with the power of old-school gospel and crackle with the electric pop that makes dancing not so much an option but an uncontrollable force of nature. As for blue chip choreography, Sergio Trujillo manages the seemingly impossible feat of capturing both the carnal urgency and the ethereal balletic grace of the dances, creating a tension between the two aesthetics that’s no less than thrilling.

Memphis spices up the musical storytelling with a story line of star cross’ed lovers, in this case the charismatic, golden-piped, cinnamon-skinned girl Felicia (Felicia Boswell), and the pasty-white radio geek Huey (Bryan Fenkart), who succeeds in getting her on the radio despite her overbearing, club-owning brother Delray (Quentin Earl Darrington). To the show’s credit, the powerhouse pair do not ride off into the sunset on a pair of golden unicorns. This is 1955, when miscegenation wasn’t just a word, it was the law of the land.

Huey’s the sort of illiterate, wildly, nerdishly uninhibited fellow who dresses “like an alcoholic Christmas tree” and doesn’t think twice about commandeering the local DJ booth to shock the locals into shaking their groovethings. He’s got as much use for Perry Como as he does for high-button shoes and it’s not long before he’s got Felicia burning up the airwaves, under the glowering mistrustful eyes of her brother Delray. But for all his goofy wildness, he’s got a gift for selling records. When he makes a bet by selling two dozen singles inside of five or so minutes, attention must be paid.

Of course most of that attention goes to Felicia Boswell’s incandescent presence. She is a sinewy vocalist who voice flows like molten gold on softer numbers and brings down the house on noisier ones. Moreover, she’s got an unconventional, deep-seated affection for Hughie which makes their love story all the more poignant.

Music-directed to slick, commercial seamlessness by Kenny J. Seymour, Memphis is a sure-fire power house, a feel-good explosion of mostly good vibrations. Mostly, because director Christopher Ashley doesn’t shy from the life-altering violence that beset Hughie and Felicia when they’re outnumbered and out-weaponed by a group of a good-old-boys who seem to take a horrifyingly literal approach to the miscegenation laws.

In the end, the bitter-sweet survival of a love story simply too ahead of its time pales behind the galvanic force of that magnificent music. And with the band right up on stage Memphis looks as good as it sounds.

  

Rating: ★★★

  

  

Memphis continues through December 4th at the Cadillac Palace Theatre, 151 W. Randolph (map), with performances Tuesdays thru Fridays at 7:30pm, Saturdays at 2pm and 8pm, and Sundays at 2pm.  Tickets are $37-$95, and are available by phone (800-775-2000) or online at BroadwayinChicago.com. (check for half-price tickets at Goldstar.com). 

All photos by Paul Kolnik