Ring recycle
All that glitters is not Golden
by Steve Vineburg
GOLDEN BOY.
Book by Clifford Odets, William Gibson, and Keith Glover. Music by Charles
Strouse. Lyrics by Lee Adams and Charles Strouse. Directed by Keith Glover.
Choreographed by Willie Rosario. Musical direction by George Caldwell. Sets
designed by David Gallo. Lighting by Robert Wierzel. Costumes by Paul Tazewell.
With Rodney Hicks, Nana Visitor, Michael Rupert, Peter Jay Fernandez, Frank
Mastrone, Doug Eskew, Milton Craig Nealy, Harriett D. Foy, and David St. Louis.
At Long Wharf Theatre, New Haven, Connecticut, through December 17.
Golden Boy began life in 1937 as the first stage
play Clifford Odets wrote after a two-year stint in Hollywood. The conflict
between the young protagonist Joe Bonaparte's sensitivity
(represented by his gift for the violin) and his drive for brute success (his
meteoric boxing career) dramatized Odets's own divided soul: like many Eastern
writers drawn to the movies in the '20s and '30s, he felt he was whoring his
talents but found the easy money tough to resist. The musical Odets and the
songwriting team of Charles Strouse and Lee Adams fashioned from this material
in the mid-'60s -- along with William Gibson, who stepped in after Odets's
death in 1963 -- threw out that damn symbolic violin and gave the story a
contemporary racial bent by making Joe a black man who falls for his manager's
white mistress. With Sammy Davis Jr. in the title role, it was a modest hit on
Broadway. But the swift and radical alterations that American race politics
underwent in the late '60s and early '70s dated the Gibson-Odets script. For
three and a half decades, it went unproduced, a tantalizing mystery to
musical-theater buffs who know it only through the original cast recording.
That's why I was so anxious to check out the new revival at the Long Wharf.
Golden Boy now has a revised book (Keith Glover, who staged the
production, made the changes) with seven or eight new songs and one
restoration: "Yes, I Can," which Davis recorded on a studio album before the
play opened but which didn't survive previews. There's so much terrific music
in this revival that the blurry, monolithic new arrangements by composer
Strouse and musical director George Caldwell -- or perhaps it's Bobby Watson's
orchestrations -- combined with the depersonalized miking have a
canvas-slashing effect. It doesn't help that most of the music is badly sung,
in a technically flamboyant style that throws phrasing to the wind. Rodney
Hicks, the physically striking young actor who plays Joe, performs eight songs
in various moods and tempos, but they all sound pretty much the same, as if he
had no idea what the lyrics meant. Some of the singers come through. Nana
Visitor, who plays Lorna Moon, the object of Joe's desire, does a lovely,
unaffected rendition of the title tune. "Butterfly," one of the new numbers,
sung by Frank Mastrone, is a highlight, and, in fact, Mastrone gives such a
convincing performance as Joe's compassionate trainer, Tokio, that I wish he'd
had more to sing and more scenes to play. And Doug Eskew's wooden acting
in the unfortunate part of Joe's disapproving papa is more than forgiven when
he opens his mouth to sing "One More Chance" (the new finale) and his
magnificent, gospelish basso profundo pours out.
Glover doesn't appear to have improved the 1964 book. The racial issues are
minimized, which is probably wise. But aside from the generic contrast between
the desperate (married) failure Lorna's attached to, Tom Moody (Michael
Rupert), and the fresh-faced kid who becomes Moody's first champ in years,
there's no apparent reason why she'd fall for Joe, who is not only callow but
unlikable. When he becomes high-handed and entitled, turning his back on his
Harlem friends and betraying Moody's trust, you don't experience his behavior
as a fall from grace because there wasn't much substance or charm there to
begin with. It should be mentioned, however, that beneath too much make-up and
an unfortunate, scrapping haircut, Nana Visitor is very affecting as Lorna; her
fondness for Joe may be a puzzle, but the anguish it touches off in her
provides the show's emotional center.
The production isn't any more likable than Joe Bonaparte. None of the visual
elements is pleasurable: singly and in combo, Glover's emphatic staging, David
Gallo's gritty, monochromatic set, Robert Wierzell's overstated lighting, and
Paul Tazewell's ugly costume designs (which reach their nadir in the
carnivalesque "This Is the Life" number ) work so hard to knock you out that
sometimes you may want to close your eyes and take a rest. Boxing may be the
milieu of this musical, but it shouldn't be its concept, too. I felt jabbed at
all evening and exhausted long before the second-act curtain. Whatever there
was to rediscover in this musical remains locked up behind this production's
flashy exterior.
For ticket information, call (800) 782-8497.