Tom Williams And what songs they are: 28 drawn from 12 successful musicals – all written by Stephen Schwartz. The melodies are recognizable from many of these shows which include Wicked, Pippin, Godspell, The Magic Show, Rags, Personals, The Baker’s Wife, Enchanted, Captain Louie, Working, Reluctant Pilgrim and Children of Eden – but the lyrics have been rewritten to fit the new dramatic situation.
The Count is a noble man, learned, driven, excellent; he performs great deeds. And yet he has, at times, surrounded himself with unsavory characters. He is consumed by his desires, his drive; and yet, when they are consummated, what is left for him? Is revenge justice or pettiness? The story delves deeply into morality, and not in a simplistic way.
The three blues are studies in nuance and non-verbal communication – from the pertinent turn of a head to the gesture of a finger – everything becomes clear. The Blue Men can be slapstick or poignant; they capture and display emotion easily and with aplomb and wind us around their drumming fingers with each and every shtick. Their individual facial features may be blurred by the blue, but oh those speaking eyes!
They deal with their issues in complex, thought-provoking, fair, and difficult ways. They are mature and ask for discussion, delving into the depths of their implications and repercussions. None of them are point-blank, simple, blanketed statements. They are sympathetic to all parties involved, neither bearing ideology nor dogmatism.
Violet unfolds as a chamber operetta that is mostly sung including sung dialogue at times with a curious blending of musical styles that finds a ballad morphing into a blues chant and solo becoming a choral number with most of the cast.
Who would ever think that such a topic could be molded into a drama? With wit, humor, and compassion, Sarah Ruhl takes historical fact – the medical use of vibrators to calm female patients suffering from what was diagnosed as hysteria in the late 19th century – and innovatively weaves it into a tale of love on many levels, including but certainly not limited to the physical.
Alma is almost wholly focused on the fulfillment of the soul; while John is focused purely on the fulfillment of the body. They both try to convince the other of the merits of their way of thinking; but as I said, they are both flawed manifestations of even their points of view.
What is neat about the play is the variety — tall and short women, thin and fat women, white and black — each with her own plusses and minuses, yet all sharing recognized moments and concerns. Kudos to a fine cast where the actors swiftly and professionally interchange their shifting roles.
It ends up being a sort of socialist, absurdist comedy; so, there are some parallels with Brecht. That said, it lacks the deep incisiveness of Brecht (though that can hardly be called a deadly blow: after all, there are exceedingly few who possess it). And it is, indeed, plenty satirical.
Narrated and framed by Southern blues played deftly by Kelvyn Bell (Guitar Man) and sung soulfully by Alexis J. Rogers, Spunk unfolds as a funny yet poignant adaptation (by George C. Wolfe) of three short stories by Zora Neale Hurston – “Sweet,” “Story in Harlem Slang,” and “The Guilded Six-Bits.”