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.”
When they were told that inadvertently they sold their home to a Black family, Russ staunchly refused to listen to the racist rationalizations from Karl (Cliff Chamberlain), a neighborhood organizer bent on keeping the neighborhood white. Act One exposes the white racism clouded by stability issues that shatter the peacefulness of the 1950s.
The lavish sets, gorgeous score, witty lyrics, fine period costumes and the spirited performances makes Paramount Theatre’s inaugural Broadway musical a high standard affair that instantly gives Paramount credibility. We need a western suburban theatre such as the 1800 seat large proscenium stage Paramount Theatre to succeed so that large-scale classic musical can be offered outside of downtown Chicago with our home-grown talents