36. HOLLER IF YA HEAR ME
I’m someone who didn’t hear Tupac
Shakur, so I never hollered when he was alive and I’m not about to start now.
That’s not to say that I didn’t actually enjoy parts of HOLLER IF YA HEAR ME, the
new musical at the Palace Theatre inspired by the lyrics of this leading rapper/actor
(born Lesane Parish Crooks), killed 18 years ago in a drive-by shooting in Las
Vegas at the age of 25. His impact was clearly enormous on the American music scene,
and his fans continue to be legion and from all walks of life (like a former
student, now a PhD candidate in England, who ran into me before the show). But rap
never hip-hopped its way into my musical consciousness and Shakur, for all his
success and his reputation for introducing social consciousness into his lyrics,
stayed off both my radar and my radio.
SaulWilliams, Saycon Sengbloh. Photo: Joan Marcus.
Shakur’s lyrics are studied in
college poetry courses, and there’s a library’s worth of critics who praise his
writing to the skies, so I’ll accept these things on faith. On the other hand,
I’m not convinced that, given the nature of the traditional Broadway audience,
his work is what they’re looking for. Much as the show’s format didn’t work for
me, however, I was grateful for the chance to experience Shakur’s words through
the medium of a narrative, written by Todd Kreidler, that gives them context,
even though the story is a cliché-driven inner city one that, at two hours and
20 minutes, is at least 20 minutes longer than it should be.
Above: Saul Williams. Photo: Joan Marcus.
Directed by recent Tony winner
Kenny Leon (for A RAISIN IN THE SUN) and choreographed by Tony winner Wayne
Cilento (for WICKED), the show would seem to have its ducks lined up neatly for
success, even without a big star headlining the cast. The lead is played by a
talented Broadway newcomer, Saul Williams, known for his slam-poetry, and he’s
supported by well-known Broadway talents Christopher Jackson and Tonya Pinkins,
among a company of mostly fresh faces. But its conventional plot about gangs
and guns in a black neighborhood, and its and rap lyrics, with their profanity and
racially provocative attitudes (we hear the “N” word over and over), may not be
a recipe for success on the Great White Way.
Unlike BEAUTIFUL: THE CAROLE KING
MUSICAL and other shows based on the songs of a famous writer or performer,
HOLLER IF YA HEAR ME eschews the bio-musical approach in favor of a made-up but
familiar tale of violence and vengeance on a ghetto block in an unnamed
Midwestern industrial city. Tupac Shakur is present only in his words.
The
central character, John (Mr. Williams), returns to the block after six years in
prison, bringing his newfound insights gained from the writing of poetry to a
world of drugs, promiscuity, and crime, from which everyone is struggling to
escape. All John wants now is a paycheck and a place to lay his head; he’ll do
anything to avoid going back to a life of crime, and isn’t excited about
reuniting with his former pals. But he still carries a huge chip on his
shoulder and, when, despite being an ex-con, he’s offered a job by Griffy (Ben
Thompson), a friendly white guy who runs his dad’s body shop, he treats him like
dirt. John’s friend Vertus (Mr. Jackson), who’s now dating John’s girl, Corrine
(Saycon Sengbloh), is a drug dealer whose younger brother, Benny (Donald
Webber, Jr.), gets killed not long into the show by a member of the 4-5s, a
rival gang, and the plot then drags along as Vertus and his homies, desperately
needing to bring meaning to this meaningless death, work out whether they
should respond to the murder in kind. Through it all wanders a homeless
preacher (John Earl Jelks), offering spiritual pronouncements. The tragic, if
accidental, ending can be seen coming from miles away.
The story incorporates issues of justice,
revenge, incarceration, social oppression, poverty, and racism. It struggles to
find ways to incorporate Shakur’s songs into the narrative structure, so that “Dear
Mama,” for example, allows for the introduction of Vertus’s mother (Ms.
Pinkins), a character reflective of Shakur’s own mother, the activist Afeni
Shakur. Other numbers fans will hear include “My Block,” “Life goes On,” “I Get
Around/Keep Ya Head Up,” “I Ain’t Mad at Cha,” “Me Against the World,” “Whatz
Next,” “Holler If Ya Hear Me,” “Thugz Mansion,” “California Love,” and “Ghetto
Gospel.” The songs are acceptable on their own, but they don’t add much to the
narrative thrust, and their ideas eventually begin to sound repetitive. Oddly,
no specific person is credited with the often effective music; the program
credits Tupac Shakur for his lyrics, but for music all it gives is “Music Coordinator”
(John Monaco) and “Music Supervision, Orchestrations, and Arrangements” (Daryl
Waters).
There are strong performances by
Mr. Williams, Mr. Jackson, and the underused Ms. Pinkins (what a great voice!),
the supporting ensemble dances and sings ably, and some numbers, like “Holler
If Ya Hear Me,” powerfully led by Mr. Williams, and "Thugz Mansion," featuring Mr. Thompson, stay in your mind. But all the
characters are stereotypes and there’s nothing that sharply differentiates them
from others you’ve seen before on stage and screen.
Edward Pierce’s scenery is grim
and dark, with minimal physical elements used to depict specific places. There
are lots of sliding panels, brick walls, chain link fencing, and a
suspended-in-air jail cell that doubles as John’s pad, but nothing is particularly
imaginative. The most vivid image is of a vintage purple Cadillac that features
late in the play and allows the cast to dance all over it while singing “California
Love”; if you saw HANDS ON A HARDBODY two seasons ago, you’ll get the idea. The
set proper is essentially neutral and much of the visual effect derives from
the busy work of lighting designer Mike Baldassari, with the beams of multiple
spotlights creating patterns of their own, aided by the projections of Zachary
Borovay, which illustrate the sketches John is often drawing on his pad.
For some reason, the interior of
the Palace Theatre, where the play is showing, has been reconstructed so as to
provide risers that climb from the forestage to the balcony, hiding the actual
orchestra seats below. This allows for a small staging area under the balcony
(used for talkbacks and the like), which, if you’re seated on the new risers,
you pass on the way to your seat. An usher told me this means there are at
least 500 fewer seats available, but, with business reportedly being poor, it
may not matter very much in the long run, which is something I doubt the show
will have.
