"They Got the Beat"
As used here, the Pete, the smallest of the Flea’s three
venues, is little more than a square, white room, with two doors (one to the
lobby). An audience of around 50 sits in double rows on two sides, with single
rows on the other two sides. Anton Volovsek’s set, representing a rehearsal
room, consists of nothing but a black and white area rug, a chair, and an electronic
music console. Windows line one wall, which briefly allows outside action to be
seen. Sharply lit by Xavier Pierce and provided with spot-on costuming by Sarah
Lawrence, Hype Man makes the most of
its visual minimalism.
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| Matt Stango, Tay Bass, Shakur Tolliver. Photo: Hunter Canning. |
And the beat maker, who
creates the musical and rhythmic underscoring, is the colorfully dressed Peep
One (Tay Bass), a young woman who moderates the tensions between the men, partly
because of her indeterminate racial identity. (All three actors are members of
the Bats, the Flea’s resident company of young actors.)
Goodwin’s ethnically diverse trio is necessary for his treatment
of the relationship of the group’s music to issues of racism and social justice.
Just as they’re on the brink of a major breakthrough by flying from their
unnamed city to New York to appear on “The Tonight Show,” a black teen is shot
18 times by the police following a high-speed chase.
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| Matt Stango, Tay Bass. Photo: Hunter Canning. |
The young man’s goal is later revealed to have been his
urgent desire to reach his ailing grandma at the hospital before she dies. I
leave it to you to consider whether that’s a sufficient reason for endangering other
people’s lives. On the other hand, 18 bullets?
Verb, burning with indignation at the rash of black men
being shot by cops, wants to use the TV appearance to make a statement of support
on behalf of the dead boy. Pinnacle, focused on advancing the group’s commercial
success, fears that such a public criticism will create a harmful backlash.
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| Tay Bass. Photo: Hunter Canning. |
What follows after Verb, on TV, flashes a white t-shirt on
which are written the words “Justice for Jerrod” in red, involves the group’s
often argumentative confrontations with the conflict between its professional aspirations
and its responsibility to the cause of social justice. Friendships are tested,
racial attitudes interrogated, white privilege speared, and the meaning of
success questioned.
Goodwin writes taut, colloquial dialogue that sounds natural
in the mouths of these streetwise, articulate characters. His lyrics, while
sometimes unintelligible when boomed at ear-banging levels through handheld
mics, seem much like conventional rap, and probably won’t disappoint hip-hop
fans, while the music, by Wendell Hanes, likewise feels authentic.
But, to antediluvian ears like mine, telling one hip-hop
song from another is a challenge. And, while I don’t know if what the show
presents as how a hip-hop song is created reflects reality, I can note my surprise at seeing
the music composed on the spot merely by the beat maker pressing a button or two
on a console and everybody accepting the result as perfect. Take that, Cole
Porter!
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| Shakur Tolliver, Matt Stango. Photo: Hunter Canning. |
The music and lyrics aren’t especially memorable (although lovers of such songs may differ) but, in the moment, they’re catchy enough to serve their purpose. In
fact, toward the somewhat forced kumbaya ending, they get the audience on its feet to sing
along. The lights are bright, the audience small, the mics in your face
intrusive, and the pressure to participate enough to get even geezers like me
to fake it.
Hype Man is a smartly
realized showcase for its three charismatic performers. Each seems true to the
world of the play and their individual dreams. And that’s no hype.
OTHER VIEWPOINTS:
Flea Theater/The Pete
20 Thomas St., NYC
Through December 18
