"She Takes Us Higher"
There were two starbursts last night at the Lunt-Fontanne
Theatre, where Tina: The Tina Turner Musical recently opened. One was created following something that happened about 15 minutes into this rockingly entertaining jukebox musical, which first
wowed audiences last year on London’s West End.
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| Adrienne Warren. All photos: Manuel Harlan. |
At that point, Mars Rucker, the
live-wire playing Alline, Tina’s older sister, was leading Tina through a door
to meet Alline’s friends. Suddenly, Rucker fell to the ground in pain, and everything
stopped as the stage crew came on, headphones in place, to help out.
Was this part of the show? Did Rucker have an accident? The
audience began buzzing in confusion. Having avoided reading any reviews before
seeing the show, I quickly began looking through the digital copy of the script
on my phone. Just as I found the spot where the show had stopped, the stage
manager’s voice was heard, informing us that the show would be temporarily halted and inviting us to use the time to visit the concession stands or bathrooms.
So, it was an accident. I later learned from a friend who’d spoken to an
usher that it was caused when Rucker “banged into the door and tripped and fell
and hurt her back.”
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| Adrienne Warren, Daniel J. Watts. |
It was a half hour before the show resumed. That's when the first
starburst (as opposed to the black hole of the accident) exploded as one of the show’s “swings”—a remarkable
feature of Broadway musical casts—Leandra Ellis-Gaston, stepped in to take
over as Alline and other Rucker roles (as an “Ikette” and ensemble member). Within
a minute or two, it was as if Ellis-Gaston was the original Alline, playing the
role with precisely the same vibrant singing and dancing enthusiasm as the
injured performer, and making not a single misstep for the rest of the evening.
Sometimes shows stop because of audience problems (see my
review of Carousel),
sometimes because of technical glitches, but it’s not uncommon for an actor to be
the cause. A Facebook friend, responding to my “real time” description of the
incident, tells me that, “On Wednesday, I was at Beetlejuice. During Act 2, the
lead actress dropped to her knees, appeared to gag, and then ran offstage in
the middle of a song. The curtain came down, with an announcement about a short
delay—which ended up being almost 15 minutes.”
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| Adrienne Warren, Steven Booth. |
Rucker may have seen stars when they fell, and perhaps some
audience members saw a star (even a shooting one) being born in Ellis-Gaston’s
emergency performance. There’s no question, though, that there was a gigantic starburst when Adrienne Warren appeared in the title role. I'm not given to hyperbole, but Warren gives what
can only be described as one the most indelible musical theatre performances I’ve
seen in seven decades of theatregoing. Her post-curtain encore set is itself so
blazingly bright you may need to watch it through sunglasses.
Tina, for most intents and purposes, is a standard biomusical,
its book—by Katori Hall, with Frank Ketelaar and Kees Prins—telling the life story
of a famous musical performer in an episodic series of vignettes in which songs
from the artist’s repertoire have been inserted where their lyrics and spirit
have an appropriate connection. In some cases, songs from the singer’s playbook
are sung by others in the story. And, of course, the artist usually gets to sing
their biggest hits in fabricated theatrical, concert, or other contexts,
outside of their use as situational responses.
Highlights from Tina Turner’s life,
already dramatized in the 1993 hit movie, What’s
Love Got to Do With It?,
starring Angela Bassett (has it really been 26 years?), are presented in broad
strokes, telling (while taking the usual factual liberties) the familiar tale
of a black girl from rural Nutbush, Tennessee, born Anna May Bullock, who rose
from humble beginnings to become the singing partner (and later, wife) of popular
singer and guitarist Ike
Turner (Daniel J. Watts), leader of the Kings of Rhythm band. This launched
her ascent to such enormous success that she was dubbed the Queen of Rock ‘n
Roll.
However, as in most such rags to riches stories, there are
also riches to rags setbacks. While drugs and alcohol, play a role (by Ike, not
Tina), they are minor issues in a career marred by the philandering Ike’s
physical and emotional abuse, by Jim Crow restrictions,
by friction with a difficult mother (well-played by Dawnn Lewis), and by the
usual conflicts with the business people—in this case, those in the record
industry—who control artists’ careers.
The uplifting part comes when Tina turns it all around, giving
Ike the kick in the balls he deserves, being brutally honest with her dying
mother, restarting her stalled career so that the record producers come
crawling to her rather than she to them, and, although raised a Baptist, her even
finding spiritual peace in Buddhism (chanting Namu Myōho Renge Kyō). When
romance, with a German marketing executive, Erwin Bach (David Jennings), blooms,
you can’t help admiring Tina Turner not only as a remarkable entertainer but for
what she did with her life.
Phyllida Lloyd’s rapid-paced direction is enhanced by the
vivid choreography of Anthony Van Laast, much of it inspired by the flashy movements
of backup singers. The multiple scenes move swiftly on Mark Thompson’s conventional set via units
sent spinning on a turntable, sliding on and off, or rising and falling, as numerous
projections—mainly of colorfully abstract images—designed by Jeff Sugg cover
the rear wall. Bruno Poet provides the brilliant lighting pizazz required,
especially in the big production numbers. And the costumes, by set designer Thompson,
capture not only the look of the changing time periods, but perfectly replicate
the unique Tina Turner performance look.
But let me cut to the chase: Tina’s book is by-the-numbers
show biz melodrama, sometimes clumsily obvious, but consistently entertaining
none the less. It’s filled with outstanding performances, with noteworthy
contributions by all the supporting players, most memorably Skye
Dakota Turner, the hugely gifted, powerfully voiced, sweet-faced 10-year-old
who plays Tina as a child.
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| Adrienne Warren and company. |
But the overwhelmingly most persuasive reason to see Tina: The
Tina Turner Musical is Adrienne Warren. Her role is so demanding that it’s
taken on Wednesday and Saturday matinees by Nkeki Obi-Melekwe, who, I’m sure, gives
a terrific performance. Absent my seeing her, I can only comment on the
indescribably glowing performance of Warren, who is clearly destined for a Tony
nomination.
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| Adrienne Warren and company. |
Wikipedia says that “a star shines due to thermonuclear fusion of hydrogen into helium in its core, releasing energy that traverses the star’s interior and then radiates into outer space.” If any those words could be applied to a stage performer,
first in line would be Adrienne Warren. She fuses the helium of beauty,
physical fitness, dancing talent, acting ability, and personal appeal with the
hydrogen of a voice every bit as awesomely powerful and expressive as that of
the Queen herself to produce enough energy to light up not only the Lunt-Fontanne
but the Great White Way itself, should the power ever go out.
When she sings such house-rockers as “I Want to Take You
Higher,” “Proud Mary,” “Private Dancer,” “River Deep—Mountain High,” “What’s Love Got to Do With It,” and
others, especially when dressed in classic, sequined, fringed, Turner minidress,
and that iconic Turner mane of golden hair, you can bet that her star power traverses
her interior and radiates into outer space.
Lunt-Fontanne Theatre
205 W. 46th St., NYC
Open run
