The Gershwins' Porgy
and Bess at the Richard Rodgers Theater
George and Ira Gershwin, authors of such theater as Oh, Kay!, Of Thee I Sing, and Lady Be Good, and of such singles as “Embraceable You” and “I Got Rhythm,” most famously composed, along with playwriting team DuBose and Dorothy Heyward (DuBose wrote the novel Porgy, and he and his wife wrote the straight play that would later be adapted by the Gershwins to the 1935 opera), Porgy and Bess. The non-operatic musical version made its return to Broadway last August. And why shouldn’t it? It has always been my firm belief that the appeal of any musical—and, indeed, any show—should be its creative team and not its cast (except on rare occasions when the two work perfectly together), and this production certainly takes that to heart, as the stylized name you’ll see on the marquee isn’t Porgy and Bess but The Gershwins’ Porgy and Bess.
The Gershwins were that rare phenomenon—a Gilbert and Sullivan; a Kander and Ebb; or any other duo: a match so perfect they would seem to be made in heaven. And for that team to be brothers is even rarer. George and Ira worked better with each other than anyone else, and when George Gershwin died of a brain tumor two years after Porgy and Bess’s debut, at the age of 39, Ira and his lyrics were never the same. That syncopation is evident in this production, where the less than inspiring cast allows you to look past stage presence and into the heart of the music. While it would be easy to blame the production for its faults, more easily than the classic show, I have to mention that when DuBose Heyward contributed his lyrics to George’s jazz-inspired score, as he did in songs including “My Man’s Gone Now,” “What You Want With Bess,” and “Oh, Doctor Jesus,” the result is lackluster. The rhyme scheme, when there is one, is sparse and ill-placed, and you can tell DuBose is much more comfortable writing novels and plays, where he can say whatever he likes without worrying about his cadence. What you notice are numbers like “I Got Plenty o’ Nuttin’” and especially “It Ain’t Necessarily So,” a song with some of the best lyrics in musical theater, and, it must be noted, the most accurate explanation of religion ever written. Is it coincidence that these songs had lyrics by Ira Gershwin? I think not.
But the Heywards’ lyrical contributions aren’t my only beef with this opera. Though I was thoroughly impressed by the performances of most of the male leads, including Norm Lewis as a dedicated Porgy, Joshua Henry as Jake, Philip Boykin as the possessive murderer Crown, and especially David Alan Grier as Sportin’ Life (whose smile brightens and step becomes lighter during “It Ain’t Necessarily So,” as if he too can tell it’ll be the best part), I was less blown away by the females. Bess (Audra McDonald) and Serena (Bryonha Marie Parham), to name two of the offenders, are more suited to classical opera than they are Broadway, as evidenced by their operatic beltings of some of the Heywards’ more mundane numbers. Whatever it is they’re saying is unintelligible beneath their doubtlessly beautiful voices. This is an opera that was written to be heard, not to impress. The music is most of the story, and McDonald and Parham can’t help but detract from that. What’s more, McDonald seems nervous and jumpy throughout, as if something more than Crown and the drug dealer Sportin’ Life is stalking her, and we can’t get behind her character because we can’t seem to figure out what she wants.
Don’t misunderstand. All in all, Porgy and Bess was a success (excuse my rhyme, Mr. Heyward), despite being stripped down by a new trio of editors (director Diane Paulus, playwright Suzan-Lori Parks, and composer Diedre L. Murray) and losing most of the greatest parts of its score. But it's only made it so far, and achieved whatever success it has, in my mind or those of the public, because it’s a Gershwin musical, and it can’t help but succeed. If you’re headed to the Richard Rodgers Theater, do it because of the thing the producers are counting on to bring in sales, the element that’s printed the largest on Porgy and Bess’s monochrome posters: the Gershwins.
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