A narrator is often a clunky mechanism for pushing a play forward, but in this European premiere of the Tony Award-winning rock musical Passing Strange, it serves to quickly establish the atmosphere of a live gig. With a stage strewn with instruments and a gaggle of (im)patient backing singers awaiting their star turn, right from the off we’re foisted into the sort of intimate, spontaneous space in which anything could happen.
A beautiful as well as bitter rock musical, forcing us to face big philosophical questions
The Young Vic auditorium proved the perfect venue for this punky musical. It has a fierce reputation for fresh, youthful, energetic work and its shared bench seating and broad, open stage spin the whole story out as a shared experience. The actors even come stomping into the audience on several occasions.
Directed by Liesl Tommy (Aretha Franklin biopic Respect, Tony nominated Eclipsed), with book and lyrics by Stew and music by Stew Stewart and Heidi Rodewald, this Pippin-esque story follows a young middle class black songwriter from LA and his quest to find himself. In his search for his place in the world he meanders through complex episodes of interaction with curious subcultures, from his pot-smoking church choir leader who dreams of discovering Giovanni’s Room, to hippies in Amsterdam and art revolutionaries in Berlin, the ensemble play a wide cast. And everything is picked over with searing reflection and commentary by his prowling older self, the Narrator, played by Olivier Award-winner Giles Terera (Hamilton).
It was interesting seeing Europe othered as the exotic, a transgressive place where our protagonist can explore new versions of himself and seek inspiration. I especially enjoyed the portrayal of Amsterdam, set up hilariously as a haven of dope smoking nudists, professors who are part time sex workers and free love enthusiasts. But alongside the humour was heart. A song exploring the profound impact of a simple, trusting act of lending someone your keys was genuinely moving.
The Mother, played with rich empathy by Rachel Adedji, not only had a great singing voice but also had two speaking voices, as she code switched between ‘negro church voice’ and standard American. This early joke proved a lasting metaphor within a story that is essentially asking which parts of us are real and which performative, which truth and which art.
The pounding rock tunes had a fierce narrative power but became a bit samey as they blended keyboards, guitars and drums. For me the stand out song was The Black One, a Kander and Ebb style cabaret number which ironically juxtaposed jaunty musicality with bitter and brutal observations about the reality of being the only black person at a predominantly white gathering. It featured a dazzling tap dance duet which was at once brilliantly entertaining and also drenched in a history of black stereotype and exploitation.
Overall, a beautiful as well as bitter musical, forcing us to face big philosophical questions about the nature of truth as a construct and the reality of pain.
