Porgy and Bess

Audra McDonald and Norm Lewis as Bess and Porgy
Thiscontroversial production comes to Broadway with the baggage of both historicaland contemporary critique.  Firstproduced in the 1930s as a “folk opera” by George and Ira Gershwin, and DuBoseand Dorothy Heyward, this production, directed by Diana Paulus with a revisedbook by Suzan-Lori Parks and Deirdre L. Murray, opened August 17, 2011, at theAmerican Repertory Theatre in Cambridge, where Paulus is the artistic director.
Beforehe’d even seen the production, Stephen Sondheim excoriated the artistic teamfor what he found unethical meddling with the Gershwin’s original work.  But as Hilton Als wrote in a lovely background piece and review for The New Yorker, the “original” was full of racism, an artifact of a moment intheatre history when white people represented their skewed vision of people ofcolor for other white people.  Why in theworld would anyone want to preserve such original intentions for a 21^stcentury audience?
Morethan a bit of sexism surfaced in Sondheim’s argument, too.  Here’s a young white woman director and twotalented women artists of color engaging one of famous narratives of Americanopera and theatre, all with an eye to renovating the central character of Bess,the drug-addicted woman whose desires drive this revision’s plot.  Given this refocusing, Sondheim’s unfortunateobjections might derive from his personal taste and respect for some artistsover others, as well as from his professional investments in preserving thesanctity of the original text.
TheSondheim kerfuffle sent the production to Broadway on a cloud of critique, butfrom my perspective, this Porgy and Bess providesa transformative theatre experience.  Witha simple set by the talented Riccardo Hernandez; unobtrusive but evocative choreographyby Ronald K. Brown; a superb ensemble, each one of whom seems to follow his orher own grounded and nuanced narrative arc; and stage pictures that seemorganic instead of posed, the production offers a thrilling experience at thetheatre.
Hernandezcreates down at the heels Catfish Row, in Charleston, South Carolina, with aone-dimensional curvilinear back drop, all corrugated tin and wooden windowframes through which light (designed by Christopher Akerlind) projects ingeometric patterns that change with the time of the day.  A simple working water pump establishes theoutdoor scenes, and performers bring on wooden chairs and crates to give thestage picture levels and textures.
Yetwith so few props and such a schematic set, Paulus and her actors create awhole world, an African American community of fishermen and washerwomen, oftinkerers and tradespeople, of grifters and preachers, and of good people andbad.  The ensemble moves constantly,providing a living backdrop to the story of Bess and Porgy’s doomedrelationship.
Paulusdraws attention to her stars through their costumes.  Bess (the sublime Audra McDonald) wears a beautiful,bold red dress when she arrives in Catfish Row on the arm of her evillover/procurer, Crown (Phillip Boykin). Costume designer ESosa leaves McDonald’s arms bare and her breasts heavingover the bodice, accentuating her figure with a high slit up the side and barelysupportive straps.  Porgy (Norm Lewis)wears layered, dirty but pure white shirts, which help him stand out among therest.
Bess's red dress makes her the focus of the stage picture
Althoughthe careful design and direction lets spectators track the show’s centralcouple, Paulus embeds Porgy and Bess’s story within a lively, close-knit neighborhoodboth visually and narratively.  Theirsisn’t a singular story, but a relationship aided and abetted by a communitythat’s very protective of its “crippled” friend.
Porgy,hobbled from birth, walks with a stick and a limp, his hips extended awkwardlyand his left leg twisted impossibly.  Hisdisability makes it difficult for him to maneuver more than a few steps withoutbeing offered a seat by one of his neighbors. But Lewis plays Porgy with quiet dignity, not an ounce of self-pity, anda sexy magnetism that makes him the production’s emotional core.
Shortlyafter he and Bess arrive at Catfish Row, Crown murders one of the community’s men.  To avoid prison, Crown hidesout on an island off the coast of Charleston while Bess slowly, hesitantlybegins to embed herself in the domestic life of Catfish Row, forming an awkwardrelationship with Porgy.  When she joinsher new neighbors for a picnic on the island where Crown happens to be hiding,and dallies behind when the others board the boat for home, Crown accosts Bess,insisting that she’s still his woman and that he’ll come for her once he thinksit’s safe.
Boykin as Crown with McDonald as Bess
Ina scene that could easily be played as a rape, Paulus’s direction and McDonald’sterrific acting indicate that although his physical force makes it difficultfor Bess to resist Crown, she’s also attracted by his sexual clarity.  Her desire confuses Bess.  In this production, it’s not her drugaddiction that’s her Achilles heel, though that weakness appears at key momentsto throw her integrity into doubt.  Butit’s Bess’s deep sexuality, her own desire, by which she’s ultimately undone.
InCatfish Row, women are supposed to channel their sexuality into marriage andchild-rearing.  The upstanding, lovingcouple Jake (Joshua Henry) and Clara (Nikki Renée Daniels) represent the idealrelationship, one to which Bess knows she should aspire but can’t quitefigure.
Henry and Daniels as Jake and Clara
She holds Jake and Clara’s new-bornbaby with great wonder and tenderness, staring into its face as though it holdsa secret she wishes she could fathom. And when the couple dies in the hurricane that rocks Catfish Row, Bessinsists that their baby now belongs to her. But exactly this contained and proper domesticity eludes Bess, howevertruly happy she seems in Porgy’s embrace.
Bess experimenting with domesticity
AlthoughPorgy repeatedly scoffs that “no cripple can hold Bess,” he never really seemsto believe it, because the character’s goodness radiates from Lewis’s presencewhether or not he’s speaking.  Lewis’s isa smart, clear, intensely human performance, in which the typical pitfalls ofthe “crippled” character redeeming the “abled” through his unsullied humanity admittedlyis present, but not as salient as it might be. In this revision, his character feels fuller and more fleshed out, and infact, Porgy doesn’t ever really redeem Bess. The typical trope is foiled in ways that help play against thestereotype.
Porgyloves and protects Bess, and finally finds his manhood by killing Crown, whocontinues to appear in their lives like a demon that just won’t die.  After Porgy stabs Crown to death in a stagefight in which they struggle on the ground, the only level at which Porgy mighthave a chance to even the odds against Crown, Porgy struggles to stand anddeclares that he’s now a man.
It’sunfortunate that the disabled Porgy distinguishes himself through violence, andthat his gentler, more domestic masculinity is pitted against Crown’s volatile forcein the first place.  Boykin, as Crown, isa muscular, large, dark-skinned African American man, who presents thecharacter in all his brutal sexuality and contrasts starkly with Porgy’s lessstable physical presence.
Evenafter Porgy kills Crown, theoretically freeing her from the violent man’s hold,Bess is seduced by Sporting Life (played by David Alan Grier as a kind of BenVereen-as-the-Leading-Player-in-Pippinspin-off), who tells her that Porgy will be imprisoned for life and that shebelongs in a big city.  Sporting Life smoothlyurges her toward the boat that’s leaving soon for New York (in another of themusical’s many numbers that became standards in the American repertoire).
David Alan Grier as Sporting Life
Playedby the truly astounding McDonald, Bess’s desires muddle her, pulling her fromone choice to the contradictory next. She clearly feels safe with Porgy, but her blazing sexual heat draws herto danger and to a larger palette on which to paint herself.
Bessnever looks quite comfortable in the cotton shifts in muted prints and softfabrics that signal her acceptance into the quotidian life of Catfish Row.  The image of her lush body presenting itself draped in red in those first scenes always haunts her attempt to be just one of the women, todomesticate herself for her own safety and acceptance.
Nonetheless,this production doesn’t demonize Bess and neither does it leave Porgy broken byher disappearance at the end.  He decideshe’ll follow Bess to New York to win her back.
Whatwill happen after is anyone’s guess, but that future isn’t as important asknowing that both Porgy and Bess have opted to move out into a larger world,one less predictable, perhaps, one less full of love and care andfellow-feeling than the landscape of Catfish Row, but one in whichthey can find bigger, more ennobled versions of themselves in which to live.
That,in itself, is an achievement.
TheFeminist Spectator
Porgyand Bess, Richard Rodgers Theatre, Broadway.