Friday, October 3, 2008

Theater review part deux: The Color Purple

By Arnold Wayne Jones of Dallas Voice

THIS JOINT IS JUMPIN’: Shug Avery (Angela Robinson) can really “Push Da Button” of Celie — if only we saw more of that.

Ideally, musical theater should be like bran cereal: good and good for you! Do your job well enough, and the benefits manifest themselves naturally.

But the musical adaptation of The Color Purple, which runs throughout the State Fair courtesy of Dallas Summer Musicals, can feel almost medicinal in its quest to move you. While it succeeds on some levels — many of the performances are top-notch — I also found myself getting drowsy when I should feel pumped up.

Based more on the 1985 movie than Alice Walker’s 1982 novel, it’s the story of Celie (Jeannette Bayardelle), a 14-year-old married off to a brutal man called Mister (Rufus Bonds Jr.) in 1909 Georgia. Mister treats Celie like a mule; he’s really in love with Shug (Angela Robinson), a sultry cabaret singer who blows into town like a sexy cyclone, setting men’s libidos on edge.

But, also, Celie’s. She is as turned on by Shug as anyone, and to her delight, the bisexual Shug reciprocates. If “The Color Purple” were fueled by their “Boston marriage” (lovingly and matter-of-factly portrayed), it would be more focused, more intense.

But the sweeping storyline rambles over 40 years and two continents; when Act 1 ends, it sort of resembles Dreamgirls via Tobacco Road; immediately after intermission, it returns as The Lion King.

While often listless, The Color Purple does have jolts of energy, owing mainly to a few performances. As Sofia (the Oprah Winfrey role in the film), Felicia P. Fields’ entrance in Act 1 is the first sign of real energy, which she carries through with comic brilliance (starting with the anthem “Hell, No!” until the lurid duet “Any Little Thing”).

Robinson makes a compelling juke-joint singer on “Push Da Button” and a beautiful balladeer on “Too Beautiful for Words,” but the real singing chops belong to Bayardelle, whose scorching voice is enough to make you overlook the Music Hall’s appalling sound system. Her 11 o’clock number “I’m Here” outshines even the gorgeous sets.

Problem is, there’s so much more to wade through until then. The Color Purple has much to recommend it; it’s just tangled among too much bran cereal.

(Editor's note: John Garcia from The Column also reviewed The Color Purple earlier this week.)

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