“The Broadway Musical Is in Trouble,” the New York Times declared. The usual suspects are blamed against the backdrop of a threatened strike on the Great White Way: a shrunken post-pandemic audience, skyrocketing costs, stagnant ticket prices, labor costs. Etc. While most of the old faithfuls remain expensive new ones like Boop! went poop, and production is down. Just two originals are opening on the main stem before year’s end. Things are so bleak around Times Square Andrew Lloyd Webber has taken reimaginings of Cats and Phantom downtown, for more “immersive,” party-like stagings.
But wherever they go Cats (which will return to Broadway in “Jellicle Ball” form) and Phantom are still Cats and Phantom, with all the work the tired and middle-aged get. The bloom of youth on the burgeoning Off Broadway scene is exhibited by Saturday Church, at New York Theatre Workshop, and Mexodus, an Audible Theater presentation at the Minetta Lane.
Damon Cardasis’ low-budget movie Saturday Church (2017) tells the story of troubled New York teen Ulysses, who is wrestling with his homosexuality. His hard-working mom, the widowed Amara, is a perpetually absent and stressed-out nurse who has little time for her bullied son. His formidable Aunt Rose, a stern churchgoer, has no time for her nephew’s “flouncy” tendencies and is constantly after him. Adrift at home Ulysses gravitates toward the different kind of uplift and spirituality offered by Saturday Church, which the filmmaker based on a real church-based program that assists and shelters LGBTQ youth. He finds new friends in the gay and transsexual Ebony, Dijon, and Heaven, plus a possible love interest in the streetwise, homeless Raymond, and explores the physically and emotionally freeing world of voguing while keeping up appearances for his mom and aunt. Inevitably his two worlds collide.
Earnest and sincere Saturday Church is a sort of musical, with a few songs that express Ulysses’ innermost longings. It came and went (I’d never heard of it; it’s streaming) but Cardasis clearly saw greater potential that could be brought out. The theater gods smiled upon him and, presto, his little movie has been reborn into fabulousness, with a glittering cast of contributors: Sia adding her songbook to his originals, with Honey Dijon pitching in; Pulitzer winner James Ijames (Fat Ham) penning the book and additional lyrics; and Tony-nominated Whitney White (Jaja’s African Hair Braiding) directing. Most glamorous of all is the star power of the gracefully all-that Tony winner J. Harrison Ghee (Some Like it Hot) in two roles, as an upright pastor and no less than Black Jesus, exhorting us to embrace what’s in store and advising Ulysses in song, dance, and amazing costumes by Qween Jean.
And so the homely, homey Saturday Church is now a swan, with Sia’s spangly music and Darrell Grand Moultrie’s vivid choreography offsetting the central melodrama with Ulysses (Bryson Battle), Amara (Kristolyn Lloyd), and Aunt Rose (Joaquina Kalukango, also a Tony winner, in a less scintillating part than Ghee’s). Ijames hasn’t sorted that out (why Rose is more of a mother to Ulysses than Amara is a mystery; Amara and Ebony meet and connect in the unlikeliest way possible; and there’s some business involving a cellphone that’s left hanging) but Battle is an appealing lead and sassy Ebony (B Noel Thomas), Dijon (Caleb Quezon), and Heaven (Anania) add humor and warmth. Though the temptations and dangers of the street lurk in the shadows of David Zinn’s purple-colored set (defined by Adam Honoré’s bold lighting) it’s all kind of hokey and uplifting. But the kids I saw it with the night I attended seemed to appreciate a musical that’s hokey and uplifting and tailored for them, and rooted for Ulysses and Raymond (Jackson Kanawha Perry). Black Jesus will of course work miracles of reconciliation by the end, inviting us all to share in “collective love, joy, and healing” as Battle pridefully struts and Ghee, who changes costumes from scene to scene when not in pastor garb, regularly raises the roof. They make you believe in Saturday Church.
Pretend that I know nothing about the southwestern spur of the Underground Railroad, which brought thousands of slaves to Mexico from 1829 to 1865. Ok, I knew nothing about it, not until I saw Mexodus, a brash and lively show written and performed by Brian Quijada and Nygel D. Robinson and costarring dozens of instruments, which are studded throughout Riw Rakkulchon’s set. From the mists of time the pair have fashioned a musical that can’t help but speak to our own, in an ingenious way that fuses past and present.
In the past we meet Henry (Robinson), an escaped slave who has been badly beaten, and Carlos (Quijada), a Mexican farmer toiling at the border. They bicker about an America that has treated them poorly as their friendship develops but perhaps better days are ahead. Since the Civil War (illustrated by Johnny Moreno’s projections) things have improved but liberty and freedom are still somewhat illusory for Nygel and Brian. “Liberation in this nation is still being confronted/when Black and Brown bodies continue to be hunted,” they sing.
That’s powerfully uncomfortable. But Mexodus isn’t a dirge, or too overbearing a history lesson. Under David Mendizábal’s smooth direction it’s a party of two onstage, as they pluck drums, guitars, amps and much more from the Southwestern-styled studio set and jam. Everything is live-looped and staged and performed in the moment, making for an exciting and unpredictable show. (The instruments sometimes serve a dual purpose, as when Henry and Carlos use their guitars to mimic shovels in a graveyard.) Mikhail Fiksel is credited with the sound design and looping architecture, which play a vital role in shaping the beats. You may hear your own voice at the end, blended with your audience’s, should you choose to lend it to the final, impassioned song that reminds of us are shared responsibility and duty to one another as the American experiment lurches on.
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