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- <text id=89TT0392>
- <title>
- Feb. 06, 1989: Gorgeous Fun, But Not Funky
- </title>
- <history>
- TIME--The Weekly Newsmagazine--1989
- Feb. 06, 1989 Armed America
- </history>
- <article>
- <source>Time Magazine</source>
- <hdr>
- THEATER, Page 80
- Gorgeous Fun, but Not Funky
- </hdr><body>
- <p>By William A. Henry III
- </p>
- <qt> <l>BLACK AND BLUE</l>
- <l>Conceived by Claudio Segovia and Hector Orezzoli</l>
- </qt>
- <p> Infuse a 1940s Harlem nightclub act with a Busby Berkeley
- film's lavish budget, elbow room and staging style, restrain
- the raunch and remove the racial bitterness. The result: Black
- and Blue, the sumptuously spectacular $5 million revue that
- opened last week on Broadway. If Fred and Ginger had been black
- and still able to live in that elegant fantasy world, their
- shows might have looked a lot like this: rows of tap dancers in
- tailcoats or scarlet evening gowns; vast sets like lacquered
- jewel boxes gliding across the floor and opening to reveal a
- kick line; a singer in a swing, wearing a cloak that billows 18
- ft. down to the floor.
- </p>
- <p> Is the experience authentic? Can the blues be legitimately
- sung for 2 1/2 hours with barely a glimmer of rage or pain?
- Would W.C. Handy and Fats Waller recognize anything except their
- own music? In truth, not much that is funky survives the
- onslaught of feathers and sequins. During I Can't Give You
- Anything but Love, a song about poverty, the stage is aswirl
- with what looks like gold and diamonds. The title number, which
- was wrenchingly performed this season in Ain't Misbehavin', is
- used here to bring on a choral stomp. Almost perversely, the
- blues, an art rooted in specific American history, is
- methodically detached from its context, as if the past were so
- much soil to be brushed from the roots of an ornamental shrub
- destined for transplant.
- </p>
- <p> Yet as a showcase for remarkable performers and the visual
- panache of its creators, Claudio Segovia and Hector Orezzoli
- (Tango Argentino, Flamenco Puro), this is gorgeous and joyous
- entertainment. And in its reverence for veteran talents, the
- kind who have bounced from headlining to working as kitchen help
- and back again, the show is faithful to the folkloric traditions
- of tap, jazz and blues.
- </p>
- <p> Ruth Brown, who can still shout down the rafters in St.
- Louis Blues, shows her kittenish side and trademark mock anger
- in the double entendre If I Can't Sell It, I'll Keep Sittin' on
- It. Her husky, lisping Body and Soul, however, comes off as a
- Carol Channing impersonation. Linda Hopkins, a 1972 Tony winner
- (Inner City), finds dignity in Come Sunday but loses it in her
- gleeful giggling about wife beating in T'aint Nobody's Bizness
- if I Do. While Carrie Smith displays a howitzer voice in I Want
- a Big Butter and Egg Man, she overdecorates the end of Am I Blue
- and dissipates the emotional payoff. All three, given their
- ample proportions, should have questioned the white feathered
- dresses for the finale that make them look like ostriches with
- glandular problems.
- </p>
- <p> The dancing opens with a traditional tap challenge, each
- man showing his best stuff in turn. Savion Glover, 15, who
- enacted The Tap Dance Kid on Broadway in 1983, is predictably
- upstaged by such snowy-haired hoofers as Bunny Briggs, Lon
- Chaney and Ralph Brown. Glover reappears in a breakneck
- gymnastic number, hopping up and down stairs, while his elders
- return in slow, sentimental sequences to demonstrate the
- traditional tap presumption that less can be more. That is in
- contrast to the basic notion of Black and Blue, which seems to
- be that more is more. Yet in the understated moments when the
- stage is all but bare save for a performer at home with his
- craft, the show attains magic that could satisfy the haut monde
- and Harlem alike.
- </p>
-
- </body></article>
- </text>
-
-