Another feather in the cap for
Herringbone/:
http://thephoenix.com/article_ektid42581.aspxHerringbone in the Berkshires
By CAROLYN CLAY
June 27, 2007 1:24:10 PM
HERRINGBONE , which recently opened the Williamstown Theatre
Festival, looks like the winner of a reality-show challenge to write
the world’s weirdest musical — in this case a one-man song-and-dance show about a Depression-era eight-year-old possessed by the spirit of a malevolent tap-dancing dwarf. The 1982 work, with book by Tom Cone, music by Skip Kennon, and lyrics by Ellen Fitzhugh, has as its narrator a man named for a suit fabric who — in the course of amiably laying out his grotesque life story — plays 10 more parts, frantically hoofing his way through several jumpy musical tours de force. As if he didn’t have enough to do in WTF artistic director Roger Rees’s spirited yet casual staging, he also puts his shoulder to a small platform bearing a pianist and pushes it around the playing space. Indeed, it was a collision of performer and piano that on opening weekend sent Tony winner B.D. Wong — more widely known as Dr. George Huang on Law & Order: SVU — to the hospital for 30 stitches. In addition to bleeding for his art, Wong proved he has talents undreamed of by fans of the TV show.
As Herringbone, he drifts into the WTF Centerstage’s towering black box along with the pianist (who doubles as a deaf-mute manservant), the bassist, and the percussionist who make up the band. Dressed in vest, bow tie, and saddle shoes, he introduces his hard-times history in a song that asks, “What’s life without a window ledge?” And the strange story of young George, his impoverished Alabama family, and the warring ex-vaudevillians who change their lives inevitably leads to just such a precipice. But first the son his parents hope will be their meal ticket is custom-suited in herringbone and taken to a retired entertainer for acting lessons. Somehow the spirit of the teacher’s former vaudeville partner — the amphibian half of an act called the Chicken and the Frog — invades George’s pint-sized body so
he can wreak havoc on the man he blames for his death and realize his own show-biz dream. (“The Chicken and the Frog,” in which body snatcher Lou tells the tale of his hurtling demise, is one of several bravura set pieces, this one utilizing a yellow rubber glove and a green bouncing ball to represent the principals.)
The story is as fantastical and arbitrary as they come. But as a
vehicle for a performer, it’s NASCAR-worthy (and should not be driven by an amateur), providing cheeky vaudeville opportunity, family melodrama, and a big hunk of Sybil. Wong — tenderly interacting with the little suit that stands in for George, defining the male and female characters through precisely mimed gestures, and carrying on interior wars between a Billy Crystal–like Lou and the vulnerable George — gives an extraordinary performance. You know who he is from his facial expression — before he opens his mouth to assert a Southern, sleazy, tough, or tremulous vocal identity. And he almost makes the co-opting of George seem not kinky and ridiculous but tragic. No small feat.
