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Theatre Journal 55.2 (2003) 343-345



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Harlem Song. By George C. Wolfe; original music, arrangements, and music supervision by Zane Mark and Daryl Waters. Apollo Theater, New York. 9 September 2002.
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Heady civic ambitions are behind Wolfe's newest theatrical enterprise. The musical extravaganza Harlem Song looks to catalyze an ongoing economic revitalization by luring investments, resources, and [End Page 343] audiences to Harlem's 125th Street area. (An official Harlem Song Concierge can even facilitate transportation, sightseeing, dining, and post-performance arrangements for visitors.) Yet as it courts the attentions of the entire New York region, Wolfe's production also speaks directly to Harlem about Harlem: using the faces, imagery, words, and rhythms from its streets. Its multimedia theatrical collage revisits a century of Harlem history by interspersing photos, film footage, and personal testimonials within an assortment of song-and-dance sketches. The work is equal parts history lesson, musical retrospective, neighborhood love letter, light-hearted caricature, and local pep rally—offering an engaging and witty portrait of Harlem's past and a hopeful challenge for its future.

But Harlem Song's aspirations go beyond the local economy. With this undertaking, Wolfe continues his quest for a dramatic form that might transcend the rift that has historically divided the African American theatre against itself. Generations of integration-minded black artists and intellectuals—looking to address social concerns in a way that will gain acceptance beyond the black community—have distanced themselves from the popular but less rarified African American performance traditions of vaudeville, the music hall, the chitlin' circuit, and other variety entertainments. (Harlem Song lovingly parodies one such group of aesthetes,in the Harlem Renaissance romp "Doin' the Niggerati Rag.") Just as he did in The Colored Museum and Bring in 'da Noise/Bring in 'da Funk, Wolfe embraces and exploits a legacy of revue-styled performance. Not only can such a framework offer sundry diversions; Wolfe demonstrates how the revue format might be deployed with seriousness—to challenge, confront, and inspire audiences of all backgrounds. Harlem Song is not exactly Wolfe's most profound creation; it is more sumptuous and self-indulgent than either The Colored Museum or Noise/Funk. Still, in its best moments, the production sizzles both as toe-tapping amusement and potent social exploration.

Harlem's social history is Wolfe's subject, and Harlem's musical history becomes the means for its expression. Zane Mark and Daryl Waters's score is a jukebox of swing, jazz, blues, soul, gospel, and hip-hop numbers; each style fuses naturally with an episode depicting its era. A 1930s bread-line occupant sings of Great Depression desperation with "The Hungry Blues"; political leaders and activists channel the post-war call for social change in the protest anthem "Time is Winding Up"; a trio of 1950s recording artists sing the international acclaim of their era's musicians through a lively and syncopated "Uptown Jazzmen." In one imaginative [End Page 344] expansion on Harlem's demographics, the influx of Hispanic immigrants emerges through a Spanish language, salsa-infused treatment of "Take the 'A' Train." The songs, testimonials, and sparse dialogue of Harlem Song provide a spectrum of outlooks that includes parody, pragmatism, protest, celebration, and rose-colored nostalgia, all to the constant accompaniment of Harlem's diverse musical styles.

As director, Wolfe depends heavily on the talents of three virtuosic performers. The multitalented Queen Esther is deliciously grand as Miss Nightingale, an excessively dressed socialite in touch with the uptown in-crowd. B.J. Crosby's velvety vocals repeatedly bring down the house, especially in the saucy, irreverent "For Sale." David St. Louis brings electricity to many numbers, including the 1940s ballad of wartime discontent, "A Fable of Rage in the Key of Jive." Surrounding this trio is a versatile ensemble, which performs Ken Robertson's athletic choreography with staggering energy. Paul Tazewell's flamboyant costumes, Riccardo Hernandez's automated mobile sets, and the complex projection design of Robin Silvestri provide lavish, high-gloss visuals. Wolfe revels in the theatrical options available to him, and takes obvious delight in finding ways to showcase the abundant...

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