by Nicholas Whittaker
‘Breath and Imagination’ – Written by Daniel Beaty; Directed by Maurice Emmanuel Parent; Music Director, Asher Denburg; Additonal Music Direction, Doug Gerber; Scenic Design, Baron E. Pugh; Costume Design, Elisabetta Polito; Lighting Design, Aja M. Jackson; Sound Design, David Wilson. Presented by the Front Porch Collective and Lyric Stage Company at 140 Clarendon St. Boston through December 23
In the early movements of Breath and Imagination: The Story of Roland Hayes, a memory by Daniel Beaty, the eponymous character’s mother Angel Mo’ instructs her young son on a sung phrase. Together, they pore over the short phrase, focusing not on the precise notes, but on the spirit of the song, the intricacies of vocal flows and riffs and tone and emotion that characterize the tradition of Black gospel and church music. Together, they transform the phrasing from a mere collection of notes to a song, a deeply felt religious moment of love, joy, and community.
Beaty attempts to evoke a similar emotional intensity and transcendental heights in his narrative of Hayes’ life, but his script and characterizations are often rote and simplistic and overall falls short of his lofty goal. The story shines most brilliantly and deeply when it embraces the powerful emotion of the Black spirituality on which Hayes built his artistic identity.
Fortunately it is a play with music, and Maurice Emmanuel Parent, in his directorial debut for the premier production of the Front Porch Collective he co-founded, has assembled a cast of outstanding performers. Roland Hayes (played by Davron S. Monroe), born in 1887 to former slaves in Georgia, is today known as one of the greatest and most revolutionary Black classical singers of the 20th century, moving from his humble beginnings to international tours and audiences with the British monarchy. The production intersperses the chronological format with snippets of Hayes in 1942 as he waxes on his past, creating a thrillingly fluid narrative that crosscuts time periods. Monroe demonstrates his commanding yet controlled stage presence when portraying an eight-year old boy, devoted adolescent, self-made college student, and distinguished international phenomenon. His vocal performance powerfully captures the combination of rich emotiveness and soaring classical restraint that defines Hayes’ artistry.
The success of Hayes as a character, however, does throw the disappointing underuse of his supporting cast in sharp relief. The cast is certainly well worth their salt. Yewande Odetoyinbo gives thrilling voice to Hayes mother. Her vocal performances, at their best, match Monroe’s, and their duets showcase the tradition of Black communal vocal performance with the power and love it deserves. Doug Gerber and Nile Scott Hawver, as a rotating cast of vocal coaches, racist policemen, and other inhabitants of Hayes’ story, occupy their diverse roles with wit and intense energy, giving each full commitment. But the script refuses to give these characters the room to stand on their own, to become more than bit characters, machinery in Hayes’ story. They are mere deux ex machinas, and their contributions to the plot – Gerber’s benevolence as Hayes’ vocal instructor, or Hawyer’s racism as the police officer, or Angel Mo’s anger and love – are signs not of complex characterizations but of narrative necessity. But as Angel Mo’ reminds Hayes as they transform a vocal phrase into powerful sung prayer, such rote mechanism robs the production of the breath of life it needs to transcend mere history lesson.
Fortunately the talented production team and use of the intimate Lyric Stage help bring the story to life. It is when the team embrace this aliveness, an aliveness specifically demanded by the tradition of Black spirituality and Black church that the production transcends into something powerful. Aja M. Jackson’s lighting work is astonishing, striking the audience as surely as Odetoyinbo or Monroe’s most dexterous and mournful vocal runs. Monroe becomes angelic when lit with deep purples or reds as he sings; stark blues signal the coldness of the police presence; warm yellows seep into Hayes’ childhood days in Georgia. The team makes especially clever use of the lighting to draw the audience deeper into the mise-en-scene; a particularly powerful trick opens the play, foreshadowing the following technical wizardry. Parent’s staging takes full advantage of the Lyric’s adventurous layout: audience aisles, ceiling-height alcoves, and backstage are courageously and effectively utilized. A minimalist but carefully selected costume and set design grants the actors center stage while giving them adequate toys and tools to play with. The decision to incorporate the production’s pianist into the set and narrative is a particularly effective decision, imbuing his impressive work into the scenes with a freshness and assertive presence. As such strategies do a great deal to infuse Breath and Imagination with, to be glib, breath and imagination, one often wishes they were more frequently used.
No moment better displays the appeal of Breath and Imagination then an early scene from Hayes’ youth, a sung church sermon. As the voices of the entire cast meld together in joyous noise, singing spirituals any Black church would know by heart, the house lights (in perhaps the most subtly exciting production choices) come on, granting each audience member a view not only of the stage but of each other, facilitated by the Lyric’s U-shaped seating. The pastor enters the house aisle, Odetoyinbo prompts the audience to clap on rhythm as she begins to dance. The pianist thrums viciously and lovingly on the keys. The audience begins to whoop. And, as caught up in the motions of loud, loving Black religion as I was, Monroe as young Hayes begins to “shout” – not a vocal outburst, but the spastic, jerking, high-on-the-spirit dancing that Black church calls forth from its congregation, a symbol of the Holy Spirit’s presence and a testament to the power of Black spirituality. When Hayes collapses on the ground, exhausted, I too slumped back in my seat. For a brief shining moment, this production took us to church. And while one wishes such moments were more numerous, those that exist are reason enough to attend Breath and Imagination: The Story of Roland Hayes. For tickets and information call the Box Office at 617-585-5678 or go to www.lyricstage.com.
