Billie Holiday is onstage dwindling before our eyes, struggling to sustain the fire that brought her to this moment. She’s already told her audience, “You can only get to where you’re at by way of where you’ve been,” and this iconic performer has been to hell and back — whorehouses, prison, addiction, heartache — but she’s still here, barely.
The Billie Holiday portrayed in Lanie Robertson’s Lady Day at Emerson’s Bar & Grill comprises a fascinating, tragic triple image, a performance of a performer performing the role of someone who isn’t still messed up on heroin.
Declaring herself “the new Billie,” Lady Day enters prepared to bare her soul. It’s 1959, and at this point in her turbulent life and career, her troubles have become infamous — she has nothing left to hide. Yet, she still tries damn hard to fool us, and perhaps herself.
Old habits die hard, especially for an addict, and Holiday is caught between confessing her sins and covering up her vices, a tension that animates Reginald L. Douglas’s gripping production of Lady Day that opens Mosaic Theater’s 10th anniversary season.
That spiraling tension rides on the performance of Roz White, a vocal powerhouse who impresses with her dramatic take on the role, as Holiday performs at this South Philly nightspot in what might be her last ever live show. Registering vulnerability and grit, humor, sadness, and stubbornness, White’s Lady Day commands the room with songs and stories.
Backed by her band — a trio led by music director William Knowles on piano — Holiday performs hits from her catalog while constantly digressing into tales of her past, like her stint in prison, and multiple marriages and divorces. Being in Philly brings back memories, she says. She and Emerson’s have history.
The production’s immersive presentation, transforming the theater into Emerson’s Bar & Grill, evokes a room with history. Scenic designer Nadir Bey’s brick wall backdrop sets us inside a basement blues bar, an intimate nightclub filled with table seating surrounded by plush banquettes, the whole house bathed in the amber of Jesse Belsky’s lighting.
When White is burning up a number like “Gimme a Pigfoot (And a Bottle of Beer),” one could forget this isn’t an actual nightclub show. White doesn’t really sound like Holiday — she’s more brassy than honey smooth — but handily conveys the mood and meaning of the songs, as in the shift to regret and reflection in “God Bless the Child,” or the melancholy in a snippet of “Foolin’ Myself.”
White glides more surely through the mix of styles and tempos than the band, which sounds stiff at times, like they’re having a hard time staying as loose as Lady Day. Of course, at a certain point, Holiday really loosens up with an offstage hit of heroin that slowly sinks her into a stupor, resulting in some of White’s most arresting work.
Carefully underplaying as Holiday gets sloppier on the stuff, White delivers a believably stoned run through “T’ain’t Nobody’s Business If I Do,” the song Holiday claims as her total philosophy. To the end, the legend vows to live defiantly, a self-proclaimed jazz singer who channels the blues with a passion that pierces the darkness.
Lady Day at Emerson’s Grill (★★★☆☆) runs through Oct. 13 at the Atlas Performing Arts Center, 1333 H St. NE. Tickets are $42 to $80, with discount options for each performance. Call 202-399-7993, ext. 2 or visit www.mosaictheater.org.
Oh! If only we could trade in real-world troubles for the confectionery town of Schmigadoon. Granted, we're not sure exactly where it is, nor do we have a clue as to why everyone is dressed in prairie dresses, Edwardian suits, or chore coats. And sure, it's problematic that there will be an auction at the social where women are auctioned off for a date. "Somehow we're ok with this," the townspeople sing in winking fashion. There is so much mystery around this fantastical place that has just landed on Broadway.
What we do know is that most of the residents in the town are cheerful, jaunty, squeaky clean, and they can't stop singing about, well, anything and everything. And by the final curtain, even cynics who loathe musicals will exit the Nederlander Theatre with elation, humming the tunes and buzzing with joy.
In an already storied career on stage and screen, Claybourne Elder has earned Grammy, SAG, and Drama Desk Award nominations, sung with symphony orchestras and Broadway divas, and soloed at Carnegie Hall.
Yet, the performer, known for theater roles on and off Broadway, and as the ill-fated John Adams on HBO's The Gilded Age, had never released a solo album, until now, with his sparkling debut If the Stars Were Mine. The question for some might be, if not necessarily what took so long, why now?
"I think that there have been several times I'd thought about doing it," Elder tells me during a relaxed chat over Zoom. "And I was like, 'Oh, no. I mean, who wants to listen to it?' The kind of imposter syndrome gets to you, and you're like, 'Well, I don't want to.'" There's also the challenge, he acknowledges, of working out what you might want to say over an album's worth of songs.
Following closely in the wake of courtroom drama Inherit the Wind, Arena opens the forum of its in-the-round Fichandler Stage to another heated debate on the nature of humanity, among other things, in Christoper Chen's The Motion.
A new play by Obie Award-winning writer Chen, The Motion may someday prove to have the lasting cultural impact of Jerome Lawrence and Robert Edwin Lee's 70-year-old courtroom drama. For now, audiences can weigh its impact nightly, enjoying this gripping production, staged by Arena artistic director Hana S. Sharif.
Sharif uses the space fluently for what begins as a straightforward two-on-two debate between scholars arguing either side of a hot-button bio-ethical issue. Seated at a table in one corner, Dr. Alan James (Barzin Akhavan) and Professor Lily Chan (Peregrine Teng Heard) face-off against Dr. Sarah Matthis (Nikkole Salter) and Professor Neal Bharara (Nehal Joshi), in the opposite corner.
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