Review: Lackawanna Blues
Theater is subjective — there are those who immerse themselves in the musical entities of Rent, Hairspray, and Westside Story;those who only see independent productions of Shakespeare whilst sipping a cheap bottle of pinot noir; and those who insist on seeing acclaimed Broadway classics every time they come to town. It is difficult to assess the artistry behind a production and force one’s opinion onto it, dissecting a rare creature with unexplored organs, attempting to reach some sort of consensus of “good vs. bad.” And though each audience member at a production is drawn to different elements, one thing can be agreed upon: there is no denying the talent of a raw, emotional, and relatable playwright. Lackawanna Blues possesses a certain nature that is able to reach a vast audience with its humor, diversity, and aching tale of love for a family member.
Ruben Santiago-Hudson premiered Lackawanna Blues off-Broadwayin 2001 in New York City. The roman a clef is also directed and performed by Santiago-Hudson himself; the play traverses a world long gone in mid-century New York when Santiago-Hudson was placed under the care of his grandmother, a caring woman who looked after anyone who needed her. The play is simple, muted, and an excellent execution of a solo show. It never feels as though Santiago-Hudson is preaching or soliloquizing, but rather gathering his friends around for an endearing tale of his grandmother and the characters who shaped his upbringing.
I was a bit ambivalent as I entered the theater and followed the rounded edges to my seat, having a preconceived (albeit sans reference) notion of the mundanity, cheapness, and overacting that was sure to make up a one-man show. My ambivalence did not falter the first fifteen minutes or so — the show begins fast-paced, Santiago-Hudson speaking quickly and in several different accents and voices. I was not able to follow the storyline closely in the beginning, but I was pleasantly surprised to see a second body on stage: a blues guitarist with a wide-brimmed hat pulled down over his eyes, his silhouette reminiscent of circa 1930s bluesmen holding their solid bodied guitars in a rickety wooden chair. The plus-one introduced a transportive dynamic and added depth to the stage. His guitar playing was sparse and acted mostly as a “call and response” sort of accompaniment, guided by Santiago-Hudson’s storytelling.
The voices and dialects continued to converse with themselves, Santiago-Hudson’s body simply a host for their interactions. Then, I finally understood: This was a man attempting to portray a multitude of characters by experimenting with dialect and pitch. As Santiago-Hudson began detailing how he came to live with his grandmother, whom was endearingly referred to as “Nanny” by those close to her, the storyline quickly came out from the shadows. My ambivalence faded and I became fully immersed in the plight of Nanny and Ruben and all of the characters who impacted them. I was in complete awe at how many voices he could take on — women, men, black, white, well-to-do, linguistically challenged — and how quickly he could take the tone from light-hearted to deeply devastating. My eyes welled with tears more than once, and a burst of laughter was sure to dry them soon after with Santiago-Hudson’s perfectly placed relief of humor.
The play was a beautiful blending of storytelling and music, the guitar accompanying his stories and playing along with his intonations. Alongside the guitar, Santiago-Hudson himself shocked the audience with soulful harmonica solos that truly brought the New York blues of the 1950s and 1960s to the modern day. Santiago-Hudson, under the guise of one of his characters, also belted out a beautifully haunting song about murder and punishment, a song that sends chills down the audience’s back and then, in true Santiago-Hudson fashion, quickly makes a loud caw of laughter leave the audience, not letting his viewers bask in one emotion for too long.
The minimalist set was well done — a New York-style building takes precedence behind the performer, a coat rack along with a wooden table and chair his only props. The muted nature of the play was complemented by this mise en scene much more than an elaborate set and endless props and costume changes would have — here was an average man sharing his story and not needing much else to tell it other than his voice and some wild gestures and dances. Santiago-Hudson left his audience thoroughly impressed and affectionately moved as he brought his show to an end with a mournful last harmonica bit and the inevitable ending of Nanny’s tale. As the audience stood to bestow upon the playwright a thunderous standing ovation, he stood humbly, proudly, and gratefully to accept his praise. A show well done.
Lackawanna Blues changed my perception of one-man shows and made me interested in seeing what other playwrights have done with this base. It is no simple feat to command an audience’s attention all by oneself and maintain that attention without a single falter, a disrupting cough, or a slow-moving elder needing to squeeze across rows. A silent, immersed audience glued to their seats is testament enough to the gripping quality the play possesses. Ruben Santiago-Hudson is a phenomenal playwright and proves that the best stories are the ones we cannot make up.
