STAGE REVIEW : ‘Black Folk in Song’ at Westwood Playhouse

“Black Folk in Song,” at the Westwood Playhouse, is half historical pageant, half gospel revue. The parts don’t fit well together.

There are strong voices in the cast, and occasionally the singing begins to transcend the show’s lowly script. The headliners are Vermettya Royster, formerly of the Clara Ward Singers, and David Whitfield.

Royster’s voice has an on-the-edge quality that can achieve remarkable effects. Whitfield’s voice isn’t quite as distinctive as Royster’s, but he adds a sinuous swing of his shoulders and an impassioned delivery that’s magnetic, in the right circumstances.

These two sing an upbeat version of “God Bless the Child” that crackles with subtle wit and sophistication.

These words cannot be applied to the rest of the production. It has the air of a community talent show, to which director-writer Delilah Williams kept adding more ingredients, more or less at random.

At least Williams attempted to tie the first half of the show together as a musical history of blacks in America. Righteous slaves sing “Kum By Yah,” Harriet Tubman sings “Steal Away,” Sojourner Truth delivers her “Ain’t I a Woman?” speech, and Booker T. Washington, William E.B. DuBois and Marcus Garvey begin to shout at each other about “What the Black Man Needs.”

The history falls apart after that. Narrator Edna Tatum tells us about the joys of summer, “when the livin’ is easy,” followed by a song, “Summer,” that sounds like a blatant imitation of “Summertime.” Black upward mobility in summed up with the theme song of the TV sitcom “The Jeffersons.”

Little musical comedy skits about life in a black congregation are followed by a cluster of half-baked celebrity impersonations, a scene in which parents reminisce about their children, and (out of the blue) “My Country ‘Tis of Thee.” Then, right after this burst of patriotism, is a reenactment of Rosa Parks’ refusal to move to the back of the bus.

Even this most dramatic of the show’s scenes doesn’t pack the punch it should. It’s staged so that Parks is seated next to another black woman, who isn’t even asked to move when a white man boards the bus. On one level, the man’s order for Parks to move appears to be arbitrarily directed against her as an individual, rather than blacks as a group. (In fact, Parks was one of four blacks in the fifth row who were asked to move--and the other three finally moved, when threatened with arrest.)

After that scene, the history again vanishes, except for the general conclusion that it’s God and the church that have held blacks together all these years.

Throughout, narrator Tatum is perched in a booth that visibly overlooks the stage. A gospel radio announcer, Tatum has a smooth Sunday morning sound that sometimes intrudes on the show’s more animated moments. Nowhere is this more apparent than in Whitfield’s introductory rendition of “Without a Song,” during which Tatum recites each line just before Whitfield sings it--as if he can’t remember the words or as if we can’t understand them.

This device might work in a gospel concert, but not in a theater. Williams should give some more thought to the differences between the two arenas; theatrical savvy is conspicuously missing here.

At 10886 Le Conte Ave., Tuesdays through Saturdays at 8 p.m., Sundays at 7:30 p.m., Saturday and Sunday matinees at 3 p.m., indefinitely. Tickets: $19.95-$24.95; (213) 208-5454 or (213) 410-1062.