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‘Purlie’ still is breaking all the rules

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Special to The Times

A few simple rules before we begin, shall we?

Rule 1: Satire doesn’t sell. “Satire,” as George S. Kaufman pithily informed us, “is what closes on Saturday night.”

For the record:

12:00 a.m. July 14, 2005 For The Record
Los Angeles Times Thursday July 14, 2005 Home Edition Main News Part A Page 2 National Desk 0 inches; 27 words Type of Material: Correction
“Purlie” -- A review of the musical “Purlie” in Friday’s Calendar section gave the wrong phone number for the Pasadena Playhouse. The correct number is (626) 356-7529.

Rule 2: Satire doesn’t age well. Think of Aristophanes, the great Greek comic playwright of classical times, whose satirical plays always seem passed over for the more accessible, if not exactly cheery, “Oedipus.”

Finally, Rule 3: If there’s one thing tougher to pull off than satire, it’s musical satire.

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Thus, Sheldon Epps, artistic director of the Pasadena Playhouse, hereby receives the award for breaking the rules of commercial production by reviving “Purlie,” the mostly forgotten musical satire about civil rights that had a relatively successful Broadway run about 35 years ago.

And, you know what?

All in all, more power to him.

Sure, the show is absurdly out of date. It creaks and groans with age, in part because it was never especially well built to begin with. “Purlie” is a relic from some obscure archeological Broadway dig, too un-pretty to be the lasting museum piece that its shiny predecessor “Hair” has become.

But it fascinates because it’s bold, entertaining and not at all easy to digest.

The musical is based on a play, “Purlie Victorious,” written by actor and civil rights activist Ossie Davis, who died this year. This production is dedicated to his memory, and he’s quoted in the program, explaining: “The purpose of ‘Purlie’ is to point a mocking finger at racial segregation and laugh it out of existence.”

And mock it certainly does.

This is a musical in which the white owner of a cotton plantation in 1960s Georgia, rotund and dressed for an old-style Kentucky Fried Chicken commercial, educates his Bob Dylan-inspired son about the way of the world with the song “Big Fish, Little Fish.” Big fish, he explains, eat the little fish, and the little fish eat the littler fish: “That’s the way it goes / Everybody knows / That’s the way it’s always been / And how it’s gotta be.”

This tune -- so catchy, so pleasing, so darn simple it veritably rings with a Sesame Street-like truth -- is used by Ol’ Cap’n Cotchipee (Lyle Kanouse) to justify his system of ripping off his black workers and using the occasional bullwhip when mere persuasion won’t suffice.

Sing along, everyone!

And if that seems bold, you should see the black characters. It’s as if Davis set out to create a whole cast based on Butterfly McQueen’s Prissy in “Gone With the Wind.”

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Lutiebelle Gussie Mae Jenkins (Paulette Ivory) is the oh-so-pretty, ultra-obedient housemaid from Alabama, perky but dim. Aunt Missy (Loretta Devine) is all happy-go-lucky, and Gitlow (Harrison White) is the epitome of an Uncle Tom -- and a coward to boot: “What’s wrong with running?” he asks. “It emancipated more people than Abe Lincoln ever did.”

Even Purlie (Jacques C. Smith) is not exactly a typical hero. The Rev. Purlie Victorious Judson has noble plans to buy the old church and lead a New Freedom congregation. He rails against the clutches of Cotchipee and swears to fight for freedom and the respect his race deserves.

Although he may mean it, he’s also part con man, a theatrical figure in line with Falstaff and Harold Hill who has his own interests at heart. He schemes to get his church by planning to have Lutiebelle pose as a dead relative who is due $500 from Cotchipee. Cotchipee won’t know the difference, he insists. To white folks, all the colored look alike.

Davis, above all, was an artist, and he knew there is power -- and comedy -- in saying what you’re not “supposed” to say, putting on stage characters you’re not “supposed” to replicate. Political correctness is antithetical to satire.

And he knew these roles would be a heap of fun to play. Watching Gitlow kissing up to Cotchipee turns out to be more fun than I ever would have imagined. And nobody commands the stage more effectively than Devine.

The fantastic support is important too, because Smith’s Purlie is a bit problematic. Epps tries a stylistic strategy in which he keeps Purlie on the realistic side, likely thinking he’d be the one the audience could care about amid all the stereotypes. What happens instead is that we end up caring more about the others. Smith is charismatic enough, but his Purlie is a bit over-complicated, at least in satirical terms.

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Gary Geld’s score -- a mix of gospel, pop, and rhythm and blues out of the ‘70s -- evokes quaint nostalgia more often than roof-raising power, although it certainly has high moments, and musical director Ronald “Rahn” Coleman keeps it lively. “Purlie” is troublesome in part because its head and its heart often move in different directions. Its head may be with the revolutionary, but the heart of Geld and lyricist Peter Udell’s songs lies with Lutiebelle’s love for her man. “I Got Love” became a star turn for Melba Moore on Broadway, and Ivory makes a lot of it here.

In Epps’ staging, though, the showstopper is something of a surprise: a powerful blues duet between Purlie and Aunt Missy, “Down Home.” Shockingly serious, potent, revealing, the song doesn’t so much advance the story as provide something deeper. If you’re asking why these characters and those they represent didn’t leave for more liberal pastures, the answer is found in the song’s conclusive love for the South, where, at the very least, there’s a sense of belonging.

The show, which heads from here to Chicago, looks great, particularly James Leonard Joy’s pastel-colored set -- as if Van Gogh had painted cotton candy. And choreographer Kenneth Lee Roberson does a remarkable job of creating movement that’s at once self-conscious, a touch silly, yet not corny.

There are lots of competing impulses in “Purlie,” and Epps doesn’t resolve them all. But what he does do is keep it light. Satire might have something to say, but if it doesn’t make you laugh, then its point is pointless.

*

‘Purlie’

Where: Pasadena Playhouse, 39 S. El Molino Ave., Pasadena

When: 8 p.m. Tuesdays through Fridays, 5 and 9 p.m. Saturdays, 2 and 7 p.m. Sundays

Ends: Aug. 7

Price: $37 to $53

Contact: (626) 356-7259, www.pasadenaplayhouse.org

Running Time: 2 hours, 30 minutes

Jacques C. Smith...Purlie Victorious Judson

E. Faye Butler...Idella Landy

Paulette Ivory...Lutiebelle Gussie Mae Jenkins

Loretta Devine...Aunt Missy Judson

Harrison White...Gitlow Judson

Billy Gill...Charlie Cotchipee

Lyle Kanouse...Ol’Cap’n Cotchipee

Based on the play “Purlie Victorious” by Ossie Davis. Directed by Sheldon Epps. Music by Gary Geld. Lyrics by Peter Udell. Book by Ossie Davis, Philip Rose and Peter Udell. Musical direction by Ronald Coleman. Sets by James Leonard Joy. Costumes by Paul Tazewell. Lighting by Allan Lee Hughes. Sound by Frederick W. Boot. Production stage manager Conwell Sellars Worthington III. A co-production of the Pasadena Playhouse and the Goodman Theatre.

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