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At the Alliance: ‘Moe’ is quite a show
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
THEATER REVIEW: “Five Guys Named Moe.” Through June 5.
The first rule of minimalism, “Less is Moe,” does not apply. Not when you have audience-participation conga lines, danced to the beat of “Push Ka Pi Shi Pie,” and a giant bunch of bananas descending from the rafters to crown the head of an actor in a Carmen Miranda costume.
If you find yourself in a theater with a momentary memory lapse over the next few weeks, just look around. If there’s confetti falling from the ceiling, a buff man on a bar in a state of undress or a group of guys singing a novelty tune, you’re probably in Alliance Theatre’s buoyant new production of the Louis Jordan musical revue, “Five Guys Named Moe.”
Who says the tale of sadsack booze case Nomax and the five Moes who emerge from his radio to change his life can’t be a theatrical piñata full of razzle-dazzle surprises? Director Kent Gash, never shy about turning limp dish rags into prancing petticoats, has transformed Clarke Peters’ 1992 musical into the equivalent of a Las Vegas floor show, with a shimmering image of the Eiffel Tower, a falsetto-squawking chicken - even roller skates.
All of which makes for a giddy evening of exuberant choreography, outsize performances and superb interpretations of the Jordan songbook. But all the flashing lights and clowning can’t disguise the fact that “Five Moes” is a featherlight story based on a collection of tunes that feel more manufactured than authentic.
Fusing jazz, swing, bebop and blues, Jordan’s music has echoes of minstrelsy, R&B and early rock. But judging from this show at least, his gifts of humor and rhythm were greater than his ability to pen an enduring pop standard. Aside from “Is You Is Or Is You Ain’t My Baby” and “Don’t Let the Sun Catch You Crying,” what else is there?
Well, there’s “I Like Them Fat Like That,” which Little Moe (Joe Wilson Jr.) turns into an almost grotesque confession of lip-smacking carnal desire. The batchelor’s anthem “Safe, Sane and Single.” The alcoholics’ credo, “What’s the Use of Getting Sober?” The night-owl’s lament, “There Ain’t Nobody Here But Us Chickens.” And so on.
Peters’ trick was to turn these songs into a storyline, such as it is, centering on Nomax (Jahi Kearse), who’s down in his cups and unlucky in love. Listening to his radio after an all-night binge, Nomax is visited by a fantastical group of Moes (who costume designer Alvin Perry has outfitted with sartorial flashiness). They are the voices in his head, brothers from another dimension, who will use Jordan’s punchy pick-me-ups to rescue Nomax’s lost soul.
In the spectacular Broadway style that’s an Alliance trademark, the first Moe rises on a hydraulic lift from a trapdoor in a puff of smoke - Nomax’s first clue that something strange and magical is happening. Pretty soon, set designer Emily Jean Beck transforms Nomax’s ho-hum living room into Paris, then a glitzy New York street corner and, finally, the delightfully named Funky Butt Club, at which point Darryl G. Ivey’s terrific six-piece orchestra glides into full view. By turns soft and pretty, or disconcertingly disco, William H. Grant III’s lighting uses color to move the story along.
However tepid my response to “Moe,” I must admit that the performers, the musicianship and Gash’s choreography are all top-notch. Rogelio Douglas Jr. (Four-Eyed Moe) has a silky-smooth voice, is a wonderfully agile hoofer and gets to wear yellow-feathered bloomers, a pink negligee and strut like a chicken. Duane Martin Foster (Eat Moe) is a handsome singer with a quietly quirky physical style.
You can guess Raun Ruffin’s character by the size of his cigar: Big Moe. Wilson (Little Moe), who appeared in Gash’s “Topdog/Underdog” earlier this season, is the resident stooge who gets to don roller skates, wear a fruit basket on his head and host the “Saturday Night Fish Fry.” He’s the one performer that you can’t stop looking at.
Finally, there’s Nomax, who Kearse imbues with a refreshingly natural style. Nomax is flummoxed by the proceedings, and who wouldn’t be, but Kearse refrains from turning him into a cowering buffoon.
After producing the Broadway-bound “The Color Purple” and a powerhouse telling of “Topdog/Underdog,” and inaugurating its national playwriting competition, the Alliance has sprung into a decidedly frothy mode with “Shear Madness” and the Jordan musical. The latter ain’t my cup of “Moe.” But that doesn’t mean it won’t be a big hit.
THE VERDICT: A spectacular trifle.
THE 411: 8 p.m. Tuesdays-Saturdays; 2:30 Saturdays-Sundays; 7:30 p.m. Sundays. $20-$50. Through June 5. Alliance Theatre, 1280 Peachtree St. N.E., Atlanta. 404-733-5000, www.alliancetheatre.org.
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By Rose W. Boyter
May 16, 2005 9:26 AM | Link to this
It was a spectacular show that made my day. The dancing and the scenic developments was a night well spent.