COLOR ME DISAPPOINTED
I came to see the Goodman Theatre’s current production of The Color Purple with a complicated history. I devoured Alice Walker’s novel three times as a callow teenager and recoiled from Spielberg’s 1985 Disneyfied cinematic adaptation, abandoning the VHS midway through. Since then, The Color Purple has been adapted into a Broadway musical (2005), re-revived (2015), and spun into a new movie-musical. Yet this Goodman production, which opened last night, marked my first real encounter with the stage version. I wanted to be hopeful. Turns out that Spielberg, for all his glossy Americana, still managed to handle the story with style. The musical lacks even that. This adaptation of Walker’s seminal novel—an epistolary, symbol-rich portrait of generational trauma and resilience within the Black community—sands down its grit in favor of gospel uplift and sentimentality. Despite powerhouse vocalists and high production polish, the musical—directed by Lili-Anne Brown—seems terrified of its own source material.
Lachrisa Grandberry, Brittney Mack, Ariya Hawkins and Aerie Williams
The story, which takes place over 40 years, begins with Celie, a Black girl in the rural South in 1910 who survives unspeakable abuse at the hands of the man she believes is her father, only to be married off to Mister, another tyrant. Her only connection to love is through her sister Nettie, who escapes to Africa as a missionary. Left behind, Celie finds herself increasingly isolated—until she is slowly transformed by the women around her. Chief among them are Sofia, who refuses to be broken by any man or system, and Shug Avery, a confident, sensual blues singer whose arrival upends Celie’s sense of self and sparks her first experience of romantic love.
Instead of grounding the story in the emotional weight of Celie’s world, the show kicks off with a revivalist-style Greek chorus of Church Ladies who chirp, sass, and undercut any sense of gravity. It feels more Ain’t Misbehavin’ than Alice Walker.
Brittney Mack and Shantel Renee Cribbs
The score, by pop and R&B artists Brenda Russell, Stephen Bray, and Allee Willis, never quite coalesces. None of the three had written a musical before this one and it shows. The styles bounce from blues to gospel to eighties R&B to African chants, but rarely settle long enough to register as character-driven. The songs range from bring-the-house-down ensemble numbers to maudlin ballads—occasionally with a dash of empowerment—with nothing in between (the former were more to my taste than the latter; your mileage may vary). Particularly painful is a love duet between Celie and Shug—it’s indistinct at best, excruciating at worst. The result of the score is that it feels chaotic and unfocused.
Aerie Williams and Brittney Mack
I was not expecting the grittiness of the novel to show up here; this is a big, brash musical after all. I was however expecting at least some attempt to integrate the pathos of the story into it. The book by Marsha Norman skips detail in favor of broad-strokes storytelling, reducing major moments to emotional thumbnails. Early on, Celie’s second child is stolen by the same man who raped and impregnated her—a scene that should devastate. Instead, it’s accompanied by a soft gospel tune called “Somebody Gonna Love You,” which floats by without consequence. One of the most horrific revelations in the story is so underperformed that it barely registers before we’re swept into the next big number. As such, the recurring issue is that quiet scenes—treated as narrative toll booths—feel like filler and falls flat.
Aerie Williams; (back) Brittney Mack, Eric A. Lewis, Juwon Tyrel Perry, Shantel Renee Cribbs,
Aalon Daeja Smith, Michael Earvin Martin, Jos N. Banks, Sharriese Hamilton, Ariya Hawkins
Vocally, the cast is superb. Brittney Mack gives Celie emotional shape, especially in the second act when the character gains agency. Nicole Michelle Haskins, taking MVP status, nearly walks away with the show as the ferocious, unbowed Sofia. As Shug, Aerie Williams shines in “Push Da Button”—my favorite musical moment in the show—but the rest of her performance is bafflingly muted. Shug is meant to be a spiritual cyclone. Here, she registers as little more than a summer breeze. There is zero sexual chemistry between Mack and Williams, and as I said, their big love duet is a damp squib (and possibly the worst song in the show). One doesn’t expect the explicit eroticism from the source material to show up in a crowd-pleasing musical but one does expect something slightly more intense than a couple of chaste kisses that wouldn’t pass muster on the Disney channel. This is not a subtle show and Shug is not a subtle character (even in the book, she’s larger than life). It’s hard to imagine even the downtrodden Celie of the first act being besotted by this Shug, let alone the stronger-willed Celie of the second. Honestly, a romance between Celie and Sofia would’ve made more sense.
(back row left) Reneisha Jenkins, Lachrisa Grandberry and Sharriese Hamilton;
(front row left) Evan Tyrone Martin, Aerie Williams, Brittney Mack, Curtis Bannister,
Eric A. Lewis; (Center) Nicole Michelle Haskins and Gilbert Domally;
(back row right) Shantel Renee Cribbs, Aalon Daeja Smith and Michael Earvin Martin;
(front row right) Jos N. Banks, Ariya Hawkins, Sean Blake and Daryn Whitney Harrell
As for the men, they’re fantastic when they’re singing, but when the singing stops, that’s when things go wrong. With the exception of Jos N. Banks as Shug’s husband, Grady, let’s just say I cringed every time they spoke and exhaled relief when they sang. The production is so focused on maximizing every number that it fails to realize that the bits in between are just as important and it gives me no pleasure whatsoever to say that the non-musical moments are almost all terrible.
Juwon Tyrel Perry, Sean Blake, Ariya Hawkins, Eric A. Lewis, Curtis Bannister,
Lachrisa Grandberry, Aalon Daeja Smith, Reneisha Jenkins, Sharriese Hamilton,
Nicole Michelle Haskins, Gilbert Domally, Jos N. Banks, Daryn Whitney Harrell
Along with Brown’s fluid and confident staging, the design elements are beyond reproach: the set (Arnel Sanciano) is elegant and eye-catching, and the lighting (Heather Gilbert) and projection (Commendatore and Johnson) work beautifully to depict the changing locations and passing time. Choreography (Breon Arzell), orchestra (Music Director Jermaine Hill), everything is on point.
But technical finesse can’t hide a fundamental hollowness. This is a musical afraid to upset its audience, smoothing over trauma and sanding down rage. Walker’s novel carries the emotional weight of inherited abuse, survival, and identity. This version seems more concerned with keeping things palatable. In doing so, it strips the story of its defiance.
(front) Shantel Renee Cribbs, Brittney Mack, (center) Curtis Bannister, Sharriese Hamilton,
Eric A. Lewis, Juwon Tyrel Perry, Sean Blake, Jos N. Banks, Aalon Daeja Smith,
Lachrisa Grandberry, Daryn Whitney Harrell and Michael Earvin Martin
And yet, it’s not a contradiction to say that despite my misgivings I still enjoyed parts of The Color Purple. It’s hard not to get swept up in the energy of the crowd and the emotion of the songs, especially when expertly rendered by supremely talented vocalists as they are here. But once the euphoria and climactic swell of Celie’s octave-busting final anthem wore off, I found myself mildly irritated. Once the lights came up, it occurred to me that the roar of applause followed a number about subservience and domestic abuse. Everyone was beaming. That, more than anything, stuck with me.
photos by Liz Lauren
The Color Purple
Goodman Theatre’s Albert Theatre, 170 North Dearborn
ends on to August 3, 2025
for tickets ($25-$130; subject to change), call 312.443.3800 or visit Goodman Theatre
for more shows, visit Theatre in Chicago
