THE TITLE SAYS IT ALL

The most unfortunate thing about The Unfortunates is that a lot of talent (five writers, actually), having spent three years developing this new hybrid-musical, lacked a leader who could teach them how to tell a story. The show, directed by Shana Cooper and choreographed by Tiffany Rachelle Stewart, is consistently fascinating in staging and execution, but hardly any of the songs (which have repetitive choruses) are self-contained or land and stick. The whole point of songs in a musical is that they are meant to heighten aspects of the story, but when a story is as slight as this one, the songs feel superfluous.

The problems began at curtain: Had I not glanced at the program, I would never have known that we are in some kind of “prisoner-of-war camp.” The dark, cartoonish, Brechtian atmosphere speaks anything but reality, yet that’s exactly what the creators want us to think we are seeing. One by one, prisoners are grabbed by a tall, stylized, sinister presence wearing sunglasses and a long, leather coat, and taken offstage to be shot. The prisoners are either sick or stoic as they softly sing sections of the famous standard “The St. James Infirmary Blues,” and defiantly slam their own fists into their chests twice, which looked like a ghettoized version of “Be Proud” or “Hold Your Ground” or something to that effect.

Suddenly we are thrown into a “shanty town” (again, from the program), and denizens of King Jesse’s Kingdom appear. There are birds (rooks) that look like a cross between Heckle and Jeckle and Spy Vs. Spy; an armless chanteuse whose father has died of “plague”; a gambling man with giant hands; a prostitute; a mad scientist-like doctor; and more. The idea is to take “The St. James Infirmary Blues” and cull from its lyrics a fable about the power of music to heal. But after 90 minutes, we feel cheated because there really is no story. And whatever story there is (the man with huge fists is in love with the armless singer during a plague during – I dunno – the 20s?) feels as if a wad of really cool ideas had been flung against a wall and the audience has to watch them slowly dribble down into a pile of unrealized dreams.

The show is a slew of ingredients: Allusions and metaphors are tossed in with blues, hip-hop and jazz, written mostly by musicians who clearly have a great love for American music. The Unfortunates is born of a generation that has much to say, but still hasn’t figured out the best way to say it. So what we end up with is part concert, part play, part musical and pure American goulash which reeks of self-importance (the four original creators are in the show). What exactly is the job of dramaturg Lue Morgan Douthit (who is also Director of Literary Development at OSF)? It’s staggering to watch so many characters dying of plague and not care – but how could we? We don’t know who anyone is.

Far and away, the most successful song of the night is called “St. James Oasis” (or so I believe; there is no song list). In it, a ghoulish doctor (played by the superb Ramiz Monsef, one of the creators), explains how he duped those with plague that he promised to help. It has a quirky melody, moves the plot along, and helps to define character. You would be hard-pressed to find that in other areas of the show.

So, take away the great band (Casey Hurt, Jesse Baldwin, Mike Fitch, Joseph Porto), Sibyl Wickersheimer’s gorgeous set with hydraulic lifts, Katherine O’Neill’s whimsical costumes, Jiyoun Chang’s inventive lighting, the distinctive voice of Christina Acosta Robinson (as Roxy Boom Boom, another character with no back story), the mind-boggling antics of Jon Beavers, Rodney Gardiner and Barret O’Brien (as the zany, scurrilous, jiving rooks) and truly beautiful staging and clever dancing, and we simply have no there there. How unfortunate.

photos by Jenny Graham

The Unfortunates
Oregon Shakespeare Festival in Ashland
scheduled to end on November 2, 2013
for tickets, call 800.219.8161 or visit http://www.osfashland.com