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Published on 7/23/08
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To read the critics, Passing Strange has an identity problem; that’s natural in a show that obsessively anatomizes “the real.” The work, the brainchild of singer-songwriter-star Stew, is basically an eclectic concept album with narration, using downtown presentational techniques on a stylish, abstract set. The psychedelic-funk-pop score rocks, the cast is incredible, the book and lyrics are wittily provocative. But, pundits and show mavens wonder, Is it a Musical? It’s a silly question. Right now there’s a refreshing lack of uniformity on the Great White Way, a lively mixtape of post-punk, salsa and Sondheim. Superficially, Passing Strange may seem exotic, but that’s just a pose.
Surface and substance are constantly placed in opposition throughout this coming-of-age fable about a Youth (Daniel Breaker), who feels alienated from his black, middle-class L.A. environment—he’s “passing” for black. Although last year’s premiere at the Public Theater didn’t thrill me, somehow now the show comes across as brasher, bigger, more transgressive. Context is everything.
What hasn’t changed is the slightly diminishing returns of the second act, in which the Youth goes to Berlin, adopts a performance-art pose as a ghetto survivor, and becomes more estranged from his loving yet insular mother. But this narrative thinness can be forgiven in light of the panache with which Stew juggles complex ideas. The only other show on Broadway right now that rivals Passing Strange’s conceptual dexterity is Sunday in the Park with George. Normally, you don’t go to Broadway to wrestle with notions of authenticity, identity formation and internalized ideology; in that sense, this terrific hybrid is truly strange.
—David Cote
