Jesus had Godspell, and Socrates now has The Hang. Or at least, that’s what popped into my mind about ten minutes into the explosion of color, song and thought that is Taylor Mac’s latest queer-eye view into the legacy of history and the breadth of community.
That’s not to say you should expect to eventually see Hang performed on a middle school stage—or on Broadway, for that matter, where Mac enjoyed a triumphant debut a few years back with Gary: A Sequel to Titus Andronicus. Though shorter in length and smaller in scale than that play—not to mention Mac’s Pulitzer-shortlisted opus, A 24-Decade History of Popular Music—Hang is similarly extravagant, bawdy (if not nearly as gory as Gary) and challenging, packed with jokes and insights that can occasionally, in this case, seem strained in their cleverness. As usual, though, Mac is less interested in cerebral bombast than in thoroughly satiating our souls and senses.
To that end, Mac has enlisted two longtime conspirators, costume and scenic designer Machine Dazzle and musician and composer Matt Ray, who provides the score to accompany Mac’s libretto. Hang is an opera, you see, with elements of everything from carnival to cabaret in its presentation. Ray’s music—by turns lush and cool, eerie and exuberant—nods to Kurt Weill, Burt Bacharach, calypso and a whole lotta jazz; I’m no expert in that genre, but I detected influences from Dave Brubeck to Ornette Coleman, New Orleans funeral fare to neo-soul.
Dazzle’s set suggests Ancient Greece as reimagined by the production designer for The Wizard of Oz, with input from a ball culture expert or two. We are apparently supposed to be inside Socrates’s body; the white fabric hanging over the proscenium, for instance, represents his rib cage. Where in Godspell, a group of clowns heed and eventually mourn their leader, Mac’s Socrates—the performer and playwright adopts both roles here—is followed by a posse of “Radical Fairies” in a ritual commemorating the philosopher’s trial and death. Dazzle has them decked out appropriately, in fabulous, brightly colored robes and scarves with neon accents, and the designer’s signature botanical flourishes. A number of fairies wear flowers or floral patterns, and a few appear to be sprouting branches or bearing fruit.
At first, all wail loudly over the hero’s impending doom, but Socrates, resplendent in violet and lavender with neon-green swatches, implores them to “desist this great harangue,” insisting that his only wish for his last day on earth “is to talk on virtue and hang.” As they do, digging into contradictions and hypocrisies, Plato—the show’s Judas, essentially—hovers nearby, a comically stern figure in starchy white, talking trash about Aristophanes, the boogeyman in Apology, Plato’s Socratic dialogue tracing his mentor’s attempt to defend himself against charges of corruption. In the show’s rather prolonged ending sequence—the last half hour, while gorgeous and deeply affecting, could use a bit of editing—Mac and Ryan Chittaphong, as Plato, touchingly evoke the complicated relationship between teacher and pupil.
Under Niegel Smith’s direction, with lyrical choreography by Chanon Judson, the other company members acquire showcases for their lavish gifts. Kat Edmonson and Queen Esther are standouts, for their piquant and sultry singing, as is Kenneth Ard, a vocalist and dancer of sinuous, soulful dexterity. The musicians get to join in the pageantry, particularly the horn players who mingle with the actors, sporting robes and wraps in deeper, earthier hues—burgundy, beige, dark blue and green—but seeming just as frolicsome.
As the ceremony is supposed to scan centuries, there are wittily anachronistic flourishes, among them one song titled “Okay Boomer” and another, “The Best Little Court Day in Years,” ostensibly delivered by Noel Coward. At a time when self-restraint and simple good taste can seem in desperately short supply, Mac continues to be that rare artist who proves that sometimes too much is exactly enough.
The Hang opened January 23, 2022, at HERE and runs through March 6. Tickets and information: here.org
