To start, let’s make it absolutely clear that Empire isn’t a musicalization of the 2015-20 television series about the hip-hop industry. Nope, not by a single off-rhymed couplet. Instead, an entirely different kind of hip-hop is portrayed.
Rousingly cheered throughout the mostly amusing entertainment – book, music and lyrics by Caroline Sherman and Robert Hull – is the raising (and the sustained political and societal razzing) of the Empire State Building. That’s as carried out under determined former governor Alfred E. Smith, architectural firm Shreve, Lamb and Harmon, and the approximately 3,500 construction workers of all shapes, sizes, and origins who hauled and riveted for a year and 45 days so’s to open the jaw-dropping 102-floor edifice on May 1, 1931. And with few thinking the promised date was even possible.
Neither Richmond Harold Shreve, William F. Lamb nor Arthur Loomis Harmon appear in Empire, but (fictional?) firm architect Charles Kinney (Albert Guerzon) does, as does former governor Al Smith (Paul Salvatoriello), who, having recently been booted from office, is asked by New York financier Jacob J. Raskob (Howard Kaye) to return to active duty by taking charge of the building’s historic emergence.
[Read Melissa Rose Bernardo’s ★★☆☆☆ review here.]
All three mover-shakers are prominent throughout but aren’t at the center of things as recounted here, this despite the now long-established landmark originally designated to be known as the Al Smith Building(!). Creators Sherman and Hull want to tell a much more personal tale.
To that end they focus on Sylvie Lee (Julia Louise Hosack at the performance I saw), who in 1976 discovers papers in a storage room that suggest her Mohawk mother (April Ortiz) was somehow involved with the Empire State Building’s arrival.
Traveling back in time to 1929, Sylvie meets Frances Belle “Wally” Wolodsky (Kaitlyn Davidson), Kinney’s assistant. Wally is also Kinney’s significant other, although there’s friction between them having to do with her, as an empowered 1930s woman, running the place alongside a super-efficient female trio.
As Sylvie and Wally continue connecting, Sherman and Hull go about a history lesson on how the new 350 Fifth Avenue address came to be and who the Empire State Building heroes were. Not so by the way, it’s a timely offering in light of today’s contentious border-crossing issues. The 3500 construction-worker contingent was populated largely by two groups: Irish, Italian, and other immigrants, and what were already recognized as Mohawk “skywalkers” from the Quebec Kahnawake tribe.
As the two acts unfold, what’s slowly revealed is Sylvie’s heritage as the daughter of at least one of those skywalkers and (to avoid a spoiler) perhaps another. Underlined is the initially charged fraternization among the men (and one woman?) on the beams, as eight dancers stand in for the battalions at work. (Fans of Lewis Hines’ photograph of Empire State Building employees lunching high above the City on a beam will recognize what Sherman and Hull are getting at. Incidentally, there is a phone call to Hines in the dialogue.)
It’s a fine notion to honor the dedication underlying the building’s realization, particularly considering the opposition to its appearance at the time. Whereas the structure is venerated today and has been for just short of a century, there were those back then who vigorously fought it. Bags of hate mail descended on Smith daily. Mayor Jimmy Walker (Devon Cortez in an ill-conceived role) tried to halt progress, in large part on behalf of constituent Fifth Avenue socialites who regarded the overwhelming office building as a blight on their tony boulevard. That haughty dismay is represented by a sneering Mrs. Janet Arthur (Kiana Kabeary).
For two acts, Sherman and Hull sketch the tale in a comprehensive manner that, unfortunately, becomes repetitious. Also, there’s the odd digression — why is a cabaret blues singer showcased? — giving the impression the creators are depositing much more than needed on Walt Spangler’s set of a Manhattan superstructure. (Note: The evocative set is, however, more meaningful here than those popping up in so many other recent NYC productions featuring Manhattan superstructures.) Incidentally, Tina McCartney’s period costumes are skillful.
Hardly superfluous to the proceedings, however, is the brief but cogent reference to construction-worker deaths, which was officially reported at the time as five. (According to speculation, suspected deaths rose to as many as 142.)
But even as the Empire book might well be beneficially tightened, the strong-voiced, energetic actors jauntily go about the tuneful songs and occasional songlets, as tidily directed by Cady Huffman and choreographed by Lorna Ventura in this year’s hyper-athletic trend. Stand-out numbers are “Never Say Never,” a proto-feminist pledge for Wally and cohorts, and the spirited “Moxie” for Smith, Raskob, and Kinney, as well as “Lookahee,” with the steelworkers lustily shouting at female passersby. (From as high as floor 102?) These click as well as a ballad fittingly called “Castles in the Air.”
Shortly before closing, Sylvie and Wally maintain “We Were Here,” an anthem celebrating the many-races workers. No one leaving Empire will forget them soon. In that appropriately soaring manner, Sherman and Hull rivet their strong dramatic point
