The mysterious underground rumblings you’ve been hearing isn’t the earthquake Californians have long expected. No, these are closer to Broadway, where Jerome Kern, Oscar Hammerstein II, and Edna Ferber are turbulently spinning in their graves. The immediate spinning cause: Target Margin Theater’s production of Show/Boat: A River.
Always remember that in 1927 Kern and Hammerstein adapted Edna Ferber’s 1926 best-seller for the Broadway stage. As Miles Kreuger has pointed out in his definitive Show Boat: The Story of a Classic American Musical, everything about early musicals as developing from operettas to the realization of mature musicals occurred with this property, and everything since has led from it.
Now, 98 years on, the Target Margin folks, under founding artistic director David Herskovits, have determined it’s time for “a classic reimagined.” Why they consider the revered classic needs reimagining is apparently for Target Margin to know and the rest of us to figure out.
Not to delay the ultimate point, this reviewer figures that the motive behind the severely misguided enterprise can be crudely linked to today’s progress of race relations as well as, perhaps more pertinent, the lengthy Show Boat history. Over the decades since the first opening (not to mention activity leading up to that triumphant opening) many hands have tinkered with it.
Indeed, it might be the tinkering inclination has been its own excuse for carrying on tinkering. The issue could have initially arisen with the first word of “Ol’ Man River,” as Hammerstein supplied his lyrics. He used the n-word to describe the large population on the Mississippi and instantly ran into criticism he was obliged to regard seriously: the first male chorus declined to utter the word.
Consequently, he substituted “colored folks” (other versions have been heard since). As years passed, including for revivals like the vaunted 1946 return, industrious teams have added and dropped any number of items. Also, myriad alterations have been introduced by producers and directors for any number of excuses.
When, for instance, Hal Prince, readying a flashy 1994 dust-off, hired Elaine Stritch as the non-singing Cotton Blossom co-proprietor Parthy, he reckoned—as did she—that a solo was called for. Whereupon she got to chant “Why Do I Love You?” to infant and eventual Great White Way headliner Kim Ravenal.
As a result, is there any surprise to Herskovits’s assuming he could take liberties here, there, and everywhere? Thus, something now entitled Show/Boat: A River. If read aloud, the title would be “Show-Slash-Boat: A River,” with “slash” becoming the operative word.
Slash away, Herskovits does—with what promo material describes as “bold.” “Nervy” would be a more accurate adjective. There’s really no need to compare his narrative with Hammerstein’s, the comparison between what’s presented here as different from Hammerstein’s would merely be static.
Much more pertinent is that Herskovits and associates haven’t resisted slashing not only Hammerstein’s book but the irresistible Kern-Hammerstein score. Saving the single best element not for last but first: More than once, tall, robust Alvin Crawford delivers “Ol’ Man River” gravely and graciously.
Copious thanks to Herskovits for that. After all, many would assert—including this reviewer—the impassioned anthem may be the most magnificent ever created for the musical stage. Anything less than a rendition like Crawford’s (following the model Paul Robeson set for posterity) would be unacceptable.
Otherwise, Herskovits’ treatment of the score—certainly intended to honor it—impresses more as dishonor. He thumbs through it with a careless red pencil. What he leaves on the margins will shock any true-hearted Show Boat lover and roundly cheats audience members for whom this is a first introduction to the musical.
What does he offhandedly scrap? Start with Gaylord Ravenal’s entrance, “Where’s the Mate for Me,” which isn’t simply a melancholy paean but a character delineation as it leads into the (retained) “Make Believe” duet with the young Magnolia. Two songs not kept—for which there is precedent—are “I Might Fall Back on You” and “Till Good Luck Comes My Way.
One significant exclusion is “Bill”—music by Jerome Kern and lyrics by P. G Wodehouse, originally written for their Princess Theatre Oh Lady! Lady!! A second is “After the Ball,” the 1891 hit by Charles K. Harris. Yes, both are interpolated, neither by Hammerstein (although he is suspected of altering “Bill”).
Granted, both songs are interpolated, yet they serve important plot points, the first delivered by the sadly inebriated Julie, the second rendered by Magnolia at the audition where she completes the initial step to her a becoming a beloved Broadway headliner. Scratching both amounts to flummoxed surgery. Another missed opportunity is ignoring the poignant “I Have the Room Above Her,” added for the 1936 film.
All the same, Herskovits has the effrontery to insert “Come Back to Me,” music (and his additional lyrics) by musical director Dionne McClain Freeney (with co-musical director Dan Schlosberg). Talk about chutzpah.
Herskovits directs and Caroline Fermin choreographs (such as it is) Show/Boat: A River and its 10-member cast, each assuming many roles. The always reliable Steven Rattazzi as Captain Andy firmly leads Temidayo Amay, Caitlin Nasema Cassidy, Suzanne Darrell, Edwin Joseph, J Molière, Philip Themio Stoddard, Rebbekah Vega-Romero, Stephanie Weeks, and bass-baritone Crawford. They all do their level best, although the level isn’t especially elevated.
At the end of the 2:30-hour day, this River does keep rollin’ without saying much more than nothin’.
Show/Boat: A River opened January 15, 2025, at the NYU Skirball Center and runs through January 26. Tickets and information: nyuskirball.org
