Caroline, or Change: the humble revealed as epic
04 Feb 2020

by Drew Rowsome - Photos by Dahlia Katz

Every so often, I get to experience a work of art that is so moving and so powerfully executed that writing a review seems superfluous. And that is not just an excuse because I was so absorbed that I forgot to take any notes. However, aside from stating that anyone who can see and hear The Musical Stage Company and Obsidian Theatre Company's production of Caroline, or Change should, I will express a few thoughts to justify that statement.

When interviewing Caroline, or Change's director Robert McQueen, he expressed that it was rich and provocative work of art that it was a joy to tackle again "because there's always something new to discover." Caroline, or Change betrays its roots as an opera libretto. Focussing on two families and their dysfunctional dynamics expands, through the subtle (and in the opera tradition: blatant) use of symbols, to encompass the civil rights movement and humanity's failure to communicate across differences that are in reality minor. Tony Kushner's words matter. The word "change" has an obvious double meaning, but that the assassination of JFK can carry equal weight with a dispute over twenty dollars, and that that equal weight can be freighted with a resonance enhancing both, is extraordinary.

The score by Jeanine Tesori (Fun Home) is operatic in its ambitions - motifs and melodies recur and define characters and their relationships - but solidly pop in its execution. She takes a broad palette that lifts and quotes from traditional Broadway as well as sung-through theatre, tin pan alley girl groups, R&B, klezmer, and yes, even opera, while giving it all a fun radio-friendly sheen with gospel roots. It is hauntingly familiar while being utterly original. And seamlessly unified so that intricacies define the theme while supporting and elevating Kushner's words - even the awkward recitative exposition - to a place where form equals function.

To perform this, a stunning cast has been assembled. There is not a weak link in the ensemble. Even the child actors - Moses Aidoo, Evan Lefeuvre and Micah Mensah-Jatoe - are nuanced and, with the assistance of the incredible Vanessa Sears (Mary Poppins, The Wizard of Oz) explode in an exuberant number that not only entertains, but also illustrates the longing for the removal of class and race distinctions with rueful humour. Sears, in a pivotal role, gets to shine many other times including a cathartic finale. Keisha T Fraser, Camille Eanga-Selenge, Samantha Walkes and Alana Hibbert are the slinkiest, sexiest appliances - putting the Beauty and the Beast enchanted household to shame - ever to grace a stage.

Caroline informs the son that the appliances are a gift from god, deadpanning that there is one exception, "The devil made the dryer." Whoever made Stewart Adam McKensy, be it Lucifer or Maytag, has created a riveting voice with astonishing range, wrapped in a sensual eye candy frame. Damien Atkins (Sextet, London Road, Mr Burns, The Gay Heritage Project, We Are Not Alone) underplays the grieving father whose benign neglect becomes a heartbreaking aria of regret and confusion. It is matched by the comic frustration and confusion of the delightful Deborah Hay. But all bow before Measha Brueggergosman, who glides on high, an ethereal presence emanating a voice that is believable as a goddess, as an entire influential celestial planet.

But everything revolves around the titular Caroline. Jully Black makes her theatrical debut in an almost impossible role. Caroline seethes with rage behind an impassive exterior that only cracks with snippets of vocalizing that are incredibly difficult and must be pulled out of thin air. Fortunately Black is blessed with an incredible charisma that cannot be hidden by a maid's uniform and there is a delicious, terrifying tension as the audience anticipates her big number. We all know she can sing. When her 11 o'clock number arrives, it too is impossible. Instead of grabbing onto life or achieving her goal with vocal celebration and defiance, she resigns herself to her self-imposed fate. Black rips the roof off in her self-immolation. And stops the show. The audience, hitherto rapt, explodes.

But the most memorable thing about Caroline, or Change is how intensely moving it is. Be warned, there will tears. Tears of recognition of our own fragile human frailties. Of our historical mistakes. Of the connections we did or didn't make. Of the unexpected shoulders we stand on. Of the humble, the ignored, revealed as epic. For a superfluous review, I have raved considerably without even mention the lush beauty of the intimate setting of the Winter Garden contrasted with the hyper-realistic sprawling and versatile set on which Caroline, or Change unfolds. Or the delicate balance of music and vocals under the meticulous invisible direction of Reza Jacobs (Fun Home, The Wizard of Oz, London Road, Falsettos). An incredible amount of work, love and thought has been lavished on this production, and it shows. And it should not be missed.