Sunday, October 25, 2009
A+E, Theater, Reviews

Got Milk?

‘The Harvey Milk Show’ does—but not much

BY BERT OSBORNE

Fittingly, it’s the title character who accidentally articulates the basic flaw of “The Harvey Milk Show,” when, in his last line of dialogue in the musical, he intones, “Lights down on Harvey. Lights up on Jamey.” What Harvey doesn’t realize—how could he, with his first appearance coming a good 20 minutes into his own “Show”?—is that it’s lights up on Jamey from the very opening scene, and while the two of them eventually share the spotlight, at no time is Harvey any more than a co-star. (Imagine the recent film “Milk,” if Diego Luna had as much screen time as Sean Penn.)

Lights up on who? A stock character all the way, Jamey’s a fictional composite lover in “The Harvey Milk Show,” a wholly familiar gay archetype: estranged from his disapproving family, a sheltered Midwestern farm boy wandering the mean streets of San Francisco, sort of a would-be Joe Buck in “Midnight Cowboy” (except he knows who Don Quixote is), who acts tough but still exchanges mushy letters with his kid sister back home.

If you’re wondering what any of this has to do with Harvey Milk, the openly gay San Francisco city councilman who was assassinated in 1978, well, that’s what I first wanted to know in 1991, when Actor’s Express premiered this locally written show (book and lyrics by Dan Pruitt, music by Patrick Hutchison). Addressing it in my original review got me banned from that theater for several years, but history seems to be on my side, based on subsequent reviews of the musical in other cities. (Turns out I’m not the only critic with an aversion to Jamey, but it’s neat to think I was the first: I called it “The Jamey Show” years before that guy in the Washington Post!)

In any event, artistic director Barbara Cole Uterhardt’s current Onstage Atlanta production only exacerbates the whole Jamey problem. That it might be considered an unplayable role, even by the most brilliant performer, does not excuse the poor casting of Bryan Lee, who isn’t remotely that. As devoid as ever of much genuine charisma or presence (in smaller doses from “Torch Song Trilogy,” “Perfect Arrangement,” etc.), the size and demands of this part feel totally beyond Lee’s grasp.

Par for the Onstage course, the company’s interesting choices of material aren’t always matched by its acting or design capabilities (although Uterhardt’s periodic use of screens and shadows is a nice touch here). The show’s other big theatrical device is the character of Mr. Jones, a devil figure constantly peering over the shoulder of assassin Dan White, and yet the role is fairly wasted on the marginal talents of Luis Hernandez, who never conveys any sense of dramatic danger (as a homophobic hate-monger) or satirical finesse (in drag during an Anita Bryant routine).

Although writer Pruitt left Atlanta years ago, composer Hutchison is still here, one of the most steadily employed musical directors in town. In that capacity for this Onstage production, he leads a four-piece band, and works rather well with a moderate ensemble of singers. The score features several memorable tunes, from large chorus numbers (“Some Tomorrow,” “We the People,” the especially effective “Anthem”) to solos by Jamey (“If You’re Here”) and Harvey, too (“Young Man”).

Oh, incidentally: The ever-resourceful Googie Uterhardt (the director’s husband) delivers another customarily dynamic performance in the title role. This well-deserved praise may read like a passing afterthought, but it’s only in keeping with the misguided focus of “his” show itself. SP