That voice of God filling the basement theatre at Lincoln Middle—you recognize it in addition to that of your individual mom. The glottal high quality, the vowel dilation. It belongs to Whoopi Goldberg, who, in a prerecorded message, coaxed the matinée viewers at “The Whoopi Monologues,” an upbeat reimagining of her one-woman present from the early nineteen-eighties, into silencing their telephones. The viewers was delighted to be coaxed, delighted to listen to from Goldberg herself. The proscenium at “The Monologues” could be very skinny; sitting among the many crowd—which, to my eye, consisted predominantly of girls of their sixties and seventies—the environment of memory was thick.
Earlier than it was known as “The Whoopi Monologues,” it was “Whoopi Goldberg,” and earlier than that it was “The Spook Present.” There have been 4 outlandish, outcast characters, whom Goldberg completely embodied with one thing as slight because the crossing of her eyes or the dragging of her leg. Performing through the distress of the Reagan years, Goldberg had imagined the characters as spooks, after Sam Greenlee’s C.I.A. satire “The Spook Who Sat by the Door.” She wished her multiracial, hip viewers to really feel, as their laughter dried out, haunted, spied on. Goldberg, this dark-skinned girl born Caryn Elaine Johnson, was a fixture of downtown Manhattan, then, when it was nonetheless downtown. The director Mike Nichols, along with his godfather contact, seeing that Goldberg was the long run, introduced her from the Dance Theatre Workshop to Broadway, the place “The Spook Present” was rechristened “Whoopi Goldberg.” That manufacturing was the seed of her Hollywood stardom, which this revival now frames because the supply of one thing matrilineal, handed down to 2 generations of Black actresses.
How else to course of the prospers that the director, Whitney White, has added to the starkness of the unique monologues? 5 performers meet onstage after that presiding voice dissipates, as if summoned by it. They are often right here as a result of she was right here, an evolution story. They’re huddled collectively subsequent to the actress Kerry Washington (whose firm, alongside Goldberg’s, produced the present, in partnership with Lincoln Middle Theatre), and so we start to suppose she would possibly function a sort of metaphysical host of the Whoopi cabaret. However as shortly because the actresses merge they disperse, every boxing themselves away in a person dressing-room set, a reference to the credit for the HBO adaptation of the particular. The meta-host thought, which I assumed was compelling, by no means returns.
“The Monologues” is fascinating, in a single sense, as a result of it permits Goldberg the playwright to face as separate from Goldberg the performer, who’s so totalizing as to be an eclipse. As a monologuist, Goldberg compelled standup and theatre to the touch, to pollute one another; in splitting into Fontaine, Blonde Woman, Surfer Woman, Jamaican Girl, and, in an anniversary present put up within the early two-thousands, Lurleen, she rocked the strong floor of the “self” that we count on from a comedic performer. White and her great solid, which she typically assembles in a formation that remembers stagings of Ntozake Shange’s choreopoem “for coloured ladies who’ve thought of suicide / when the rainbow is enuf,” can’t re-create that splitting, or a rigidity almost as pointed, and so what we get as a substitute are entertaining character interpretations that by no means cross into the psychological.
Kara Younger, because the hood thinker Fontaine, begins the present. Goldberg had given Fontaine an addict’s hunch; a eager, mistrustful stare; a shit-talking rhythm of speech that made you consider the loping, digressive model of Richard Pryor, with whom he shares a favourite phrase: “Motherfucker.” The twist in his monologue, which is about a lifetime of petty theft and a flight (each literal, to Amsterdam, and summary), is that he has a “Ph.D. I can’t do shit with, so I keep excessive so I don’t get mad.” Younger is in contrast to another stage performer I’ve seen. She replicates Goldberg’s crowdwork however she doesn’t attempt to hit Goldberg’s beats, which wouldn’t make an excessive amount of cultural sense anymore, anyway. She transforms Fontaine’s extroversion, turning the monologue into one thing like a tragicomic soliloquy. Fontaine finally ends up on the Anne Frank Home, the place he reacts to the cussed optimism of youngsters—who nonetheless consider within the elementary goodness of the world “it doesn’t matter what you do” to them—with an anguished awe. However I bought the sensation that there was one thing misplaced in Younger’s transmission to the viewers, like everybody thought they caught the ball she’d volleyed; as a substitute, it was spinning beneath the seats. Fontaine is a determine of Reagan-era social neglect, however he’s additionally Goldberg’s important character (she reprised him in a stand-alone present), the bridge laying naked her twinned visions of Jewishness and Blackness, two cultures profoundly formed by their relationships to sublimating struggling by leisure. It’s a thorny, underappreciated side of Goldberg, and of the very nature of the work and the way it developed, which I think the viewers, averse to what isn’t woke, solely felt as heartrending.
