DrIn 1969, Peter Stone and Sherman Edwards created an historical musical that paved a transition from the American unrest of the 60s to the patriotic excess of the upcoming bicentennial. Dramatizing the events that framed the signing of the Declaration of Independence, 1776 beat out counter-culture favorite Hair for Best Musical that year.
This intrigued Tony Award winning director Diane Paulus when she heard of a proposed revival of the show in 2017. “How could anything beat Hair, and what could it be?” she recalls musing. When she read Stone’s politically astute, witty script, she immediately envisioned a new interpretation of the truths that have been apparent for the 250 intervening years. In a post-Hamilton world, the first impulse is to revisit history in the persons of what the world looks like today, with a cast of multi-ethnic performers. But Paulus got the idea to amp it up a step, and put the words of our founding fathers in the mouths of 21st century women in a color-fluid and gender-fluid production. Essentially, she reframed perhaps the single-most important event in our young country’s history in the context of all those who never had the opportunity to shape it.
And what sounds like a potentially huge gimmick as well as a trick we’ve seen before, under Paulus’ inspired eye turns out to be anything but. Paulus won her well-deserved Tony fixing the most pretentious, dated, broken book to any musical, her 2013 revival of Pippin, in effect ending my lifelong love/hate relationship with that show and thus, earned my mad respect and can do precious little wrong.
(True story: aside, after addressing all my grievances with Pippin‘s horrible book throughout the show–making it a two act show, creating a natural and beautiful first act finale by expanding “Morning Glow”, adding all the thrilling circus elements to mask the imperfections of the script–when I saw where they were going with my biggest problem with the show, the completely unraveled, anticlimactic, overly artsy non-ending–and actually changing it, I said to my companion, not the least bit under my breath–“They fixed the shitty ending!!” Totally unaware that the two audience members behind me who scurried in and out at curtain and intermission were in fact Paulus and Stephen Schwartz, discussing further things they could amend. Lesson learned: I forgot in my appraisal of this new work that Paulus is a visionary genius. She knows that was a compliment, right?)
It was a dicey move, considering that the bulk of the rabid fans of this show is the middle-aged white male contingency of performers that move from production to production on the community level (even I finally had the pleasure of portraying comic blowhard with a big production number Richard Henry Lee of Virginia in 2018). But Paulus and co-director/choreographer Jeffrey L. Page had a bigger vision and an even bigger message and risked alienating the core fandom of the piece to bring it to a wider universal audience and performer base. And, in the face of any concerns, they hit pay dirt.
From the very top of the show, it is apparent this is not your grandfather’s 1776. When the show curtain featuring a collage of American flags fades into the classic full-stage mural of the members of the Second Continental Congress signing their names to history that used to end the show, Gisela Adisa, the African-American actor who will be playing John Adams, following a brief moment to honor the indigenous tribes on whose land the Kennedy Center now takes center stage, looks at the mural, then at the audience, and scoffs, starting the show off with one of Adams’ best lines, “One useless man is a disgrace. Two is a law firm. And three or more is a Congress,” lending credence to the concept that everything old is new again. Immediately after the mural clears and 22 more women of all sizes, body types, and ethnicities take the stage in contemporary blouses and black capris to perform a precision drill routine wherein they present and assume their 18th Century-ish waistcoats, remove their fashionable shoes, pull up their stockings, and literally (and ceremoniously) step into the shoes of the figures they will portray for the next 2 ½ hours.
While the desired effect of putting Stone’s flawless script and Edward’s serviceable songs in the mouths of women provide the desired effects, as well as some surprise moments of another layer of awareness and relevancy, Paulus and Page definitely leave their strong imprint on this piece. From small changes like adding Abigail Adams’ famous quote “remember the ladies, for all men would be tyrants if they could” into one of her missives to her frustrated husband, and adding the (silent) character of Thomas Jefferson’s enslaved valet Robert Hemmings, dressing the statesman as the infamous document he is composing is voiced over in the background, most memorably the line “all men are created equal”.
They also have employed John Clancy to give the feeble score a much-needed face-lift, providing new arrangements to accommodate the female registers and add contemporary tempos and styles to the songs for the new performers. And they all work. The weakest aspect of the piece has always been Edward’s lackluster score, forever performed easily by non-singers, which could have conceivably been lifted out leaving a still incredibly strong and moving straight play. Gone are the minuets and the patter songs, replaced by smart choices like adding a rock element to opening number “Sit Down, John”, a fun 70s baroque rock beat, a la The Monkees or The Partridge Family, to the excuses of “But, Mr. Adams”, and making the second act snoozer “The Egg”, four wasted monotone minutes about selecting a national bird as a symbol of the new nation to be hatched, a huge multi-layered pop anthem with full chorus off-stage adding the musical depth the original number lacks. They also turn a score of predominantly solos and duets/trios into a series of full company numbers by strategically adding cast members in shadows out of their male drag as the grieving mothers in “Mama, Look Sharp”, making it extra emotional, and, to greatest effect, the African-American performers providing moving ethnic dance to embody the slavery at the heart of “Molasses to Rum”, now legitimately the showstopper of the evening. Page also adds much clever movement to lesser numbers, such turning Adams’ treacly first number “Piddle, Twiddle, and Resolve” into a virtual ballet of boredom with the ensemble using a clever dance vocabulary filled with leg twitches, head nods, and falling asleep to give the number a much needed physical and comical punch.
Overall, the cast is strong and capable, and the casting novelty wears off within the first few minutes of the opening scene. Standouts beside Adisa, who as John Adams virtually never leaves the stage in the powerhouse role, include Oneika Phillips as an exceptionally authoritative (moreso than any man I’ve ever seen in the role) and almost fearsome John Hancock who rules her delegates with an iron, non-partisan leadership no longer seen today, Joanna Glushak exuding smarmy deliciousness as ultra-conservative leader John Dickinson, Julie Cardia as a perpetually drunk Stephen Hopkins, and Shawna Hamic as Southern braggart Richard Henry Lee, with what used to be the only production number of the show, “The Lees of Old Virginal” (in Paulus’ vision, enhanced by a chorus of all the Lee ancestors rattled off in the lyrics)
Press night was another evening of what is becoming a regular part of post-Covid theatre, with several understudies going on in major roles and giving exemplary performances you’d never know they didn’t do eight shows a week. At this performance, Candice Marie Woods turned in an extremely touching cameo as the young courier with increasingly bad news from Gen. Washington’s front, culminating with a moving “Mama, Look Sharp”, thanks to a touch of Whitney Houston added to the accompaniment. And Brooke Simpson, gave a sweet and gentle performance with lovely vocals filling in the highly featured role of Abigail Adams, benefitting from new keys and an adult easy listening approach to her duets with Adisa.
Kassandra Haddock is riveting and chilling as South Carolinian Edward Rutledge. Her big 11:00 number, the always stirring “Molasses to Rum”, takes on even bigger life thanks to Paulus’ haunting staging and Clancy smartly arranging the song in the sinister, menacing style of the best Bond themes, and Haddock capitalizes on the move and delivers it with all the dangerous seduction of Shirley Bassie singing Goldfinger, which adds an additional level to the moral implications of the number, the scene, and the historical institution.
But the driving force of the evening was Liz Mikel’s take-no-prisoners approach in her commanding performance as Ben Franklin lording over the Continental Congress. Blessed with the best of Stone’s one-liners (“Nor would I mind [being refered to as an Englishman], were I given the full rights of an Englishman. But to call me one without those rights is like calling an ox a bull. He’s thankful for the honor, but he’d much rather have restored what’s rightfully his.”)
Only Nancy Anderson falls slightly short inhabiting the shoes of pivotal statesman Thomas Jefferson. As the only character who could not convincingly distance her femininity, she read significantly too diminutive to be the young, vivacious, and strapping 6’2 Jefferson. And one could forgive her stature in an all-female cast if there were not several other castmates (most significantly Phillips, Mikel, and understudy Kayla Saunders in the role of Joseph Hewes of North Carolina, who all cut particularly stately physiques; even Connor Lyon as Martha Jefferson stood taller) who were imposing and robust both in stature and demeanor, making Anderson fade slightly into the background. When she finally unleashed some extreme vocal power at the end of “The Egg” to justify her casting, it was impressive, but just too little, too late.
Gone is the stationary confinement of the walls of Independence Hall. Scott Pasek’s mobile desks reconfigure from scene to scene to aid the perspective in storytelling, and two sheet curtains that are target of David Bengali’s always impressive projections take us to various other locations and moods within the scenes and songs, his most ambitious effort being a speed-through of American history during the ending chorus of “The Egg”, featuring the many pivotal landmarks along our history of independence that different factions of society progressed through at different paces to arrive to where we sit today watching them.
Costume Designer Emilio Sosa plays into the concept of embracing the current representation onstage by accenting his rainbow palette (contrasting dark colors and earth tones for the Northern characters with brighter, flashier colors for their Southern counterparts) with cultural accents like indigenous beadwork and Filipino symbols on necklaces and brooches that honor the heritage of the particular actors wearing them. Sosa also added a sly social comment to his plot wherein the more conservative, self-serving Congressman are attired in the most elaborate, ostentatious frocks, with bold colors featuring elaborate patterns and extensive trim. For Rutledge, the most self-servicing delegate on the floor, he actually selected an appropriately bright, pearly peacock blue, which complemented Haddock’s complexion while making a bold character statement visually. Hair and Wig Designer Mia Neal does also eschews your grandfather’s powdered wigs and employs a variety of natural colors and textures that cross contemporary with period, still reflecting the fashion and grooming associated with the historical characters. She draws great inspiration from the different ethnic hairstyle possibilities, most strikingly in Phillip’s shaved sides with a braided beehive as John Hancock, which adds even more height to her imposing character.
Lighting Designer Jen Schriever assists Paulus and Page’s unique presentation of the piece, contrasting full bright light for the Congressional scenes with stark colorful beams to accent pivotal moments, and downright haunting transformations for the disturbing background scenes fleshed out in “Mama, Look Sharp” and “Molasses to Rum”. Save for a slight imbalance in the new dynamics of the opening “Sit Down, John” number, Jonathan Deans’ sound was the usual crystal standards of the Kennedy Center.
I admit that upon first hearing of this project pre-Covid, I had questions and even a few reservations about it. The kneejerk response was to consider it a blatant rip-off of the Hamilton model to sieze upon it’s momentum. But in the intervening years, the issues of racism and sexism and many other civil rights have taken center stage on our world platform, and as an actor who has performed in the piece, even I was startlingly more aware of the sexist statements and the assumption of power by the men, and the racism always starkly addressed in the final debate landed its point even harder between the tight direction and the powerful performances by the cast. I should have ceased questioning when I learned Paulus was attached. If she could fix Pippin, she could do anything. And she and Page did. This 1776 is by all means a new phenomenon for our new age of awareness, where we now know how our institutions have scoured our history books of all the blemishes that don’t reflect well on the narrative they want us to hear. And its point painfully strikes home that as much that everything has obviously changed since the Colonial days, so much, especially politically–from self-serving leaders who look out for their own preservation over the good of society, to ever evolving (and sometimes devolving) issues in civil and women’s rights, to selling one’s soul to stay alive in the Capital, has sadly stayed the same. Perhaps if we learn the lessons this new vision of 1776 intends us to, we can prevent history form repeating itself. And the timing is perfect to do something meaningful and relevant to really celebrate Independence Day this holiday weekend.
Photos courtesy of Joan Marcus
Running Time: Approximately 2 hours and 45 minutes with one intermission
1776 currently plays through June 16, 2023, at the Eisenhower Theatre at the John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts, 2700 F Street NW, Washington DC 20566. For tickets, call the box office at 202.467.4600 or purchase online.