Golden Boy of the Blue Ridge: Unlikely Heroes and Cowards in Appalachia

When it opened in Dublin in 1907, J.M. Synge's Playboy of the Western World sparked riots in the streets. Turn-of-the-century Dubliners were enraged at the play's premise of a rural Irish community's enthusiastic welcome of a man who claims to have murdered his father--especially when the son's name was Christy Mahon (a homophone for Christ Man).

Peter Mills' latest musical, based on Synge's play, probably won't inspire New York audiences to riot. Stripped of the original's religious symbolism, Golden Boy of the Blue Ridge is not much of a social or religious commentary, but simply an enjoyable and clever musical comedy.

Reset to the Appalachian Mountains during the early years of the Depression (early enough for Prohibition to still be in effect), the story remains largely the same: A young man arrives in an isolated rural community and quickly confesses to the murder of his father. Rather than react in horror, the townspeople cheer their new guest and make him a local celebrity, admiring his bravery and strength--until they learn that there is more to his story.

Especially in today's anything-for-fifteen-minutes-of-fame culture, Synge's satiric bite could easily be maintained in adapting the story for contemporary audiences. Perhaps somewhat to the show's detriment (only somewhat), Mills and co-librettist/director Cara Reichel avoid the satire and simply tell the story as a simple comedy. To some extent, it's a pity, because with Mills' wit and intelligence he could probably have crafted a razor-sharp satire of American values and culture, and one can't help but wonder what he would have written if he really set out to skewer.

But satiric bite is just about the only thing missing from Golden Boy of the Blue Ridge. Even as a straight comedy, the show still works very well, mostly by pure force of will. As demonstrated in his other musicals and individual songs, Mills has a terrific sense of humor, and there isn't a missed joke in the show. If many of the quips seem lifted from Hee Haw, it fits in perfectly with the music, characters and situation and never feels forced. Mills' score is a smart combination of bluegrass and musical theatre, nicely moving the story along and adding dimensions to the characters while always maintaining a sense of time and place. It's not that there's any lack of country musicals--to wit, please see Big River, Lone Star Love, Tom Sawyer, Violet and plenty of other worthy musicals--but Mills' skill with musical storytelling makes these bluegrass songs particularly engaging and exciting.

Following the recent trend of actors/singers as musicians, four of the ensemble members (Melody Allegra Berger, Matthew Dure, Dennis Michael Keefe and Mike Rosengarten, guided by Eli Zoller's music direction) serve as the show's string-only band, moving into and out of scenes as necessary and getting some of the best songs. Again, what could be a gimmick works well, and makes the music not only a driving force of the story but of the characters' lives. As Clayton, the titular character, Mark Mozingo sings well and plays his character with a good balance of bravado and cowardice. Victoria Huston Elem makes the sharp-tongued Maggie sympathetic with a good measure of yearning, and Dan Sharkey gets some strong laughs as her father, JM (a nice nod to the original playwright). Jeff Edgerton nicely captures the pious awkwardness of Luther, Maggie's well-meaning but dull fiance, and makes it clear why she would crave some of the excitement Clayton seems to promise her. Scott Wakefield makes the menacing Leroy surprisingly funny as the character imbibes more and more moonshine, and does some very strong physical comedy.

Perhaps the biggest surprise of the evening is Carol Hickey as the sensual young widow Hazel, who becomes the driving force of the show as she manipulates the other characters to her own ends. With her powerful voice and excellent comic timing, Hickey makes Hazel the most exciting and interesting character in the show.

Tate Burmeister's tumbledown sets, Sidney Shannon's threadbare costimes and Evan Purcell's eerie lights contribute significantly to the overall mood of the piece, letting us see the characters' desperation and poverty before a single note is sung. Cara Reichel's smart direction keeps the humor and energy as the focal points of the piece, never letting a moment flag.

Golden Boy of the Blue Ridge may not generate the kinds of debates (and fights) that its source material did, but it doesn't try to. Ultimately, this is a fun and utterly enjoyable study of the difference between gallous stories and dirty deeds, and the people who walk the line that seperates the two.

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