In honor of Presidents Day, I resurrect my review of “Bloody, Bloody Andrew Jackson,” which opened on Broadway on October 13, 2010 and closed three months later, on January 2, 2011.
Watching “Bloody, Bloody Andrew Jackson” for a second time, I wasn’t sure whether it reminded me more of “Urinetown,” “American Idiot” or “Springtime For Hitler.” One thing was clear: it was no “1776.”
The cheeky musical about America’s seventh president that has now moved to Broadway has turned me into Sybil, each of my multiple personalities reacting differently. The history buff in me is appalled. The rock fan is entranced. The politico is irked that others somehow see in this sophomoric mish-mash a useful commentary on what’s going on in the country today. The would-be hipster wants desperately to talk about “emo” rock as if he knew what that meant, make knowing references to bands like Dashboard Confessional, and in general share in the downtown aura that invests this show with much of its marketing appeal. The theater aficionado is thrilled to witness the work of some intensely talented artists near the beginning of their careers, especially the actor who plays Andrew Jackson, Benjamin Walker, and the two first-time creative collaborators, director and book writer Alex Timbers and Michael Friedman, composer and lyricist.
“Bloody, Bloody Andrew Jackson” tries to set itself apart from your normal Broadway musical before the action has even begun, by turning the Bernard B. Jacobs Theater into a discotheque circa 1985 with a combination Wild West and Halloween theme, courtesy of set designer Donyale Werle—red lights are strewn across the ceiling along with the kind of chandeliers you can buy in bulk from ABC Carpet, a full-sized stuffed horse hangs upside down bound in chains, fake oil portraits of unnamed illustrious 19th century men line the walls, and placed throughout the theater are pelts, a Big Buck Hunter video game, a crow, a snarling grizzly bear.
None of this is on the stage, which is itself stuffed with beer cans, moose heads, faded landscape paintings, a disco ball, a dartboard, assorted bric-a-brac, like a T.G.I. Friday’s with an especially detail-oriented manager.
The visual busyness offers a glimpse into the approach of the musical itself, which presents scenes from the life and career of Andrew Jackson — frontiersman, military hero, controversial politician — in the sort of mash-up that might be cooked up by a group of clever, giddy college roommates during a drug-fueled all-nighter after attending an afternoon history lecture.
“Bloody, Bloody Andrew Jackson” is part rock concert, part Fringe show, part shock jock riff, with gratuitous swipes at gay people and the disabled. It is a mock children’s story hour mixed with a Behind the Music episode of the rise and demise of a rock star. The characters speak like 21st century adolescents, and there are a range of anachronistic allusions — to modern-day political campaigns, Internet start-ups, the Bush administration’s policy in Iraq, totalitarian dictatorships.
There is even an odd kind of romance: When Jackson meets Rachel, his wife-to-be (Maria Elena Ramirez) they sing about Susan Sontag’s “Illness as Metaphor”, and bleed each other. “Sometimes when I’m out on the battlefield, and I’m covered in blood and I have terrible dysentery and diarrhea, I think of you,” Jackson says dreamily to Rachel at one point. “Here at the Hermitage, bleeding yourself.”
The musical, which lasts roughly 90 minutes without an intermission, takes us on a quick tour of some of the highlights – and low points – in this profoundly intriguing historical figure, with particular attention to his treatment of Native Americans, focusing on the forced relocation policy, which has gone down in history as the Trail of Tears. The history is unreliable, the tone teeters from silly and fey to offensive and in-your-face. The musical attempts at times also to be pointed and poignant with only intermittent success. Yet for all its flaws and wrong-headedness, the theatergoer in me found that “Bloody, Bloody Andrew Jackson” largely works, because of Michael Friedman’s 13 songs. Played by a three-member band on stage and sung by Walker and the rest of the large, capable cast, they are hard-charging, tuneful, inventive — and, unlike much of the rock on Broadway stages, theatrical. Friedman, who is most associated with the seriously engaged “investigative theater” company The Civilians, is making his Broadway debut…as a composer; he was a dramaturg for “A Raisin in the Sun.” He also reportedly has written the original music for this season’s revival of Tony Kushner’s “Angels in America” at the Signature Theater. Benjamin Walker and Alex Timbers (who is also directing “Pee-wee’s Playhouse” this season) have been getting the ink for “Bloody, Bloody Andrew Jackson.” Michael Friedman is the member of the team I’d vote for.
Bloody, Bloody Andrew Jackson
Bernard Jacobs Theater (242 West 45th Street) Written and directed by Alex Timbers Music and lyrics by Michael Friedman Choreography by Danny Mefford; sets by Donyale Werle; costumes by Emily Rebholz; lighting by Justin Townsend; sound by Bart Fasbender; musical director, Justin Levine; music coordinator, Seymour Red Press; fight director, Jacob Grigolia-Rosenbaum Cast: Benjamin Walker (Andrew Jackson), James Barry (Male Soloist/Citizen/Phil), Darren Goldstein (Andrew Sr./Calhoun), Greg Hildreth (Red Eagle/University President), Jeff Hiller (Cobbler/Messenger/John Quincy Adams/Tour Guide/Florida Man), Lucas Near-Verbrugghe (Keokuk/Van Buren), Cameron Ocasio (Lyncoya), Bryce Pinkham (Black Fox/Clay), Nadia Quinn (Toula/Female Ensemble), Maria-Elena Ramirez (Rachel/Florida Woman), Kate Cullen Roberts (Elizabeth/Erica), Ben Steinfeld (Monroe), Emily Young (Female Soloist/Announcer/Naomi), Kristine Neilsen (the Storyteller) and Justin Levine, Charlie Rosen and Kevin Garcia (Musicians) Running time: 90 minutes without intermission Ticket prices: $61.50 to $131.50. Premium tickets as high as $251.50. Lottery for first two rows of orchestra, $20