Blood Brothers and Their Feuds, for Generations‘Ghost Brothers of Darkland County,’ From Stephen King and John MellencampBy CHARLES ISHERWOOD
NOV. 25, 2014
Bad blood flows down through the generations in “Ghost Brothers of Darkland County,” a Southern Gothic musical with a book by the literary spookmeister supreme, Stephen King; songs by John Mellencamp; and musical direction by T Bone Burnett. A semi-staged touring version of the show, directed by Susan V. Booth, made a pit stop in New York for one night only at the Beacon Theater on Monday, attracting a healthy crowd that seemed equally divided between King fans (like the guy in the shirt that screamed “Redrum”) and followers of either Mr. Mellencamp, whose pop-rock career dates back to the late ’70s, or Mr. Burnett, whose résumé includes a hefty 13 Grammys and music supervision for the first season of the terrific television series “Nashville.”
Terrific is not the first word that springs to mind after viewing “Ghost Brothers,” unfortunately. Muddled is more like it. The musical, accurately if wordily described on the front of the program as “a Southern Gothic supernatural musical of fraternal love, lust, jealousy and revenge,” opened in 2012 to tepid reviews in a full production at the Alliance Theater in Atlanta, where Ms. Booth is artistic director. In The New York Times, Jason Zinoman said the show “stitches together dynamic elements that never satisfyingly cohere.” In this version, which is essentially a dressed-up concert, some of those stitches have been dropped — perhaps not surprisingly — and the result is probably less dynamic and more unsatisfying.
The plot turns on a fractious reunion taking place among members of the McCandless family at their cabin on Lake Belle Reve (an utterly untethered reference to “A Streetcar Named Desire”). There is tension between the paterfamilias, Joe, played by Billy Burke (“24” and the “Twilight” movies), and his booze-swilling ex-beauty queen wife, Monique, portrayed by Gina Gershon, most recently seen on Broadway in the dismal revival of “Bye Bye Birdie.”
But their relationship is cozy, compared with the feud a-boilin’ between their sons. Frank (Lucas Kavner) is the smart achiever, an aspiring novelist who’s just sold his first book for half a million dollars. (We know he’s the brains because he wears glasses.) Drake (Joe Tippett) is a musician whose band definitely hasn’t made the big time, arousing not unnatural jealousy. The antipathy between them has curdled into something like hate because Frank has recently acquired a girlfriend, Anna (Kylie Brown), who transferred her affections from the more feckless Drake.
In this simmering sibling rivalry Joe sees a dark echo of events from his past. His older brothers, Andy (Travis Smith) and Jack (Peter Albrink), were likewise rivalrous, with the similarity extending to a tug of war over the heart of a girl, Jenna (Kate Ferber). Their history, which ended with both brothers dead, is entwined with the tale of the next generation of McCandless boys. Stuck in some sort of purgatory, the ghosts of Andy, Jack and Jenna — all dressed in white — mingle with Joe’s family, their ill will flowing from the dead to the living, poisoning the atmosphere.
Mr. King’s convoluted book also includes a figure referred to as the Shape, who is, for all intents and purposes, Satan. Portrayed with jeering vigor by Jake La Botz, he slithers around the stage in tatty denim and florid tattoos, making mocking commentary on the proceedings and generally rooting for Frank and Drake to tear at each other.
Both as actors and singers, the cast is largely excellent, although the minimal staging allows more scope for vocal prowess than for acting chops. (The performers are outfitted with Broadway-style head mikes.)
Mr. Mellencamp’s skillfully turned songs are mostly country-inflected rock, with hints of gospel, blues and, yes, zydeco folded into the mix. But while they are well performed by the cast and the four-man band, led by Andy York, the songs often feel tangential to the story. Many are pop-style declarations of identity or need (“That’s Me,” “That’s Who I Am,” “Monique’s Song,” “My Name Is Joe” and “What Kind of Man Am I” are among the titles) that tend to interrupt the story rather than illustrate it, and the last thing Mr. King’s double-barreled plot needs is disruption.
Ms. Gershon, in a ratted Amy Winehouse wig, sings with an authentic yearning twang and brings a slightly soiled glamour to Monique. Mr. Burke has a rich, husky baritone and capably transmits Joe’s stolid determination to keep history from repeating itself. Mr. Kavner and Mr. Tippett, as their warring sons, needle each other amusingly, the cooler Frank tending to get the better of the hot-blooded Drake, at least until Anna suddenly and none too rationally begins to think twice about her allegiance.
By this point, Joe has made a shocking confession about what really happened on that fatal night in 1967, when his brothers both met their untimely ends. But while the details of this revelation are hardly credible, still more unwieldy is the denouement of the contemporary plotline. I won’t spoil the, er, fun, but Mr. King being Mr. King, it’s no shocker to suggest that this family reunion does not conclude with everyone’s hugging it out.
http://www.nytimes.com/2014/11/26/theater/ghost-brothers-of-darkland-county-from-stephen-king-and-john-mellencamp.html?_r=0
