Playwright: Randal Myler and Mark Harelik. At: American Blues Theater at the Greenhouse, 2257 N. Lincoln Ave. Tickets: 773-404-7336; www.americanbluestheater.com; $29-$39. Runs through: Oct. 6
Characters in a "musical" reveal their inner emotions by singing, while those in a "play-with-music" present their songs and dances as performance—in the context of a stage show incorporated into the plot, for example. When the protagonist in the latter is a composer/musician, though, and his immediate circle of acquaintances comprised chiefly of people sharing similar interests, it's not unusual for them to express themselves through scripted lyrics—changing the words of a refrain to suit the occasion, say, or ad-libbing an improvised, if no less melodic, commentary during another instrumentalist's solo.
This dynamic is what distinguishes this portrait of Hiram King Williams—"Hank" to his fans, "Harm" to his intimates, "Skeets" to his elders—from its generic kin. Randal Myler and Mark Harelik may begin their story with the announcement of the singer's untimely death at the age of 29, or recount his life and times in "Story Theater" structure combining dramatic re-enactments and straightforward narrative, but the lyrics that introduced America to southern-white blues (later dubbed "country") are so closely integrated with their protagonist's personal growth as to eliminate all immediately detectable boundaries. In the universe of a scrappy Alabama boy who loved only four things—his mama, his girl, his God and his music—there's nothing startling about fully audible childhood memories of Negro shouters and gospel choirs haunting his restless sleep.
Theatergoers looking for no more than an evening's concert with minimal analytical rumination will applaud director Damon Kiely's wisdom in bringing on board veteran arranger Malcolm Ruhl to score an impressive selection of Williams classics, mostly for the songwriter's Drifting Cowboys string band—replicated onstage by Chicago's favorite sidemen, Michael Mahler, Austin Cook, Greg Hirte and John Foley—but also configured into a cappella soliloquies, down-home family hymns, and deliberately tone-deaf warbles. Even the actors restricted to speaking roles exhibit pitch-perfect phrasing and harmony.
Anchoring the action in the intimate Greenhouse ground-floor auditorium is Matthew Brumlow, his wholesome features almost wholly subsumed into his persona's wiry depression-era frame, delivering a portrayal of such transformative intensity as to spur devout secularists in the audience to enthusiastic caroling of "I Saw the Light" opening night. It's too early to predict whether this American Blues Theater production will match the success of that other roots-of-rock-and-roll show playing up the street at the Apollo, but it's off to a good start.
