Passing Strangers with Pop/Rock Candy

The post-Rent generation of American musical theater has constantly busied itself with finding the next big thing, hunting for that pivotal turn, all while fighting against the growing pressure of commercialism in the New York theater scene. Half rock concert, half musical, and anything but traditionally Broadway, Passing Strange is certainly bold and edgy. But new and different isn’t always enough in the effort to take musical theater to the next level. Much like last season’s Spring Awakening, Passing Strange only comes close and ultimately doesn’t quite get there.

It’s 1976. An unnamed South Central L.A. youth is feeling restless. He lives with his kindhearted but misunderstanding mother, who coerces him into attending church, even though he fancies himself far too cool for such things. He and some friends form a band. There’s personal and artistic drama. The band falls apart. The youth leaves home and heads to Amsterdam and then Berlin to pursue his creative spirit. He is in search of “The Real”—an amorphous abstraction of ultimate, unadulterated emotional truth.
Sounds hip enough, right? Right.

Except there’s just one problem—where’s the conflict? Sure, this kid is unhappy and has worldly lessons to learn, but is he really feeling anything more than teen angst? Are his problems really that serious, or is he just your average teenager, itching to get out of town? Part of the paradox of Passing Strange is that it mixes an energetic, engaging cast with a series of almost entirely unsympathetic characters. It’s a show that’s more about ideas than people—a dangerous trap to fall into. The ideas themselves may be profound, but without the opportunity to be drawn in by these characters and their stories, the connection is lost and it’s difficult to care about them. The result is a show whose persona is, unfortunately, often pretentious and self-congratulatory. The youth’s core struggle is, in theory, a poignant one. He must learn the proper balance between interpersonal love and investment in his art, but it is somehow handled with almost no feeling. You can stray from tradition and push the envelope, but characters with heart and a conflict with impetus are two things you just can’t write a musical without.

Nevertheless, those lofty ideas are beautifully represented. Stew, musician, composer, and co-creator of Passing Strange, leads the on-stage band and narrates the semi-autobiographical story of the youth with a score that’s so hard rock it makes Spring Awakening sound like easy listening. This is a far cry from your typical Broadway score, even the pop/rock ones. The often-poetic writing in the book and lyrics alike speaks of love, artistic creation, revolution, pain, truth—and it does so with a gift of introspective delicacy.

Shortcomings aside, what is special about Passing Strange is, quite simply, its very existence on the Great White Way. For a show with such a downtown sensibility to be up against the commercial machines on Broadway should be enough to make anyone who loves theater rejoice. It may fall short of being the next big turning point in American musical theater, but it’s undeniably innovative, trying yet another recipe in the mixture of musical theater and rock ‘n’ roll.

A musical as unconventional as Passing Strange is very much about the experience. On a thrust stage at the Public, the show was surrounded on three sides by its audience, creating an intimacy nearly impossible to achieve on a proscenium. It now feels swallowed on a stage too big for a tiny show with barely any set beyond a table and chairs, and a back wall with lined trademark, if overused, lighting by Kevin Adams (Spring Awakening and Next to Normal). Without its old intimacy, part of Passing Strange’s rock concert intensity has faded. While its presence on Broadway is an achievement to be admired, something seems to have been lost in transition.