I Was Looking at the Ceiling and Then I Saw the Sky

0 Comments | Insight on the News, June 12, 1995 | by Gayle M.B. Hanson

I Was Looking at the Ceiling and Then I Saw the Sky, the long-awaited musical theater collaboration of poet June Jordan, composer John Adams and director Peter Sellars, promises an "earthquake/romance" that explores life in late-20th century Los Angeles. But the best anyone could wish for this ill-conceived and badly executed effort is that the stage floor would open and swallow the production whole.

Artistic collaboration is like marriage, and that between Sellars and Adams has been a rich one. Together with poet Alice Goodman, they created two of the most celebrated late-20th century operas, Nixon in China and The Death of Klinghoffer. But their partnership with Jordan, a recipient of the 1995 Lila Wallace-Reader's Digest Writer's Award, has been less fruitful.

Instead of an insightful exploration of life in multicultural Los Angeles, Jordan has foisted upon her collaborators, and the audience, a cast of seven characters constructed from the baldest racial stereotypes. To make matters worse, she has given them a cliche-ridden plot with less depth than a Saturday morning cartoon.

The multicultural cast represents the diversity of Los Angeles. There's Consuelo, an illegal immigrant from El Salvador, with two children and a doomed romance. Dewain, her African-American lover, is facing "three strikes and you're out" sentencing laws after stealing two 40-ounce bottles of beer. Rick, an Asian-American Legal Aid attorney, defends Dewain. Caucasian cutouts Mike, a cop, and Tiffany, a TV news reporter, ride about in a patrol car. Rounding out the cast are African-Americans David, a young Baptist minister, and Leila, his graduate-student girlfriend who works in a family-planning clinic.

The story takes place in the time leading up to and following the Northridge earthquake. There is little dialogue; instead, the action unfolds in 22 songs that mine the canon of American theater, beginning with Porgy and Bess and ending with Hair. Adams, one of America's contemporary music stars, departs from his usual polyphonic minimalism to explore more popular musical genres. It is clearly a waste of his prodigious talent.

Although the musical opens with an evocative ensemble song that takes its name from the work's title, the subsequent numbers, while enthusiastically rendered, often are burdened by lyrics that run the gamut from absurd to ridiculous. Consider Song About the Bad Boys and the News, a trio sung by Leila, Consuelo and Tiffany: It begins with a haunting folk melody in which the women sing of wishing to change the news but soon degenerates into a paean to the male body more appropriate to a Saturday Night Live sketch:

Wait! What about the buns!

Tight and high like African suns!

Other numbers include Song About Arresting a Particular Individual and Song About Law School as the Natural Follow-Up to Jail. None of the 22 leave the audience humming; that, in itself, may be a blessing.

As for the stage production, it too is a marvel of banality. Each song is illustrated by a different mural done by a California "graffiti artist." Among the most striking efforts: the mural illustrating the plight of Dewain's arrest featuring two giant bottles of beer in handcuffs. The image is so ridiculous that one audience member commented, "Let my 40-ouncers go."

While the musical purports to explore contemporary issues such as immigration, birth control and criminal law, it does so with less insight than most hip-hop recordings. In its efforts to be au courant in its subject matter, it winds up being wildly out of sync. It asks too much of the audience to embrace Dewain as a hero, even if he only stole two bottles of beer. Dewain never does anything positive in his community and the audience never is informed of his previous crimes.

If this musical had been written in the 1960s, it well may have found a place in the political street theater of the time. Instead, the production will embark on a six-month world tour, during which audiences will be asked to pay top dollar for tickets.

The Grammy-winning recording of The Death of Klinghoffer would make a better investment for those interested in Adams' work. And there would be plenty of change left over for a 40-ounce bottle of beer.