Disasters happen when you deconstruct a sailing vessel. Remove planks from the hull, realign the rudder, place too much cargo in one end of steerage, and the sturdiest schooner will capsize in frigid, choppy waters. As regards Jerome Kern and Oscar Hammerstein II’s Show Boat, a quantum leap in the evolution of Broadway musicals, seaworthiness was an issue long before director David Herskovits undertook his audacious makeover. It’s not that Show Boat leaks, exactly: the 1927 stage megahit led to three movie versions and six Broadway revivals (the most recent of which closed in 1997). Still, this pioneering blend of drama and operetta has been patched and repainted over the decades for a reason: its attitude toward race. The prevalence of n-words and condescendingly cuddly Black characters may have been frank and even liberal in its day but reads in 2025 as a morally queasy remnant of Creepy Americana. Racial slurs have gradually been replaced by softer language, but the stereotypes remain. As a cultural milestone, Show Boat stays afloat, but dare we board?
Herskovits and his talented team of musicians and performers make a strong case for revisiting the sprawling, tonally jarring classic—not just for its truly gorgeous songs. In adapting Edna Ferber’s novel about life on Mississippi River showboat Cotton Blossom, Kern wove a lush score from spirituals, Dixieland, European waltz and burgeoning jazz. Extensively underscored and richly motivic, the composer’s musical tapestry ushered in a handful of breakout tunes: swoony duet “Make Believe,” bluesy ballad “Can’t Help Lovin’ Dat Man,” and “Ol’ Man River” the melancholy anthem made famous by Paul Robeson—and that’s just Act I. Anchored by Hammerstein’s deft and ardent lyrics, these numbers sprout from the malignant Jim Crow setting like prayers for a better world—or else opiates to forget this one.
Either to the delight (or dismay) of those familiar with this cornerstone of the American Songbook, the score has been boldly revised by co-music directors Dionne McClain Freeney and Dan Schlosberg. The former has created strikingly intimate vocal arrangements for the cast of ten, who switch between principal roles, supporting parts, and chorus. Meanwhile, Schlosberg has pared the orchestration from its traditional dozens of players to a six-member band that includes electric guitar. The result is a sonic world as polyglot and surprising as Hammerstein’s libretto, which swerves from low vaudeville yuks to domestic tragedy. One minute, the high-spirited cook Queenie (Suzanne Darrell) is carnival-barking to attract Black audiences with the patter number “C’mon Folks.” A couple scenes later, ingénue Magnolia (Rebbekah Vega-Romero) and handsome gambler Gaylord Ravenal (Philip Themio Stoddard) romance each other with the honeysuckled “You Are Love.” The band may be small, but it sounds lovely under Freeney’s direction and Vega-Romero and Stoddard blend voices (and lips) quite fetchingly.
Besides the canny reduction of forces, the score has been cleverly tweaked to bring those perfumed melodies closer to modern ears (i.e., making Kern sound less white). When Julie—played by the volcanic Stephanie Weeks—sings “Can’t Help Lovin’ Dat Man,” those poignant vocal lines begin to swing more, take on a smoky R&B swagger. After intermission, when Weeks delivers the tender ode to having an undistinguished lover, “Bill,” she plays Julie like Billie Holiday nodding on dope, who suddenly gets a jolt of demonic energy and finishes the song with discordant, wailing rage. It’s a shocker of a vocal turn. Yes, those who want to hear a very demure, very mindful “Bill” may be fuming, but it’s a hell of an effect.
In terms of staging, Herskovits brings an eye for minimalist stage pictures and a fondness for gestural acting he has cultivated for decades as the founder of experimental company Target Margin Theater. Kaye Voyce’s bracing scenic design includes such blunt elements as a wide white scrim with doorways demarcated with big BLACK and WHITE signs, the letters printed in reverse. Costume designer Dina El-Aziz drapes actors in white sashes lettered WHITE, again in all caps, which they take on and off when playing Caucasians. The cast is diverse and full of dynamic, appealing performers, from downtown legend Steven Rattazzi (if ever avant-garde theater had a tummler, he’s it) and the magnetic Tẹmídayọ Amay, a slim and mysterious presence who plays second-banana dancer Frank and foreboding sheriff Vallon with equal grace.
In a sense, Hammerstein’s libretto follows four marriages through several decades from the South up to Chicago and back: two that end happily, two that don’t. Queenie is married to Joe (Alvin Crawford), the Black stevedore who sings “Ol’ Man River.” Although the details of their prickly union are not deeply explored, they seem to be a relatively stable twosome. Same for Captain Andy (Rattazzi) and his domineering wife, Parthy (J Molière): she henpecks him and he ignores her to run the showboat. On the sadder side of the nuptial ledger is Julie (Weeks), leading lady on the Cotton Blossom until she’s revealed to be biracial, which forces her departure. Julie’s white husband and leading man, Steve (Edwin Joseph) valiantly sticks with her, but abandons her up north. The last couple, the one whose story is fully foregrounded, is Captain Andy and Parthy’s stage-struck daughter, Magnolia and Gaylord, the gambling-addicted but goodhearted wastrel she falls for.
Show Boat isn’t a story about marriage, per se, but methods of survival: whether that means rising above the poverty that a misalliance can befall a woman or living through the injustice of a racially segregated society. As “Ol’ Man River” reminds us throughout the evening, life is hard, and nature indifferent. Such philosophical resignation can be moving, but present-day sensibilities are more attuned to social justice, intervention, progress. By stripping Show Boat to its bones and shining a harsh light on its social as well as showbiz mechanics, Herskovits wants us to watch, enjoy, and judge the material all at once. He titles this adaptation rather like a dissertation: Show/Boat: A River. And in that river? Flotsam and jetsam for our close inspection.
Another revival Show/Boat naturally brings to mind is the Daniel Fish-directed Oklahoma! which transferred to Broadway in 2019. In comparison, Fish was practically conservative. Still, both bring out the dark side of the musical comedies and aim the work at a multiracial audience who can navigate complexity and irony. And to be honest, freely reconceived stagings of famous musicals have been around a while. John Doyle’s high-concept take on Sweeney Todd is 20 years old. Company has been refurbished twice. Even Andrew Lloyd Webber’s often kitschy and lumbering musicals have benefitted from directorial invention: witness Cats: The Jellicle Ball and Jamie Lloyd’s video-saturated Sunset Boulevard.
Even so, this stark and confrontational time aboard the Cotton Blossom won’t be for all tastes. Purists or anyone allergic to experimental-theater tropes (metatheatrical gags, presentational acting, deadpan delivery) may flee at intermission. At my performance, a few did. It helps to read the original libretto or watch the 1936 film before going. I did both, which help me appreciate how the staging scraped away a century of cultural rust and sentimentality to reveal an often deeply sad and frequently funny masterpiece of music-theater. Full disclosure: It was the first Show Boat I ever saw live. Will it be my last? Centenary’s coming in two years. Will the country have moved on so much that no rewrite would justify a return to Broadway? Or will Ol’ Man River roll backwards, sweeping us into a past where we don’t belong and don’t want to live?
Show/Boat: A River | 2hrs 30mins. One intermission. | NYU Skirball | 566 LaGuardia Place | 212-998-4941 | Buy Tickets Here
