By Erika Murphy
“I don’t stay out late,
Got no place to go,
I’m home about eight,
Just me and my radio
Ain’t misbehavin’
I’m savin’ my love for you”
These are the lyrics to Ain’t Misbehavin’s title song, but don’t expect them to apply to the characters highlighted in Portland Center Stage’s current musical, who sing and dance late into the night. An homage to gifted jazz pianist, singer, and songwriter Fats Waller, the show is also a dizzying musical foray into a playful late-night party scene.
Though the video promos and show description may hint at a cabaret-style revue (front-facing mic, onstage band, what have you), Ain’t Misbehavin’ is fully staged and story-lined, with the rotating set that’s becoming a PCS signature in full swing. Actually, the closest thing to an onstage mic is a broom a character sings into while imitating a radio show. On the other hand, there are no character names listed in the program, and there is a great deal of forward-facing performing that nods to the cabaret style and keeps the show’s inspiration—the songs—at the center.
Director Chris Coleman shares in his notes that Fats Waller’s life centered around women, bourbon, dancing, jokes, and of course, the piano. This production includes all of these elements, aptly capturing Waller’s spontaneity and zeal for life. Coleman’s adaptation also uses a larger ensemble than the original production, allowing for a fuller portrayal of Waller’s fun-loving crew. The musician famously loved parties, and his nights often extended into early morning. In this mood, this musical’s characters dance until they collapse onto wooden crates, or the ground itself, exhilarated and exhausted.
Although the full title, Ain’t Misbehavin’: The Fats Waller Musical Show, makes it seem as though the character of Waller will steal with spotlight from the others, that isn’t the case. As Waller, actor DeMone slides into the background, creating space for others’ relationships and friendships to flourish. The production suggests that Waller was happiest surrounded by others’ collective enjoyment of music. In fact, DeMone is so unassuming in his performance that I couldn’t immediately pick out which actor played Waller! The play opens with a couple in the kitchen, the man just arriving home in the morning after a fun night out—though only fun for him; his partner can’t help but mutter “Lord have mercy!” because she’s so fed up with his behavior.
The musical, a split narrative from this fulcrum, gradually branches out to show us exactly what all of the characters do during their nights out with Waller, but the focus never rests solely or extensively on him. He spends fleeting moments dancing, but much of his time is spent at the piano. But like any good accompanist, he sets the tone, with open, endearing facial expressions and a laid-back charisma.
Gritty, urban staging adds texture to the scenes and hints at the partiers’ modest digs: brick walls and concrete stairs, curtained windows with shutters, and wooden crates. When the production begins, the set moves in a circle; the kitchen and bedroom that first face outward revolve around, revealing a bar and a street corner. These three locales seem to symbolically correspond with the show’s three primary areas of interest: relationships, music, and celebration.
As the characters interact on stage, there’s an authentic sense of camaraderie, and mutual affection and joy, but this is no superficial rendering of a rambunctious musician. Even as they remain nameless, the supporting characters ring universally true, richly embodying longing, desire, joy and despair, the full range of Waller’s most timeless lyrics. Low moments are achingly authentic, plumbing the significant undertones of Waller’s life, and highs are further uplifted by dizzying dance numbers. In fact, it’s striking how well the ensemble spans these highs and lows. Even on those few occasions when the tempo slows for a more somber tone, the ensemble’s energy does not dissipate, but becomes more intensely focused. Though the whole cast is strong, the comic standouts are André Ward, with sharp wit and a nuanced mastery of the era’s postures and facial expressions; and Mia Michelle McClain, with big facial expressions and unabashed silliness.
To my surprise, the show also speaks to women’s struggles during the era. It considers the experience of being “the other woman” as well as the one waiting in vain for her husband to finally come home at night. Take the poignant lyrics from “Mean to Me,” impressive in how they speak directly to feeling unloved: “Gee, honey, it seems to me you love to see me cryin’. I don’t know why I stay home each night when you say you phone, you don’t and I’m left alone… Can’t you see what you mean to me,” As Maiesha McQueen slowly wrenches these words from her heart, the room’s all hers. The finale’s “It’s a Sin to Tell a Lie” is also a little heartbreaking, considering that McQueen’s character has been hurt from the “stupid words ‘I love you.'” Ouch.
In “Honeysuckle Rose,” a few men watch as their friend dances around a woman who’s sitting and reading. He tells her, “You’re my sugar” and talks about “takin’ sips from your tasty lips,” while she continues to gaze only at her book. Then her (girl) friend walks in and kisses her on the cheek. The two dance seductively, making the men jealous. It’s a humorous moment that returns the power to the women, but amid the levity, there’s a fascinating ambiguity to the mood. Who’s attracting whom? And who’s winning? In the second act’s “Find Out What They Like,” as Charity Angél Dawson’s and McQueen’s characters discuss how “you got to cater to a man, and if you don’t, day and night, he’ll find some other gal to do the things you won’t.” McClain is awkwardly positioned on a bench between the two women, her eyes comically darting left and right, personifying doubt and incredulity about what they’re saying.
Riffing off its theme, the musical seems to ask the question, “What is misbehavin’?” In the first act, the characters’ playful claim that they “Ain’t Misbehavin'” leads into late nights on the street, and in the second act, they assert (but don’t always prove) that they’re “Keepin’ Out of Mischief Now.” They walk a fine line, one Waller may have found through his own rendezvous, between fun-loving and selfishness. Waller, by many accounts, was a ladies’ man who found it difficult to remember to pay child support, let alone come home night after night to the same woman. This production presents us not only with the excitement of his lifestyle, but also with the pain that women like McQueen’s character suffer in the wake.
One of the most profound numbers of the musical, “Black and Blue,” comes just before the finale. The pacing slows as the performers spread themselves out on stage, and each take a few lines of the verse. The crowd’s heads have to move to follow the voices coming at them from all directions. It’s an impactful way to process the show’s only song about race, performed with depth and solemnity. As writ, the lyrics are simple—”I’m so forlorn, life’s a thorn”—but when sung, the number is earnest and absorbing. The performers draw each word out, lingering in the pain. As they sing “my heart is torn,” they rise and formed a line, shoulder to shoulder, to face the audience straight on and confront us with two grave questions: “Why was I born? What did I do to be so black and blue?” It feels like a personal call to action to alleviate societal injustice as these characters question the worth of their own existences in society’s eyes. “I’m white inside, but that don’t help my case. ‘Cause I can’t hide what is on my face.” There are no gimmicks in this moment, just a legacy of pain that should feel further in the past, but is ever-present.
True to Waller’s style, the melancholy doesn’t linger too long. Waller’s easy charm at the piano brings the room back up for a feel-good finale. You can’t help but leave Ain’t Misbehavin’ thoroughly entertained, because all of the performers—whether in the spotlight or not—spend the whole show so thoroughly engaged. The ensemble in its entirety creates a welcoming, cheery world you’ll want to revel in for longer than a couple hours. (So who can blame Fats for coming home late?) When they sing “toes tappin,’ fingers snappin'” during “Spreadin’ Rhythm Around,” they perfectly describe how the audience reacts to their performance. Opening weekend saw many feet bobbing and heads nodding along. At the end of the song “Fat and Greasy,” the audience shouted along with the performers, “Fat and greasy!” as if we were right there in the kitchen with them. I even found myself smiling and laughing aloud at “Your Feet’s Too Big.”
For a climactic culmination of an already high-energy evening, the performers riffed and scatted, all playing pretend instruments except for Waller at the piano. The lightheartedness of the moment sent us into our Halloween night feeling jaunty and ready for a party—although likely not one as boisterous as what we just shared with Waller.
Ain’t Misbehavin’ runs through November 29 at Portland Center Stage. Get your tickets here!
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