Passing Strange Explores Questions of Identity

Aaron Reed looks a bit awkward when he first takes the stage in the musical Passing Strange at The Studio Theater (through August 8). Reed plays a young Stew, the singer-songwriter behind the band The Negro Problem, in this musical about his life. (No worries--I hadn't heard of Stew either until Passing Strange premiered on Broadway last year). Passing Strange covers the period of Stew's creative germination, from the time he leaves his LA home as a teenager through his travels in Amsterdam and Berlin. When Reed first emerges, he plays the role of the uncertain teenager perfectly. He argues with his mother about not going to church, and needing to "find himself." But Reed's affected, whiny speaking voice transforms into a robust baritone when he sings. Halfway through the first half, Stew gets his wish and leaves for Amsterdam.

Stew undergoes the typical young adult trials of love and drugs. Meanwhile, his mother (Deidra LaWan Starnes) implores him to return home. Naturally, Stew ignores these wishes and continues his adventures on to Berlin in the second act.

Narrating throughout is the appropriately named character, "Narrator." Played by Stew himself in the Broadway production, this figure can also be thought of as an older Stew looking back on his life. He is expertly portrayed by Jahi Kearse in this production. The Narrator doubles as part of the band, and serves as a tongue-in-cheek link between the fiction of the stage and the reality of the audience. He makes many comments pointing out the fact that we're watching a performance.

Most importantly, the Narrator allows The Studio Theatre to adopt a minimalist approach to Passing Strange. The Narrator can tell us what city Stew's in without any fancy sets. Studio Theatre's Stage 4 is hardly even a stage. The raised platform is only a few feet--just enough room for Stew's mother to perch when she is singing from LA.The ensemble roams about the floor at the same level as the audience. Actually, we are higher because of the stadium seating. By stripping away all gratuitous flourishes, this approach forces audiences to connect with the actors. We can focus on the story and Stew's dilemmas. The jokes are also more heartfelt when close up. When Stew explains why he can't go home to see her, his mother responds "Your deep concern for yourself is really moving."

Though it covers some traditional themes, Passing Strange is no cliched bildungsroman. It also deals with issues of black identity and reality in art. When Stew is in Berlin he embraces the impoverished black American as his true self. He tells everyone that he grew up in the ghetto, where he dealt with hate every day. An ironic duet then ensues with Stew telling these stories of woe juxtaposed with his mother's stories of the American dream. "What will I do alone in my big two story house?" she sings as Stew tries to paint a portrait of himself as someone who grew up in a crack house.

Passing Strange explores authenticity without shoving it down out throats. The questions of what make's Stew's identity authentic are asked, but not fully resolved. The Narrator wryly remarks "Aren't you shocked when you find out that your life was determined by the decisions of a teenager?" We can all relate to those moments when you think of how different you are from previous years. Sometimes it takes years--more years than the period covered in Passing Strange--to figure out what one's identity truly is.