He Was a Boy, She Was a Goddess — GODDESS Review

In the West African tradition, the griot is an oral historian. They are often musicians and poets, advisors to members of the royal family and keepers of the oral tradition. In Goddess, the thrilling and spell-binding new musical at the Public Theater with music and lyrics by Michael Thurber and a book by Saheem Ali (James Ijames is credited with additional book material), the ensemble is named The Griot Ensemble. And, oh, what a story they have to tell.

Marimba, the goddess of music, on the run from her mother Watamaraka, the goddess of evil, has disguised herself as the mortal Nadira and taken refuge in Mombasa, Kenya. She enchants audiences with her divine singing voice at the raucous underground nightclub Moto Moto, where she keeps a room in the back. She must never leave for fear of falling prey to her vengeful mother. 

That’s all fine until Omari, the young scion of a Kenyan political dynasty, wanders back into the club after years away in the United States. He has come to the club straight from the airport to hide the saxophone he secretly learned to play when he was a child. Once he hears Nadira sing, he’s immediately under her spell. 

Omari has returned to replace his father Hassan (J. Paul Nicholas) as governor. Despite his father’s stringent and tradition-bound campaign against nightlife and the freewheeling denizens of Moto Moto, many of them queer, Omari has a deep love of music and the people who keep Moto Moto running. They include Ahmed and Rashida, the effervescent Nick Rashad Burroughs and Arica Jackson, respectively, two of the people who have made Moto Moto into the joyous place of unity and freedom it is. Their delightful romantic B-plot is at the heart of this story’s comedy. The unsavory owner of the club, Madongo (Jason Bowen), has his eyes on Nadira as well. When he ignores the advice of the seer Balozi (Reggie D. White), the consequences are dire.

Amber Iman glows as the goddess in hiding. Her richly textured and far-reaching voice envelops the audience and makes it easy for us to imagine her as the goddess who is music. Iman has the numinous gravity of a being not of this world and the vulnerability of a mortal woman longing for love. It’s a sensational performance.

If Omari’s family, including his mother Siti (Ayana George Jackson) and his betrothed/campaign manager Cheche (Destinee Rea), gets a little lost in the shuffle in this jam-packed musical, they are a meaningful representation of the tradition Omari is rebelling against. Ayana George Jackson’s second act song “Baobab Roots” is an intense and moving plea to a son she fears losing to more progressive ideals.

Both Omari and Nadira are children running away from inevitable fates handed down to them from their parents. Marimba went into hiding because her mother wanted her to become the goddess of war. When the two combine their music, it’s not just their love for each other that ignites their sound. They are summoning and channeling their ancestry.

The electric ensemble is doing its fair share of summoning and channeling, too. They bring Darrell Grand Moultrie’s athletic choreography to exhilarating new heights. Thurber’s eclectic mix of musical styles provides an exciting backdrop for Moultrie’s mix of traditional and more contemporary movement. Dede Ayite’s sumptuous costumes similarly blend the ancient with the modern to gorgeous effect. 

As director, Saheem Ali has created a world seldom seen on the New York stage. Arnulfo Maldonado’s dazzling set captures the subterranean Moto Moto while foregrounding the presence of the chthonic, reminding us that almighty gods are never far from this story. In combination with Bradley King’s lush lighting and Julian Crouch’s awe-inspiring and terrifying puppetry, it’s a fully realized world where the divine meets the everyday.

Marimba is said to have created the first instrument out of a bow and arrow. The ability to turn strife into beauty is one of music’s greatest gifts and an undercurrent in this high-octane show. It’s as archetypal as any myth and as beautifully human in its celebration of love and joy.

Goddess runs through June 8th at The Public Theater.