Before he met Elvis Presley, Sun Records founder/producer Sam Phillips bluntly described the kind of talent he was looking for. The infamous quote long attributed to him: “If I could find a white boy who could sing like a Black man, I’d make a million dollars.” He found that voice in Presley, though the million dollars (and so many millions more) would end up with RCA records and not Phillips.
The roots of Presley’s material and inspiration leap to life in Black Ensemble Theater’s “Elvis Presley was a Black Man Named Joe,” penned and directed by the company’s founding artistic director Jackie Taylor. Running through April 20 at the Ravenswood theater, the show is a soulful, hip-swiveling ode to Presley and the Black artists — Fats Domino, Otis Blackwell, Little Richard and Chuck Berry among them — who helped make him a star.
With over two dozen songs, Taylor’s hallelujah of a musical feels like a celebration, a benediction and a cause for optimism all at once. It’s also an ebullient concert of Presley tunes backed by an air-tight band.
Taylor wraps autobiography around the ensemble’s renditions of hits including “Jailhouse Rock,” “Return to Sender,” “Heartbreak Hotel” and “All Shook Up,” creating a narrative centered on her late brother, Joe (Dennis Dent). Joe’s story is framed and remembered by two versions of his sister, Janet (Rhonda Preston) and Young Janet (Britt Edwards), both women versions of Taylor herself.
Early on, Taylor’s dialogue lays out how much Joe and Elvis in common:
Both grew up without much money: Janet and Joe in Chicago’s infamous Cabrini Green complex (where the musical is largely set) and Presley in a shotgun shack in Tupelo, Missouri. Joe and Elvis went into the military as young men. Both became addicts. Both died young. Both are celebrated in “Elvis Presley was a Black Man.”
As kids, we learn, Janet and Joe spent entire days watching Elvis movies and eating 10-cent bags of popcorn at the (long-ago demolished) Windsor movie theater. The siblings were fiercely bonded, especially by Presley’s music.
That music hits immediately at BET, in an overture popping with Presley riffs. Music director Robert Reddrick keeps things moving throughout with a band (led by Oscar Brown Jr. on bass, Myron Cherry on drums, Adam Sherrod on keyboards and Charles “Chip” DuBose on guitar) that delivers bangers, bops and ballads with power and dexterity.
The cast is anchored by Preston and Edwards, who move the time-frame from Janet’s present-day reflections and reminiscences to Young Janet’s life in Cabrini Green with her family, which includes her mother (Melanie McCullough, who manages to make Mom both universal and high-specific) and father (Jaitee Thomas, finding droll comedy in family dynamics) as well as Joe. Set/lighting designer Denise Karczewski has created a memorable backdrop to evoke the famous, massive public housing project where the family live. A towering brick wall bears the legend “Cabrini Green” on top, projections of Cabrini’s blocky, looming buildings behind. The wall spins on its axis, and we’re inside the apartment Janet shares with her family.
The story begins with the titular song, one of two penned by Taylor for the show. With a smooth-sounding quartet (Dwight Neal, Trequon Tate, Destin Warner and Direoce Junirs) that can move from croon to rock in the space of a few bars, the foursome sets the bar for what’s to come.
Everyone in the ensemble gets a moment to shine. When Preston lets loose on “Lovin’ You,” her voice seems powerful enough to move mountains. In “Just Joe” (the second song penned by Taylor), Edwards moves from hushed sorrow to tsunamic empowerment.
Junirs’ velvety baritone makes for a haunting rendition of “In the Ghetto.” As Little Richard, Warner delivers a killer version of “Rip it Up.” McCullough’s take on “Unchained Melody” swells to crescendos that feel big enough to reach the moon.
Choreographer Christopher Chase Carter keeps things moving, literally. Particularly striking: In the all-hands-on-deck “Jail House Rock,” when the cast is near-perfectly synched with video projections of Presley’s iconic video (striped shirts, jail cell bars) for the song.
Taylor, who designed the costumes with Evelyn Danner, decks out the cast with snazzy showmanship. Little Richard shines in ruby-red slippers and a jacket with Liberace-levels of sparkle. The opening quartet exudes effortless cool in fitted leather jackets. In “Jailhouse Rock,” everyone sports stripes. And the finale’s gowns and suits in gold, cream and white look heavenly.
“Elvis Presley was a Black Man Named Joe” deals with grief as much as joy. There’s great loss embedded in the production to be sure, but Taylor’s work has long been about thriving as well as surviving. So it is here, in a show that bursts with energy and makes a truly joyful noise.