Omari (Austin Scott) plays saxophone at the Moto Moto nightclub, while Ahmed (Nick Rashad Burroughs, center right) sings in the musical Goddess.
The new musical Goddess signals from the get-go that it has Broadway ambitions. Vivid with saturated colors, eye-catching in Arnulfo Maldonado’s underground nightclub, and bursting with energetic dancing and singing, the Public Theater production is a grand assemblage of first-rate talent. And, as in the long-running Hadestown, another show with a subterranean setting, the characters are a mixture of supernatural entities and humans.
Narrated by a Greek chorus, as it were, of African griots, the show is set in Mombasa, Kenya, and follows an ancient myth about Marimba (a regal Amber Iman), the titular deity, who longs to be the goddess of music after watching its effect on mortals. But she is fated to inherit the mantle of her mother Watamaraka, the goddess of evil (envisioned by puppeteer Julian Crouch as a giant scowling mask). “Love?” says Watamaraka. “That is a frivolous human fascination. It makes you weak. We are gods, and you are a fool to try to love.”
Omari listens to advice from his mother Siti (Ayana George Jackson) in Goddess.
After Watamaraka threatens to lock up her rebellious daughter, Marimba flees to a nightclub called Moto Moto, set in a cavern, where she becomes literally the underground attraction of Mombasa:
Beneath this very dance floor is where it all began
Music was first made by Marimba’s very hand
The rhythms here are sacred
Our melodies are prayers
And once you catch the spirit you’ll see
Nothing else compares.
But Marimba, now going by Nadira, cannot leave the safety of the cavern. There she meets a young saxophone player, Omari (Austin Scott), who has his own parental issues. He has returned home from America because his father, Hassan, the governor of Mombasa, is ailing, and Omari is expected to continue the political dynasty. Although Hassan, a Muslim, is hell-bent on shuttering nightclubs, Omari has secretly played music at Moto Moto and hopes to continue to do so.
Omari finds himself falling for Nadira (Amber Iman), unaware that she is an African goddess in mortal form.
In spite of Act II lyrics that state, “This is an African story / A new addition to the repertory,” the creators rely on some familiar musical comedy tropes. Besides the star-crossed couple of Omari and Nadira/Marimba, there are also secondary, comic lovers, akin to Lois Lane and Bill Calhoun in Kiss Me, Kate or Ado Annie and Will Parker in Oklahoma! Here the roles are taken by Arica Jackson as Rashida, a pink-haired worker at Moto Moto, to whom Omari entrusts his sax for safe-keeping. Rashida is being pursued by Ahmed (Nick Rashad Burroughs), the nightclub’s emcee, who tries to wheedle a date:
Ahmed: Come on, what harm can a little date do?
Rashida: Ahmed, we’ve been through this. I don’t date at work. That’s my rule. So … fly! Fly away!
Those touchstones may make an American audience a bit less disoriented with the African myth and raise the hope that the lovers will win out in the end. But eventually the obstacles seem insurmountable. J Paul Nicholas’s Hassan, for instance, is intractable after Omari suggests seeking votes among the nightclub’s clientele:
Omari: Before the fundraiser, what if I make an appearance somewhere like Moto Moto. It’s very popular and—
Hassan: Are my ears hearing correctly? You want to be seen in that … cave of sin. That poison to society. … My baba [father] used to warn me about the people who go there. The lost. The sinners.
From left: Brandon Alvíon, Quiatae Mapenzi Johnson, Wade Watson and Christina Jones hold up the masked faces of Watamaraka’s evil minions in Goddess.
The doctrinaire Hassan is just one red flag among many that disappointment is in the offing. Omari’s mother is almost equally as determined to guide her son:
These privileges you have
You did not earn yourself
You are still the youngest of our family legacy.
Moreover, Omari has a Muslim fiancée (Destinee Rea) to whom he has been betrothed since childhood. The emotional tension between duty and desire are made all the keener by Scott’s warmth and intelligence.
There are other threads that forecast problems. Pursued unwillingly by the overbearing nightclub owner Madongo, Marimba (through her mother’s minions) wreaks revenge in a stunning Act I finale to which Bradley King’s lighting contributes mightily. The extent of Marimba’s responsibility for Madongo’s fate is clouded by myth, but Iman, too, infuses the goddess’s dilemma with power:
I’ve learned too well what the humans do
But I don’t want to hide anymore
What if neither of us lied anymore.
Ultimately, the story boils down not to whether Omari and Marimba can find happiness together, but to a parallel intellectual question: What is the importance of music to mankind? It remains to be seen whether a superb score and stunning visuals will help to elevate the piece to the lasting musical theater repertory.
The Public Theater’s production of Goddess runs through June 15 at Lafayette Street. Evening performances are at 7 p.m. Tuesday through Sunday (8 p.m. on May 28; no evening performance June 8); matinees are at 1 p.m. Saturday and Sunday, and Wednesday, June 4. For tickets and more information, visit publictheater.org.
Music & Lyrics: Michael Thurber
Book & Direction: Saheem Ali
Additional Book Material: James iJames
Choreography: Darrell Gran Moultrie
Sets: Arnulfo Maldonado
Costumes: Dede Ayite
Lighting: Bradley King
Sound: Nevin Steinberg
