Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson (Day 7)

Yesterday, we looked at obscure animated musical "The Electric Piper." Today, we look at something much more up to the minute... a history lesson? Not quite. It's the emo sketch comedy historical musical, "Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson." A recent Broadway engagement of this fresh, youthful show did not last long, but became a critical darling while it did.

It is the early nineteenth century, and the notion of populism- the idea that the people's interests should be represented in government, not just the interests of the fat cats- is slowly taking root across the United States. Enter Andrew Jackson, a charismatic, rough-edged and intensely popular politician who appears to be "just a normal guy." His popularity soon spreads as an antidote to the foppish, out-of-touch politicians of Washington. There's just one problem- ever since his settler family's death in his youth, Jackson has had an irrational, almost genocidal hatred of Indians.

The show, rather than progressing in a linear, traditionally theatrical style, tells its story in bite-sized chunks, scene after scene, sketch after sketch. In between the scenes are songs, not so much part of the narrative as commentary by the characters or the ensemble on that moment in the story- or in history. The songs are heavily influenced by early acoustic emo, especially Dashboard Confessional, but draw influences from other notable indie artists as well- a dark rendition of "Ten Little Indians" is clearly patterned after cabaret-goth darlings The Dresden Dolls, while "Illness As Metaphor" is Duncan Sheik all the way down to the staging's winking "Spring Awakening" reference. The emo parallel also works to highlight the nature of Jackson himself- ostensibly a rock star and the people's hero, he is still an emotional cripple, unable to shake off the heartbreaks of his youth and move forward to maturity instead of indulging himself in emotional outbursts and self-destructive behavior. (Perhaps the best example of this parallel is the way bloodletting, a nineteenth-century medical procedure thought to relieve the body's humors, is associated in the show with ritual cutting, the self-mutilation most associated with emo, as Jackson begins to bloodlet more and more as the show goes on.)

The performances are uniformly rough around the edges, played fast and loose and with little polish, but this is undoubtedly intentional. Ben Walker, as Jackson, carries true star power and charisma, even though his voice is not particularly strong. The rest of the cast, for the most part, play a variety of roles- the characters are not so much deliniated as genericized caricatures, putting on a ruffled collar to become a Washington politician, or an Indian headband to become a tribesman. The feel throughout is of sketch comedy and improv- not unlike a Team Starkid production, in fact, but on Broadway and, clocking in at under 90 minutes, MUCH shorter.

Everything about the show resonates with hipster culture, the perpetually ironic, tongue-in-cheek Americana kitsch-based movement that has sprung out of indie and emo culture in the past five years and become a stylistic revolution. Yet, just like in the best emo, below the piercing irony is a true vein of emotion- can we feel sympathy for Jackson, the man who relocated the Indians west in the infamous "Trail of Tears?" Despite all of his great accomplishments, the ending makes it very clear that there is no historical consensus on Jackson's life, and that he is often considered either the greatest president, or "an American Hitler." Love him or hate him, there seems to be no in between possible with Jackson, and sadly, the same fate seems to have applied to the show- critics loved it, but audiences ignored it. Still, if you get a chance to see this show, definitely take the opportunity. At less than an hour and a half, it won't take long out of your day, and you're almost certain to leave with a different perspective on history than you came in with. Not that it isn't funny- just that, as the show claims in its ending moments, "You can't shoot history in the throat."

Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson: A-

LESSON FOR ACTORS: Always remain one hundred percent committed to what you're doing onstage. Never allow yourself to break or relax- the murder of one of the female ensemble members during the curtain call leaves her lying dead onstage through bows, exit music and the audience's departure, but she never once moves or acknowledges that it's "only a show."
WARNING FOR ACTORS: Make sure you differentiate your characters from each other, when called upon to play many people in the course of a show. The one male ensemble member who plays multiple characters from a cobbler to a messenger to a politician uses the same mincing camp-gay voice for all of them, even though it is clearly not only not his real voice, but not the same character. This could be a directorial choice, but every other actor makes different choices for their individual characters, making this one stand out like a sore thumb, even though a few of his appearances are indeed highlights.

LESSON FOR WRITERS: Think outside the box- don't be afraid to make bold or unexpected choices to subvert the medium. Two of "Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson's" greatest moments are a montage of Jackson cutting himself to an upbeat recording of Cher singing "Song for the Lonely," and the assassination of the narrator in mid-speech early on during the show.

WARNING FOR WRITERS: In an earlier post, I talked about rhythm and tempo- rhythm being the overall feel of the play's movement and progression, and tempo being the speed or sensation of motion of how the play moves through its rhythm. When a show is very short, just like when it is very long, watching rhythm and tempo are very important, and this show occasionally feels rushed, or dragging, because of it.