“What is human? What is divine?” Those are the opening lines of the recognizably human and borderline divine new musical Goddess, which opened Tuesday at the Public Theater. They’re spoken by the leader of an otherworldly trio that serve as a Kenyan chorus, introducing us to an enchanting world in which heavenly beings commingle with humanity — with rules attached, of course. The goddess of music, Marimba (Amber Iman), has fled the wrath of her wicked, warmongering mother, Wakamaraka — and gone into hiding as a chanteuse in an underground jazz club in Mombasa known as Moto Moto. There, under the name Nadira, she catches the eye of a sax-playing nepo-baby hottie, Omari (Austin Scott), who’s just returned home from grad school in New York City.
The two spark an immediate connection — one that’s cemented when they join forces in song — but there are obstacles in the path to romance of both the divine and human kind. Nadira doesn’t dare leave her underground layer lest she draw the attention of her vengeful mother, which means she must also continually reject the advances of the sketchy club owner (Jason Bowen). Meanwhile, Omari is being pressured by his aging father (J Paul Nicholas), the conservative governor of Mombasa, to abandon his love of music and “caves of sin” like Moto Moto to assume the family legacy and run for governor himself. Also, to marry the equally driven but outwardly deferential woman (Destinee Rea) to whom he’s been betrothed since he was a boy.
Director Saheem Ali, who conceived the show and wrote the book with Pulitzer winner James Ijames (Fat Ham), has crafted a story that draws on African mythology and culture in a way that feels both approachable and authentic. The plot can get convoluted at times, with subplots that go nowhere in particular, but what elevates the material is Michael Thurber’s buoyant, genre-blending score and Darrell Grand Moultrie’s dynamic choreography. The opening number, a high-energy ode to Mombasa, is a rollicking delight — and it’s followed by a sultry, introductory torch song for Iman that’s steamy enough to melt your Playbill. (“My sheets are damp with want,” she coos, “and you’re the one to cool me.”)
Iman, who was a standout in the short-lived Lempicka last year, here sinks into a role that’s worthy of her star qualities — and her ability to project both power and sensuality, whether she’s scatting like Ella Fitzgerald or belting like Whitney Houston in her prime. She can coo silky notes, shift into a growl with vocal fry, and belt with crystalline clarity — sometimes all within the same melodic line. Fittingly, she gets not one but two “I want” songs — “Live in the Music” for her godly ambitions, and “Learn to Love” for her more earthly desires to find romance among the mortals.
She’s well-matched with Scott, who delivers a strong vocal performance while also impressing in a first-act saxophone solo that gets the whole ensemble on its feet. Alas, Scott is also saddled with shoes of cement whenever he leaves the club, when he’s forced to act out the all-too-familiar story of a young man struggling to rebel against his strict, club-hating family and a fiancée to whom he feels more a sense of obligation than affection. We’ve seen this story many times before, and there’s nothing particularly distinctive about this incarnation of it despite the Kenyan setting.
It doesn’t help that the characters in this narrative thread are saddled with some of the weakest songs in Thurber’s mixed bag of a score. Omari’s Act 1 solo is an anticlimactic letdown that ironically meanders around the idea of feeling lost and directionless. Ayana George Jackson, clad in a stylish hijab as Omari’s mom, does what she can with a number that turns on the admonition “Don’t forget your roots, don’t forget your legacy” which is unable to escape feeling generic despite the fact that the tree in question a baobab. Too many of Thurber’s tunes have a muddy flatness to them, particularly in the lyrics, that make them seem more like B-side filler between the up-tempo gems.
But then the onstage band strikes up another banger, like the showstopping “It’s a Date” in the second act — a hilarious showcase for two secondary characters (Arica Jackson and Nick Rashad Burroughs) who finally agree to go out after years of flirtatious banter. Suddenly, the energy in the whole theater lifts as if tied to a helium balloon — elevated too by Dede Ayite’s colorful costumes, Bradley King’s lighting, and Nevin Steinberg’s sound design. (Shout-out also Arnulfo Maldonado’s striking set design, which re-creates the look and feel of an underground grotto for the gods that could also double as the hippest basement club on Earth.)
With a little more paring and focus, Goddess could be a blockbuster. In its current form, it still offers an evening of foot-tapping pleasures and showmanship — and a memorable star turn for the celestial body that is Amber Iman. ★★★★☆
GODDESS
Public Theater, Off Broadway
Running time: 2 hours, 20 minutes (with 1 intermission)
Tickets on sale through June 8 for $113
Culture Sauce 