Camelot, Fat Ham

Andrew Burnap (center) and company in Camelot. (Joan Marcus)

(Posted 4 /25/23) By Fern Siegel

The revival of the 1960 musical Camelot is very much an Aaron Sorkin production.

Sorkin, best known for The West Wing, wrote the book of the musical, and Bartlet Sher, who directed, have pruned it to its essence, omitting the more fantastical elements of a show plagued with problems in its original debut.

Now at Lincoln Center, Camelot is based on T.H. White’s books of King Arthur and the knights of the round table. At 15, Arthur, a servant boy, pulled the Excalibur sword out of the stone, and was rewarded with a kingdom. A novice at power and politics, he depends on Merlin (Dakin Matthews) for instruction.

But when his mentor dies early in the three-hour musical, Arthur (a likable Andrew Burnap) must forge his own path. He is eager to create knights who believe in honor and justice, rather than warfare, promoting “might for right.” The claim dovetails neatly with Sorkin’s sense of social and political equity. (Sorkin also wrote a Broadway adaptation of To Kill A Mockingbird.)

To end the war with France, Arthur agrees to marry Guenevere (an engaging Phillipa Soo), the French king’s daughter. She is unnerved by the suggestion, being a woman of intelligence, spirit and vision. But when they meet, there is an attraction and embryonic love. He tries to woo her with the lovely ballad “Camelot.” Ironically, their feelings are hidden, rather than celebrated.

In fact, far from being a diplomatic pawn, Guenevere imbues the beautiful Lerner and Loewe songs, such as “The Simple Joys of Maidenhood” and “The Lusty Month of May,” with style and strength. She even suggests Excalibur was easy to remove because so many had tried before. She is Arthur’s equal — and their partnership is productive.

So noble are their aims, a French knight, Lancelot (Jordan Donica) is inspired to join the king’s mission. He also happens to be in love with Guenevere, causing various complications. So does Mordred (Taylor Trensch), Arthur’s illegitimate son, who comes to Camelot to seize the throne.

This Camelot is shorn of elaborate designs, relying on political themes, rather than supernatural elements. Yet, Michael Yeargan sets, Lap Chi Chu’s lighting and Jennifer Moeller’s costumes sustain drama and majesty. The performances, especially Soo and Burnap, carry the day. A 30-piece orchestra makes the music soar, and the cast is uniformly terrific. Sorkin has championed a kingdom that posits a reign with principal and purpose, whatever machinations try to engulf it.

Fat Ham ensemble. (Joan Marcus)

Sustaining one’s purpose is also evident in Fat Ham, a modern take on Hamlet.

Shakespeare’s plays can be appreciated in different ways. Joe Papp was famous for setting the works in different time eras, while adhering to the script. Playwright James Ijames has taken the concept a step further, viewing Hamlet through a black, queer prism.

Fat Ham, the 2022 Pulitzer Prize winner that originally opened at the Public Theater, has moved to Broadway. Now at the American Airlines Theater, it creatively reimagines the classic, set in the current South, during a backyard barbecue.

Since Hamlet is a revenge play, Fat Ham makes that theme its centerpiece. We get allusions to the Danes, though Juicy’s father isn’t a king, and Juicy (Marcel Spears), a young gay black man, is no prince. And while he hates his father’s brother, Uncle Rev (Billy Eugene Jones), for killing his abusive father, he’s not prepared to avenge him.

This new perspective is an interesting and lively one — as is the meditation on masculinity or Juicy’s perceived “softness.” Juicy, who dreams of a career in human resources, is appalled by his uncle and his recent marriage to his mother. Sadness punctuates the presumed celebration.

“What is happy?” his mother (an amazing Nikki Crawford), queen of the barbecue, asks. Juicy is trying to find himself — while his cousin Larry (Calvin Leon Smith) sees him as his solace. (That advice, “to thine own self be true,” was given to Laertes, not Hamlet, in Shakespeare, though it applies to both here.) They struggle, as does cousin Opal (Adrianna Mitchell), with the limited expectations of their elders.

But the specter of Juicy’s late father is never far from the surface. Fat Ham posits a world where children are caught between familial discord and desire. The chance to alter one’s destiny provides a hopeful note that gives Fat Ham a distinct sensibility.

There is much to appreciate here. The ensemble acting, direction and new take are smart and entertaining — and Ijames injects humor in his singular makeover. Still, the overblown ending felt tacked on. It doesn’t feel authentic to Juicy, though it may reveal the too-controlled, inner Larry.

Is the production clever? Yes. Worth seeing? Absolutely. Nods to Shakespeare — the asides, actual monologues — Check. But the show could have ended earlier, while Tio’s (Chris Herbie Holland) stoner monologues seemed shoehorned in. At 90 minutes sans intermission, Fat Ham feels like a streamlined Hamlet for 2023.