REVIEW: 'Bloody, Bloody Andrew Jackson' at The New Century Theatre

Late for the party again. And this time it was a big party indeed. I never imagined myself as the kind of person who’d ever cross a picket line, so walking up to The New Century Theatre on OpeningNight of Bloody, Bloody Andrew Jackson I was immediately thrust into a personal dilemma by members of the Native Community who crowded the entrance with posters, leaflefts and shouted slogans. The protests were set off (or so it seems from the outside) by an open letter to the Minneapolis Theatre Community posted by Native playwright Rhiana Yazzie here on Minnesota Playlist. We’ve linked to the letter because Rhiana’s essay is so passionate and complex you’d best read it for yourself if you want a clear understanding of her objections to the piece (objections shared by at least a subset of the Native Community, to judge from attendance at the protest). For myself, I was torn. I didn’t want to cross any picket line, but, having not seen the play, I didn’t honestly know which side to take. It was even more difficult for my companion, a Public Defender (let’s call her PB) who often finds herself professionally on the side of protestors across The Cities. It was PB who pointed out the lurking police presence (he really was lurking, under a staircase), which she insisted was most likely positioned to arrest the protestors once the media and the playgoers had all gone into the theatre, rather than to protect them from any anticipated backlash. I don’t mean to paint a picture of a media circus – it was far from that, but much more pushback than I’ve seen for any show in the decade I’ve lived and worked here. It’s a shame there wasn’t an actual play at the center of all the controversy. In fact, Bloody, Bloody Andrew Jackson is so loud, messy and juvenile I actually wondered if it might be one of those musicals that’s not actor or director proof. It was such a huge sensation in New York City, after all, it couldn’t possibly have been this bad (grouse all you want about NYC, but in general, my old hometown knows what it’s doing when it comes to the performing arts). My best guess is the echo of Andrew Jackson’s populist rise with the rhetoric of the Republican Right made Downtown audiences more generous and receptive than we might be a few years on from the Bush Administration. Indeed, I was surprised to find the first performance of Andrew Jackson was way back in 2006, so closely does Jackson’s rise hue to the Tea Party line (the Tea Party, you may recall, is that non-racist political movement that coincidentally rose up in opposition to the first African-American President). Still, there was a small sense that this material could be explosive in more capable hands. The book and music have a rock cabaret feel, but the Urinetown-like sloppiness of the execution may have been a directorial choice. For my taste, you only get one Urinetown – everyone else is just being lazy. So I’ll concede there’s perhaps a tightly executed version of Andrew Jackson somewhere in the U.S. that actually delivers the black comedy fun promised by the premise. As for the controversy surrounding the production – I have to be honest, I’m an absolutist when it comes to the right of artists to create. There are definite – often outrageous – imbalances when it comes to access and allocation of resources – and because they’re so egregious, that’s where I’d prefer to keep the conversation. When it comes to content – even, or especially, offensive content – well, artists are supposed to be working with their unconscious, and if we start policing whatever ugliness may reside there, I would argue we lose whatever usefulness we have to the community at large. I have no doubt Alex Timbers and Michael Friedman created Andrew Jackson with the best of intentions – to have some fun while cracking open a shameful period in U.S. history. Should they have brought on a Native consultant of some kind? Perhaps, but how does that guarantee any outcome except one that might be “approved” by the community (allowing for the idea that this consultant would somehow speak for his or her entire community)? Does a community, even a community that’s suffered terrible crimes, have the right to police the arts? Does an artist have any obligation to be historically accurate? These are enormous questions, and we can only address them on a case-by-case basis. For myself, I wonder if the creators didn’t go far enough with Andrew Jackson. They keep winking at us from behind the bloody knife, somehow unwilling to go all the way with the bleakness of their comedy. Most muted is Jackson’s passionate hatred of the Natives, which burns bright at the top of the show but becomes more conflicted as the piece goes on. This kind of reflection is certainly appropriate to historical theatre, but maybe not to a play that bills itself Bloody, Bloody. The vagueness of their attitude toward their main character may account for some of the backlash – I can’t speak to the historical inaccuracies, but, as I intimated above, I’m not sure a play has any obligation to historical truth, or any obligations at all, really, except what the artist owes to him or her self. I don’t think you need be a member of a particular community to understand and empathize with the struggles they’ve been through (in fact, as a theatre artist, I find that idea offensive), but Bloody, Bloody Andrew Jackson is small beer and may best just be ignored. Yes, it’s irritating that it’s gotten so much attention and so many resources – but it’s not uncommon in the theatre world for facile work to be heaped with riches – one grows wearily accustom to it or leaves the field. But for myself and PB – our conversation after the show centered around her public defense work, and the (as she explained it) growing crackdown on civil liberties all across the Twin Cities. It was a vigorous exchange of ideas, sparked by the free expression of grievances from Rhiana and her compatriots in the Native Community. As for Bloody, Bloody Andrew Jackson – we had already forgotten it.