Beat For Sparrows brings back the `50s world of the Beats and hipsters in vivid, pungent fashion. Charlie Leeds, the protagonist of this highly original and moving theatrical piece, was an early exponent of bebop, a bass player who honed his musical chops playing in swing bands before crossing over to avant garde groups led by such jazz pioneers as Al Cohn, Terry Gibbs and Brew Moore. Many called Leeds the best bass player of his time, but his star shone only briefly before it was dimmed by his dark, self-destructive urges. Like so many bop musicians, Leeds became strung out on heroin; it was an addiction that stretched out over two decades, landing him in hospitals, clinics and jails. Unable or unwilling to play music, Leeds turned his creative gifts to poetry, producing a sizable body of (unpublished) work which has now been turned into a play by his niece (Karen Schuler) and her writing partner, Richard Miller. Because Leeds wrote in short, jazzlike riffs about a variety of topics, the playwrights faced a daunting dramaturgical challenge which they have overcome with distinction.
Beat For Sparrows opens with a glimpse of Leeds (played vividly by Joseph Lennon McCord) at the end of his life: a homeless wreck of a man shooting up on an Atlantic City seafront bench. As Old Charlie reflects on his past, it is brought to life by Young Charlie (Josh Phillips, in a riveting stage debut) and the love of his life, Rose (the fetching Laura Margolis). Also integral to the story are Noah and God (the charismatic Gerald C. Rivers and David St. James, respectively). They are important because Leeds was constantly asking weighty theological questions in his slangy, irreverent way, demanding to know why life was such a sad, painful comedy. Their answers were never good enough for Leeds, who was tragically unable to find satisfaction or joy in anything but drugs. As his nemesis, Rotten John Calabrese (the devil-like Andrew Lee Barrett), a fellow musician as cunning and meretricious as Leeds is naive and impractical, says snidely, "Why don't you try stepping over the cracks for once." Old Charlie can't help but fall into the cracks, though, and that's why he dies before his time, another fallen sparrow who might have been unmourned if it were not for Schuler and Miller, who rescue him from obscurity and give him the respect and dignity he deserves.
Director Joe Moretti must be given credit too for having found just the right style to make this potentially dowbeat material sing and soar, like one of Charlie Leeds' impassioned bebop solos.
