Nowhere is the contrast between today’s Broadway and off-Broadway more sharply defined than in the productions of Tina: The Tina Turner Musical at the Lunt-Fontanne and the revival of Ntozake Shange’s 1976 groundbreaking for colored girls who have considered suicide/When the rainbow is enuf, off-Broadway at the Public Theater. Both give glorious voice to African-American women dealing with sexist and racial oppression, but they could not be more different in their production history, form and delivery. Tina is a sleek jukebox musical, spectacularly entertaining but made from a cookie-cutter template, arriving on Broadway as a pre-sold commodity after a smash run in London, aided by the public’s familiarity with Turner’s inspiring story through her autobiography and the 1993 film, “What’s Love Got to Do with It.”
Katori Hall, one of the few black women playwrights since Hansberry and Shange to see their work on the Great White Way, is the author of Tina’s book (along with Frank Ketelaar and Kees Prins). Interestingly, jukebox musicals have become a rare income source for writing women of color. Dominique Morisseau authored Ain’t Too Proud: The Life and Times of the Temptations, and two-time Pulitzer Prize winner Lynn Nottage penned the libretto for the upcoming MJ, the Michael Jackson musical.
Tina’s raw material bears a striking resemblance to the stories of Carole King and Cher and, to a lesser extent, Donna Summer, music stars whose lives have also been Broadway-ized. Turner, like King and Cher, was a phenomenally talented performer “discovered” at a young age by a domineering male who provided her with the platform to shine, then married and abused her (though Gerry Goffin and Sonny Bono did not physically abuse their wives as Ike Turner did to Tina). Like the other legendary ladies, Tina eventually left her toxic spouse, and after setbacks, outshone him in a blazing career transformation.
Hall’s economic script and Phyllida Lloyd’s fluid direction acknowledge that this is a familiar story, albeit a true one, and move us quickly to what audiences want to see—the extraordinary Adrienne Warren channeling but not imitating Turner in a series of heart-stopping production numbers of the subject’s hits such as “Better Be Good to Me,” “Private Dancer,” and, of course, “Proud Mary.” Mark Thompson’s flexible sets and costumes help make transitions swiftly and smoothly.
Hall and her collaborators do not shoehorn in the songs, as was the case with the campy Mamma Mia!, another jukebox tuner also directed by Lloyd. Here the placements mostly make sense and illustrate key moments in Turner’s journey, such as when she gives “River Deep, Mountain High” a centered resonance during a solo recording session, establishing herself outside of Ike’s influence.
Warren captures the essence of Turner’s growly, sexy stage personae vocally and in movement (Anthony Van Laast created the kinetic choreography). She also gives an explosively real account of Turner’s fiery determination to survive and triumph over the physical and emotional assaults of the dangerously volatile Ike (Daniel J. Watts in an equally layered turn) and the indifference of a fickle music business. As of now, Warren is the leading contender for a Best Musical Actress Tony.
Dawnn Lewis exudes anger and frustrated love as Tina’s withholding mother, Myra Lucretia Taylor balances with maternal warmth as the grandmother, and Skye Dakota Turner is a tiny explosion of talent as young Tina. Tina may be one of many jukebox musicals, but it’s definitely among the best of the genre.
