The Wiz

The Wiz has always seemed a bit like that Chorus Line song about the dancer whose steps outstrip her bod: “Dance: Ten; Looks: Three.” With The Wiz, it’s more like, “Music: Seven; Book: Two.” In this African-American take on L. Frank Baum’s timeless tale, Brown’s book lacks both emotional pull and thematic push, yet despite a borderline bland score, Smalls offers enough tunes—“Ease on Down the Road,” “Brand New Day,” “Home”—that the right set of actors with the right set of lungs could sell. White Horse has gathered an untested cast with choppy vocal chops, making for a gamely spirited yet decidedly amateurish show. Gerald Richardson as Tin Man and Bethany Thomas as the evil Evillene stand head, if not shoulders, above the others in the quality of their voices and fullness of their performances. But any version of Baum’s story rests largely on the tornado-tossed Kansan. Samara Smith gives little sense of Dorothy’s wide-eyed wonder, trekking through Oz as if she’s seen it before.

More inventive or playful staging would’ve diverted our attention, but director Joseph, rather than working in tandem with his designers, instead relies on them to create an atmosphere that his flat-footed direction doesn’t. Costume designer Alison Siple has stitched together some fetching, if derivative, outfits (Funky Monkeys with umbrellas for wings). The lights turn green in Emerald City, but here, as in Evillene’s Lair, the director doesn’t evoke what the characters describe; words and image score disparately.—Novid Parsi