June 20--Two nights after nine black men and women were massacred in a church in Charleston, S.C., a leading Chicago jazz musician took on a landmark novel that unflinchingly confronted racism in America: Richard Wright's "Native Son."
Even if drummer-composer Dana Hall had not explicitly referenced Wednesday's killings in his world-premiere composition Friday evening in Orchestra Hall, it would have been difficult to miss parallels between past and present, fiction and non-fiction. For just as Wright in 1940 explored the fears and hatreds that lead to murder in his "Native Son," Hall illuminated the same themes -- and their dire consequences -- in his evening-length opus: "The Hypocrisy of Justice: Sights and Sounds of the Black Metropolis (Riffin' and Signifyin(g) on Richard Wright's 'Native Son')."
That's a lot of verbiage for a single title, but the scope of the subject matter merited it. Seventy-five years after Wright's Chicago novel jolted America with its harrowing view of the effects of racism on everyone, Hall unflinchingly showed how much of our world remains the same at this late date.
But "The Hypocrisy of Justice" was neither a dramatization of "Native Son" nor a recitation of modern-day crimes. Instead, Hall -- aided by Cheryl Lynn Bruce's exceptionally poetic script and actor Wendell Pierce's soaring delivery of it -- delved into the emotional inner life of Wright's infamous protagonist, Bigger Thomas. At the same time, "The Hypocrisy of Justice" cited recent killings from Charleston to Baltimore to Ferguson, Mo. In effect, dual narratives intertwined on this evening, to often chilling effect.
Though Hall's opus clearly needs some editing, primarily via tightened instrumental sections and somewhat expanded text, it proved compelling on both musical and conceptual terms. The balance between jazz and poetry may have been out of alignment, but judicious fine-tuning would yield a still stronger work.
At the core of "The Hypocrisy of Justice" -- which was commissioned by Symphony Center -- stood Hall's powerhouse quintet, plus four additional musicians. These jazz artists appeared in various contexts, from solo to nonet, as the shifting moods of Hall's score demanded. More important, the music spanned a wide range of jazz idioms, from bebop-tinged passagework evoking Wright's era to the free-form improvisation you might encounter in a jazz club today. Hall's score, in other words, palpably linked past to present, in so doing tracing the sweep of the American story of the last several generations.
The piece opened with "The Power of Three Suite: Three Songs for Native Sons," the importance of the number "three" surely not lost on anyone who has read Wright's book: It divides bluntly into three sections -- "Fear," "Flight" and "Fate." Hall's instrumental triptych proved an enticing curtain-raiser, from the unsettlingly shifting rhythms of "The Swirling River" to the chorale-like four-horn writing of "The Party Line" to Tim Warfield Jr.'s explosive tenor saxophone solos in "Race Matters."
This was a tantalizing prelude to the work's first major soliloquy, which Hall launched by shouting "Wake up, Bigger," referring to Wright's complexly wrought anti-hero. Actor Pierce took up Bruce's text from here, giving lyrical voice to the oppressive frustrations of Thomas' daily life: no job, no money, no hope. But with a few carefully sculpted lines, writer Bruce added dimension to Thomas' character, as in the passages in which he expressed his love of music. In Bruce's eyes, Thomas is not just a killer; he's human, too.
Many of the instrumental movements that followed made vivid impact, particularly Tomeka Reid's imploring cello solos, guitarist Jeff Parker's sinewy cadenzas and trumpeter Marquis Hill's impeccably crafted musical arguments. A section for trombonist Vincent Gardner, using plunger mute, and pianist Bruce Barth reveled in blues language. Ensemble music featuring nearly hysterical wailing from Hill, Warfield, Gardner and saxophonist Steve Wilson -- with police lights flashing above and behind them -- conjured the delirium that Wright's fictional character would have felt as the world was closing in on him.
But not all of Hall's instrumental writing was tautly conceived. Several passages that featured one musician after another and another taking an extended solo sounded nearly formulaic, notwithstanding a profoundly contemplative statement from bassist Clark Sommers and relentless churn from Hall.
And it wasn't until nearly the end of the evening that we heard a second soliloquy from Pierce, as penned by Bruce. This one was even more rhetorically inspired and dramatically delivered than the first, but it was too little, too late. Moreover, in a composition obviously built around the number "three," a third speech seems essential. Such a segment, perhaps positioned somewhere near the middle of the work, might have gone a long way toward giving the text the prominence it deserved.
Still, "The Hypocrisy of Justice" held plenty of searing moments, none more devastating than when Hall cried out "nine shots," ostensibly an allusion to the recent Charleston killings. The drummer then fired off, one by one, nine excruciatingly loud and slow staccato attacks, with stark silence between each one. The gesture recalled the unnerving "Forty Lashes" scene in Wynton Marsalis' "Blood on the Fields" and was no less effective.
A spare set by artist Kerry James Marshall, Bruce's husband, featured brick walls that hemmed in the musicians on stage, reflecting the claustrophobia of Thomas' world. But Marshall also included a small Christmas tree and cut-outs of enormous flowers, symbols of hope largely absent from the novel but conveyed sublimely in the serene last movement of Hall's composition, "Phoenix."
Just as Marsalis' large jazz works never reach final form on opening night, with more honing left to do, "The Hypocrisy of Justice" stands as an already important piece that would benefit from revision. If Hall, director of jazz studies at DePaul University, chooses to do so, he will have created a potentially lasting statement that ought to be recorded.
For his urgent concerns -- and Wright's -- clearly need to be heard now.
Howard Reich is a Tribune critic.
hreich@tribpub.com
