Theatre in Review: Hands on a Hardbody (Brooks Atkinson Theatre)

	Photo: Chad Batka

The people behind Hands on a Hardbody have gotten their hands on a rich piece of material, and it's a pity that they don't know what to do with it. Their subject, taken from the 1997 documentary of the same name, is the bizarre, only-in-Texas phenomenon by which contestants vie to win a Nissan truck by standing with one hand on said vehicle until everyone else collapses from exhaustion, dehydration, or nervous stress. It's a kind of stationary dance marathon, and, like those exercises in public cruelty, it attracts a band of the poor and desperate, each of them hoping to turn his or her luck around with an automotive windfall. ("Funny, isn't it? American Dream, Japanese car," one of them notes ruefully.)

On paper, it must have looked appealing: A tale of everyday folk struggling to get ahead in a brutal economic climate would seem tailor-made for today's audiences. In his previous works (especially I Am My Own Wife and Grey Gardens), the librettist, Doug Wright, has demonstrated a knack for fleshing out bizarre and marginal characters. The combination of songwriters Amanda Green and Trey Anastasio promised a marriage of country authenticity and Broadway polish. A cast of solid pros, led by Hunter Foster and Keith Carradine, seemed to seal the deal. As Elaine Stritch, listing the illustrious personnel on one of her flops, once said, "Ya'd think, wouldn't you?"

In practice, however, Hands on a Hardbody proves stubbornly resistant to the demands of musical theatre. With most of the cast standing in place for two acts, the authors are hard-pressed to come up with any kind of meaningful action; they also appear to be casting about for a point of view. After a strong opening number, "Human Drama Kind of Thing," which assembles the full lineup of strivers, losers, and dreamers, each convinced that glory is just around the corner, the show dawdles through a series of dullish numbers that underline the show's essentially static nature. Especially weak is "If I Had This Truck," which doesn't do nearly enough to raise the competition's emotional stakes. Things pick up considerably during, "I'm Gone," a wistful expression of wanderlust delivered by Jay Armstrong Johnson and Allison Case as a pair of innocents with Hollywood dreams, and immediately after that, the theatre is shaken to its foundations during "Joy of the Lord," delivered by Keala Settle, as a young Pentecostal suddenly seized with the Holy Spirit.

Even so, it is halfway through the first act and the characters aren't coming to life. Wright has provided little more than outlines, and the songs don't fill in the necessary details. ("Joy of the Lord" stops the show but tells you nothing you didn't already know about Settle's character.) Carradine is the oldest of the contestants, and, in a scene of gentle sparring with his exasperated wife (a nice turn by Mary Gordon Murray), we learn that in taking part he is risking his fragile health -- a point that is more or less dropped after that. Foster's blunt, abrasive manner as Benny, a previous winner who isn't above psychological combat, is initially intriguing; too bad that the eleven o'clock number, "God Answered My Prayers," reduces him to the victim of a single -- and heavily telegraphed -- tragedy. As the corrupt Nissan dealer and his exasperated marketing director, Jim Newman and Connie Ray are trapped in a subplot that fizzles all too quickly.

Now and then, the story threatens to find a focus. "Born in Laredo" is a nicely controlled expression of rage delivered by Jon Rua as an American-born veterinary student who is fed up with being treated like an illegal immigrant, and "Used to Be" is a touching lament for a lost rural landscape wiped out by "Walmart, Walgreens, Wendy's" and other faceless chain enterprises. (As someone wistfully notes, "If it looks the same wherever you roam/How do you know when you've gotten home?") But it is telling that, as the entrants drop out one by one, you hardly feel a thing. The story's uglier elements -- especially the idea of near-destitute victims of a soured American Dream being publicly exploited in a brutal competition for a shiny object that, at the end of the day, won't begin to solve their problems -- might make for a more compelling drama, but the authors are interested in homespun humor and bland affirmations. This is glaringly obvious in the finale, "Keep Your Hands on It," with everyone looking bright-eyed, their hope and self-confidence restored, thus invalidating everything we've seen for two-and-a-half hours.

In any case, the director, Neil Pepe, and choreographer, Sergio Trujillo, keep the pace lively; Trujillo finds some genuinely inventive ways of getting movement into what is essentially a two-act tableau. Christine Jones' setting, which places the truck against an empty billboard frame covered with weather-worn fragments of long-gone ads, strikes the right note of desolation, and Kevin Adams provides a variety of looks ranging from blood-red dawns to gently fading afternoon sunsets. Susan Hilferty's costumes have a hangdog air of authenticity; thanks to them -- and the capable cast -- you believe that these people have been standing in the hot Texas sun for days. Steve Canyon Kennedy's sound design is a tad loud for my taste, but it is reasonably clear; he also provides a variety effects, ranging from thunder to the constantly repeated jingle for the radio station covering the contest.

Hands on a Hardbody is an especially distressing case because it is the work of real talents committed to doing something new and original. Once in a while, you can see what they were going for, but for too much of its running time, this engine never turns over.--David Barbour