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Fela!
Written by Jim Lewis & Bill T. Jones
Music by Fela Anikupalo Kuti
Choreography by Bill T. Jones
Performed by Antibalas Afrobeat
With Sahr Ngaugha, Lillias White, Saycon Sengbloh, Ismael Kouyate
Performing at the Eugene O’Neill Theatre in New York

The music icon Fela Anikupalo Kuti was the unlikely culmination of generations of talent and courage. His grandfather, Jay Jay, was a classical musician with an international reputation. His father was a devout man-of-the-cloth and the strict headmaster of a high school. His mother, Funmilayo, organized a successful women’s movement in Nigeria, stood firm in the face of the colonial authorities, and traveled the world — even meeting Mao Zedong in China during the height of Mao’s cult of personality.

Fela grew up as Nigeria was loosening its colonial shackles, but he soon discovered that colonialism was replaced by equally cruel military dictatorships at the end of British rule in 1960. These many influences led Fela to become a successful band leader and social reformer. He would eventually become so incensed by the rampant corruption that he declared his own independent republic of Kalakuta and ran for president. He became an easy target for Nigerian leadership.

Fela’s unusual path was not, however, inevitable. He could have just as easily become a doctor like his brothers or become a devout Christian. Or he could have secured a lucrative post in the government as a member of the upper echelons of Yoruba social circles. His strong-willed mother influenced him, but Fela’s love for music drove him towards the style he called Afrobeat, which legend has it brought Paul McCartney to tears when he first heard the music in person.

Fela cut dozens of records and moved people’s bodies around the globe. But his legacy in Nigeria is also that of an oral historian — without his records it would be possible to forget that former President Olusegun Obasanjo, who won a democratic election in 1998 and served two terms, was once the former dictator Obasanjo, who came to power during a coup and had his men throw Fela’s mother out a second story window, eventually killing her. Fela sang about what he saw and now we can all remember.

Fela never cut a deal with a major record label because he was afraid to dilute his message. He also didn’t write any endearing love songs like Bob Marley, so his pill was tougher to swallow. He made lots of love — he was a sexual icon who celebrated the sexual act — but his music eschewed sentimentalism. This may have also lessened his appeal.

The Musical: Fela!

Fela’s story is larger than life, both too beautiful and too awful to imagine, and that is why it is fit for a musical. Fela!, playing at the Eugene O’Neill Theatre, puts a celebratory spin on the musician’s immensely complex personality. The theatre and stage are loosely designed to resemble Fela’s own ‘Shrine’, his nightclub where he performed night after night until it was shut down by the government. The walls are draped with strange amalgams of the Yoruba spirit world and corrugated signs.

The story begins with the impending closure of The Shrine by the government. It’s as good of a starting point as any other. Fela, played by the Sierra Leonean Sahr Ngaugah, recounts his life through a series of flashbacks, charting the development of his music and remembering the key personalities in his life. We see glimpses of his life in London, his visit to America during the Black Power movement, and his fear of James Brown’s music, which swept through Africa and haunted him, because he both loved it and disliked its lack of African sentiment. We also watch as he meets the first and most influential of his eventual household of twenty-seven wives. He then explains his Afrobeat music by breaking it down instrument by instrument.

Dancing up a Storm

Many of the songs in the musical are medleys — mash-ups of some of Fela’s more popular songs. The music is performed by members of the Antibalas Afrobeat orchestra, who are perhaps the foremost Afrobeat musicians in the world besides Fela’s eldest son Femi Kuti. It’s worth seeing Fela! just to see this band perform. As usual, they radiate positive energy and shake the house. The exceptional Stuart Bogie performs Fela’s throaty solos with a panache all his own.

The choreography was arranged by Bill T. Jones and it is breathtaking. The dancers move throughout the theatre and perform acrobatic steps that combine ballet, West African dance, and capoeira. I am frankly not sure how Jones found so many accomplished dancers and managed to field them night after night. Their jaunts around the stage are supported by an exceptional lighting crew.

The Dance of the Orisas

The show kicks into high gear in Act II. In this act, we hear Fela’s more famous numbers — including Sorrow, Tears, & Blood and Zombie — and the musical takes some enjoyable risks. The Dance of the Orisas is frankly one of the most beautiful scenes that I have ever seen. Drenched by a blacklight, the dancers dawn Yoruba spiritual costumes as Fela strives to remain strong in the face of beatings and harassment by the Nigerian government.

Getting it Right

As I said before, Fela’s life is complex so it would have been impossible to get it all ‘right’. And it would have been harder to get it right in a musical. However, I found that Fela’s duets and vocals dampened the show. Sahr Ngaugah captures Fela’s confidence, sex appeal, and charisma, but his vocal range seems to be much higher than Fela’s and his baritone notes emerge half-baked. This and the fact that Fela wasn’t so much a singer as a soloist-conductor made these scenes distracting. Fela’s Afrobeat consisted of building the music into a trance so that the vocals were supportive rather than primary. In other words, the numbers sometimes drag on but not in the right ways. These setbacks are balanced by the ethereal, haunting voice of Ismael Kouyate, who sings in multiple roles.

A final point is that the tap dancer is clearly talented, but I don’t think he belongs in this production. I mean, isn’t it enough that ten dancers can flip and leap and tap their bare feet to a polyrhythmic djembe beat? Why does someone have to tap dance too?

A Celebration

Fela! is a celebration of Fela Kuti’s life and not an examination. It touches upon the brutal treatment of his family and his abuse by the government but doesn’t get us too dirty with it. In truth Fela’s life was much worse. He appeared in court over 200 times, served several years in a maximum security prison, and eventually died of AIDS in 1997 while insisting that his sarcoma was ‘new clothing’ draped on him by the gods. He may have suffered from severe post-traumatic stress after such consistent suffering, and his fervent embrace of a Ghanaian mystic during the 1980s confused even his immediate family.

I think it was wise to leave such things out. Fela! is a musical, not a book. You still leave the theatre reminded of the utter joy of the freedom of expression — and the dire costs of living without it.

–Deji Olukotun