Now Frazier enters. In his scene, Gershwin attempts an ambitious mix of accompanied recitative over variations on an engagingly perky motif, occasional spoken lines, and big choral interjections. Much of the orchestral interplay is fun to listen to, but the effort to keep Frazier singing is compromised by awkwardly set lines that are hard to sing, hard to keep clear, and full of temptations to embarrassing “character voice” choices to get points across. (Though in the Met production, I wanted to jump onstage and shake the hand of Arthur Woodley, the only soloist to that point to consistently enunciate the sung dialect understandably.) The only lines in this scene that cry out for musical setting are the choral responses. So I’m in favor of getting conductor and director together to woodshed on an arrangement that keeps them, but puts most of the solo lines into spoken dialogue, interspersing some of the nice accompanimental material or using it for underscoring, and retaining the occasional eloquent sung line (for instance, Porgy’s “I’m agoin’ to buy you a divorce,” or Frazier’s concluding lines). That would play with greater clarity and concision, and if Frazier (like the Detective—see previous post) is cast with an actor of authority who really tries to make his proposition credible and important, would also mitigate the cartoonish incredulity factor.

That manner of playing the Frazier scene would then segue easily into the Archdale scene, which is already set that way. It means we lose the distinction between the always-soulful black folks and perpetually unlyrical whites that the creators wanted to make—I’m OK with that—but gives us more consistency of mode through these scenes. The thread of Peter, the Honey Man, was completely lost in the Met production. He wasn’t well set up for his first call, in the middle of the raucous opening scene, was lost track of with the omission of the Archdale scene, and then was denied his second call. He didn’t have enough left to establish his friendship with Porgy and the parallel track he runs a little ahead on vis-à-vis the police. The Archdale scene keeps that going, and marks at least a trace of a more positive interchange with an element of the white community.

Besides, as I noted last time, the end of the Archdale scene is the cue for the Buzzard Song. As Archdale is about to exit, telling Frazier that though he won’t report him this time, the phony divorce mill must close, “A great bird flies low, frightening everybody.” Archdale: “What is it, what’s the matter?“ Porgy: “Boss, dat bird mean trouble,” etc. This song, as close as Porgy comes to a dramatic aria, must stay in, for the reasons I’ve stated: a) It’s a good song, and b) It’s a step in Porgy’s liberation—he can throw off the fearful reaction because he’s strengthened and renewed by Bess’s love, and that isn’t something we just infer or hear about, but see and hear take place before us.

So far, our redactions, restorations, and alterations are approximately a wash with the Met production’s decisions—perhaps we’ve saved a minute or two. But surely ours has played more clearly and naturally, more “organically,” and has given greater attention to matters of central dramatic importance and less to peripheral ones. It doesn’t feel as long. But suppose we think the action is still moving too slowly toward its denouement, with too many distractions along the way? Then we must contemplate excising a perfectly enjoyable number, the chorus “Oh, I Can’t Sit Down.” In it, the dressed-up community, complete with onstage band, marches off to Kittiwah in an atmosphere of great hilarity. We can’t argue against it, musically or theatrically—it’s quite exhilarating.^(I) But maybe we don’t need more exhilaration. The work tends to hector us with brassy up-tempo stuff. Further, the piece not only doesn’t serve any dramaturgical purpose, it actually gets in the way of a nice ending to this lengthy scene. Without it, we would have this: “Bess, You Is My Woman Now” comes to its soft, tender conclusion. Through the archway, we see folks in full regalia streaming by, laughing and shouting. We hear scraps of the band music and the whistle of the boat, but all that is at a distance; the togetherness of Porgy and Bess is unbroken. Now Maria hurries down the courtyard steps from her room. She sees Bess still with Porgy, and, picking up on an earlier line of Jake’s, says “What’s de matter wid you, sister? Ain’t you know you goin’ be late for de picnic?” And the little scene of Maria’s urging and Porgy’s granting of permission plays out, and Bess takes her leave, and Porgy, quietly at first, sings the reprise of “Oh, I Got Plenty o’ Nuttin.” Curtain—and we do need the curtain, not just a rolling about of set pieces, for the change to Kittiwah.