Big voice, inspiring play

The
Big Voice: God Or Merman?,by Steve Schalchlin and Jim Brochu,
is completely
original and utterly rewarding. A musical
about two totally opposite, deeply religious, gay men falling in love,
surviving AIDS, and finding success in showbiz could be camp or cliché. But we
are truly indebted to Downstairs Cabaret Theatre for producing the East Coast
premiere of this hilarious, gut-wrenching, startlingly honest show.

            With its creators acting and singing
together onstage, The Big Voice presents their story
through writer Brochu’s witty script and composer/lyricist Schalchlin’s winsome
songs.

            Brochu
affectionately ribs his Catholic childhood, explaining his dream to be the first
Pope from Brooklyn. He bought a record of Gregorian chants by his favorite
recording artist, Pope Pius XII, but wasn’t inspired. His epiphany came when a
randomly chosen record of Annie Get Your
Gun blasted out Ethel Merman singing “There’s No Business Like Show
Business.” God, apparently, was in the vibrato.

            Schalchlin looked
for the voice of God in the passionate evangelism of James Robertson at an
Arkansas revival meeting. But his inspiration came through his own voice in
Baptist church choirs. He trained in a seminary for a ministry of preaching
through music. Sweet and innocently religious, he nonetheless felt great
conflict, as we hear in his song, “In The Closet.”

            That song shifts
to the more worldly Brochu, whose father’s remedy was to send him to an
all-boys military school. He says that word got out about his unscientific
experiment with another boy in the chemistry lab, and “Within an hour I
was more sought after than uranium!”

            Their stories
continue in that L’il Abner vs. Noel Coward vein. Brochu became an established
theater artist, Schalchlin a singer/composer. When they met on a cruise ship
that neither had planned to be on, it seemed like fate. But sophisticated
Brochu was a “Merman Queen,” and feared that naive, younger Schalchlin
might be a “Judy Queen,” for whom “Judaism had nothing to do
with Jews.” Blessedly, Schalchlin had to ask “Judy who?” and
didn’t explain that he thought “Ethel” referred to Ethel Mertz.

            Comic, romantic,
and musical highs follow, but come crashing down with AIDS. Schalchlin was
close to death when he was saved again by his art. Revived by a surge of
songwriting, he expressed his fears, anguish, and creative salvation in music
that Brochu wrote a script around. It was their first work together. Because
Schalchlin was still too ill, the partners didn’t appear in “The Last
Session,” but Brochu directed it. It was a great success in New York and
Los Angeles, then elsewhere. Perhaps you saw it when Downstairs Cabaret Theatre
revived it last year.

            The dark side
came again in the form of personality-disorders that were a side-effect of the
anti-AIDS cocktails that contain and arrest that plague. But conquering that
tribulation, too, they have reunited and written this newer autobiographical
revue. Schalchlin is in fine shape performing it with his urbane partner. And
the audience’s pleasure in this happy ending is palpable at the rousing finale.

            Anthony Barnao
directs impeccably. Designs aren’t credited, but you’ll love Brochu’s pajamas.

            You needn’t be
familiar with any gay, showbiz, or religious background. Example: To react when
Brochu complains that, when they briefly separated, he was in a cramped
apartment and “Down In The Dumps On The 9th Floor,” you don’t have to
know that the song “Down In The Dumps On The 90th Floor” was the gay
anthem for Broadway in the ’70s. The meaning, the feeling, and the wit are
obvious. I can’t overemphasize what value you’ll miss if you don’t see this
show.

The Big Voice: God Or
Merman?,by Steve Schalchlin
and Jim Brochu, plays at Downstairs Cabaret Theatre, 172 West Main Street,
through Sunday, February 23. Performances are Thursdays at 7:30 p.m., Fridays
at 8 p.m., Saturdays at 5 p.m. and 8 p.m., and Sundays at 3 p.m. Tix: $21-$24.
325-4370, www.downstairscabaret.com.

This article appears in Feb 12-18, 2003.