The Wiz

Reviewed by Holly Bartges

Some 100 years ago, out of the imagination of L. Frank Baum came the fantasy land of Oz. The Wizard of Oz continues to grab the heart and soul of everyone ever introduced to it. An underlying belief system continues to want to fight against the Wizard’s premise, insisting there is no magic.

Regan Linton (Tin Girl) and Leonard E. barrett, Jr. (The Wiz) in PHAMALy’s production of The Wiz. PHOTO: P. Switzer

Everyone has certainly had the opportunity to see MGM’s The Wizard of Oz with the immortal Judy Garland. If anyone has missed it, it will be around again. Every year without fail. Then came the urban Rhythm and Blues answer with the Wiz rocking Broadway off its stilts with a new book by William F. Brown and music and lyrics by Charlie Smalls.

Magic is alive and well. It does exist. I saw it with my very own eyes Friday night at the opening of PHAMALy’s (Physically Handicapped Amateur Musical Actors League) in the Space Theatre at the Bonfils Complex of DPAC for their totally stunning production of The Wiz.

This show should not be missed by any living, breathing human person within a 100-mile radius. Unfortunately, that’s not possible. Once upon a time not too many years ago, PHAMALy performed surrounded by empty seats no matter what anyone said or did. Now it’s a different story. Seats are hard to come by. Their reputation speaks for itself.

Last year, PHAMALy knocked everyone out with their production of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat.

This year they take everyone on a journey that goes beyond a stage, set and costumes, songs and music. They transport everyone within shooting distance beyond the land of Oz, beyond The Emerald City, beyond the yearning of Scarecrow (Daniel Traylor) for a brain, beyond Tingirl (Regan Linton) for a heart, beyond Lion (Don Mauck) for courage, beyond a little farm girl, Dorothy (Juliet Villa) aching to go home to Kansas, to a personal land of magic engulfing everyone with a hug.

I saw it.

I saw the magic as sure as I see my dog lying at me feet at this very moment.

I saw the magic on stage, and I saw it after the show from his wheelchair in the eyes of Gregg Vigil who teaches dance at the Denver Center — yes, dance — from his wheel chair. I saw it in the eyes of Molly Nash thrilled about being here, thrilled about her first performance with PHAMALy, thrilled about being a Munchkin, thrilled about life. I saw it in the soul of Katrina Weber (Citizen, Evil Poppy, Winkie) lavishing praises on her actor friends for their accomplishments, while shrugging off praise directed toward her. I saw it in the eyes of Daniel Traylor who took Scarecrow to a higher level, beyond the basketball net where the Crows (Matt MacCarthy, Allen McCowan, and Mark Dissette) thought he should stay. After all, stuffed with paper, he can’t possibly walk. Walk he did. Dance he did with magical ingenuity in spite of their screeched taunting.

I saw it real. I saw it on the face of choreographer, Debbie Stark, when she thought no one was looking, watching the second act with husband Jay, admiring the dancers who some thought would never dance. I would be willing to bet a yellow brick that co-choreographer Cindy Bray snuggled against the same aura of prideful gratitude even though I didn’t actually see her.

I saw it in the hands of Donna Debreceni laughing their way across the keyboard while musicians Mitch Jervis (guitar), Britt Heaps (guitar), Austin Hein (bass), and Larry Ziehl (percussion) happily followed.

I saw it in the stance of Leonard Barnett (The Wiz) from a distance in a doorway surround by a quiet confident air.

I saw it with Director Steve Wilson across the lobby of the Bonfils Complex returning a firm but gratified handshake.

I saw it in the grace of Teri Westerman’s wheelchair.

I saw it in the heartbeat of a glowing, Lucy Roucis (Addaperle, Good Witch of the North) fighting her meds while laughing following the performance with her gorgeous voice and quick one-liners. A witch who lost her keys and needs to bum a ride on another witch’s broomstick. With a stick in her hand for a wand, she walks off stage laughing, “I know how to drive a stick.”

I saw it in the stoic face of one young actor being showered with praise by a perfectly coiffed gray-haired woman. His simple thank you for her gushiness spoke volumes. His stoic expression confirmed he knew something she would probably forget within a couple of days.

I saw it in the growl of Lion (Mauck), his bravado defined by someone else’s “cowardness.”

I saw it in the uppity Royal Gatekeeper of Emerald City, (Jason Dorwart).

I heard it in the voice of Villa (Dorothy) putting on the green colored glasses given to her by the gatekeeper, walking off stage with Toto (her seeing eye dog Deidra) laughing back into the audience “I can’t see a thing with these glasses.”

I saw it in the laughing eyes of Amber Marsh, Samantha Barrasso, Jenna Bainbridge, and Linda Wirth) the four who magically transformed themselves into the Yellow Brick Road beckoning the fabulous four to follow just as Yellow Brick Roads are suppose to do.

I saw it in every stitch of the awesomely detailed costumes designed by Mallory Kay Nelson.

I saw it in the force of the cyclone carrying Dorothy to a strange new place. I saw it in the red and white striped legs of the Wicked Witch of the East Dorothy’s house demolished.

I heard it in the cranky voice of Uncle Henry (Don Gobinski) bellowing from his wheel chair to Dorothy for living in her storybook fantasy world in the harsh parched prairie of Kansas. Storybook dreams have no place running a farm. He could bellow, but he couldn’t hide the mysterious magic. I heard the trembling magic in the soft voice of Auntie Em (Kathleen Traylor) assuring Dorothy they loved her very much.

I saw it and felt it in the song Brand New Day.

And I shuddered with the reality of the magic at the very end when a lone girl stood in the middle of the stage with her seeing eyed dog being more Toto than Toto ever was while this wisp of a girl sang full throttle punctuated by a gorgeous mature voice “Believe In Yourself.”

I not only saw the magic I felt it. I owned. It was mine, and everyone else who could sense it, feel it, see it and lay claim to it.

So what kind of review is this?

The best kind, that’s what. Theatre wants to produce reaction, growth, honesty, laughter, talent, and emotion. A production that goes far beyond what happens under the stage lights is the best kind of theatre. It’s magic. Sheer, total, unadulterated magic.

I saw it, felt it understood it, praised it, swallowed it, and honored it.

Because the magic that stood there, shaking everyone in its path to the core is simply the magic of life, of accepting it, going with the flow, bowing to it, stretching it, knowing spirit, soul and talent wants to live far beyond any disability temporarily standing in the way. Beauty comes in wheelchairs, crutches, a limp, eyes to a world that don’t function signaling sight beyond comprehension.

It takes people surrounded by people chanting “you can’t” to grow their spirit chanting back “watch me, oh yes I can, and will and do.”

That’s what The Wiz is all about giving a heart to someone who has a heart bigger than all outdoors, giving a brain to someone who knows how to think already, but no one told them, and courage to one who lives it yet has difficulty pronouncing it. Giving belief to one who simply just wants to go home.

Thats The Wiz.

Thats PHAMALy.

It may already be too late to get tickets for this year, but try. PHAMALy’s reputation carried them to sell out performances. Call anyway, and if nothing else make your reservations now for next year’s musical production, Urinetown, and their first dramatic production, Thornton Wilder’s Our Town at the Aurora Fox in January. They have a story to tell, not just one story but a skillion stories of personal triumph, personal courage, thinking brains, and hearts of gold. And if that isn’t theatre in its grandest coat of armor, I don’t know what theatre is.