Dropping rhymes, making statements: 'Def Poetry' ready for Minneapolis

By Rohan Preston - Star Tribune

Our founding mythos is of a nation of outsiders -- religious pilgrims, enterprising entrepreneurs, rebels and misfits -- finding a place to freely practice our beliefs, be they ordinary or divinely ordained.

That creed has been reinscribed by the Jewish immigrants who built Hollywood, by the rock and R&B rebels who freed pelvises and minds and, now in the 21st century, by some unexpected players -- slam and performance poets.

The last group, still working its way into the mainstream, already has found some important success. "Russell Simmons Def Poetry Jam," a nine-poet production that played on Broadway last year, won a Tony Award -- a first for the emergent form -- and is now on tour.

The show comes to Minneapolis next weekend for a two-night stand at the Historic State Theatre that will showcase voices of a new generation honoring the nation's ideals in its own way.

"Def Poetry Jam" is not an entirely new art form. Ntozake Shange's choreopoem "For Colored Girls Who Have Considered Suicide . . ." won acclaim on Broadway nearly 30 years ago. But "Def Poetry," backed by the entrepreneurial zeal of hip-hop and fashion mogul Russell Simmons, is the first such production on Broadway in nearly 30 years. And it is a collaboration of poets -- all of whom share author credits.

"Growing up in Oklahoma City, I didn't really feel like I belonged," said cast member and poet Beau Sia, 27, whose Chinese parents emigrated from the Philippines. "With poetry, I was able to find a way to process what's going on around me -- and a space to be me."

Sia and his fellow company members already have performed in Australia and Europe, becoming unofficial ambassadors for their country. In Scotland, their diverse looks and voices earned them the sobriquet "a Benetton ad onstage."

Their success has given voice to many, especially young people, but also to an array of writers hitherto absent from literary, cultural and political conversations.

Poet Suheir Hammad, who grew up in Brooklyn, is still in awe of her trajectory. "I never in a million years imagined I would be on this path," she said. "No one looks on Broadway and says we need a Palestinian girl from Brooklyn up on the stage."

Haddad's visibility -- she has been with the project for three years -- has made her a role model for young girls. Within her family, it has become easier to explain her work to her immigrant parents. "When they would walk by the theater on Broadway, they couldn't imagine me in there," she said. "But when they saw my picture, they knew. It's wonderful to be alive and have your parents understand what you do."

"What we've done is made history, and [we] will continue to push on," impresario and show producer Simmons said in June after the Tony Awards ceremony.

Passionate poetry

The passionate poets are comfortable writing and speaking fiercely out of their truths. In the show, Hammad, 30, performs a condensed version of her poem "First Writing Since," which she penned in the aftermath of the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks. It flows like an I.V. from the subconscious:

"first, please god, let it be a mistake, the pilot's heart failed, the plane's engine died. /then please god, let it be a nightmare, wake me now. /please god, after the second plane, please, don't let it be anyone /who looks like my brothers. /i do not know how bad a life has to break in order to kill. /i have never been so hungry that i willed hunger /i have never been so angry as to want to control a gun over a pen. /not really. /even as a woman, as a palestinian, as a broken human being. /never this broken."

The poem has become a teaching instrument on many college campuses and has been translated into several foreign languages. "The great thing about the show is that it allows for marginalized voices to resonate onstage," Hammad said. "Whatever people think about the things we address in our poems, they walk out of the theater thinking about childhood, love, life and the politics of our nation in a new way."

Sia also writes out of his heritage, using irony to make his points. "I do want America to know that the Asians are more than cuisine and kung fu flicks," he said, breaking into a poem. "We're everywhere . . . programming your Web sites, making your executives look smart, and getting into your schools for free."

"We're in your bedrooms and blood," Sia continued. "We're not just kissing other Asians. Our mad, sexy asses are getting play all over the ethnic spectrum. How do you think Tiger Woods, Rob Schneider and Keanu Reeves were made?"

Directorial challenge

Imagine the challenge of a director trying to mold a show from such disparate voices and performing styles with poets who are not actors and not accustomed to being directed.

"A lot of people thought it couldn't be done," said director and co-producer Stan Lathan, best known for directing episodes of such TV shows as "Hill Street Blues" and "Miami Vice" as well as PBS dance specials featuring Mikhail Baryshnikov, Alvin Ailey and Martha Graham's dance company.

"For me, directing this show was more about the standard stuff -- blocking, timing, pacing, ebb and flow, integration of music," Lathan said. "But really, it was about getting out of the way and allowing the poets to express themselves. They're not actors, but they are great performers."

Lathan got all the poets, culled from a similarly named HBO program that he also directs, into a room. He then asked them to collaborate on writing poems.

The first tryout was at a club in Phoenix three years ago: "I was petrified because it was obvious that the audience was a hip-hop crowd," Lathan recalled. "For the first half of the show, there was this kind of intense silence; they didn't know how to react, and I thought it was going to be a disaster. By the end of the show, there was thunderous applause and a standing ovation. That showed us that this young crowd had accepted what we were doing. It freed us to do poetry, rather than have to pander to the audience with something commercial."

Still, money, an admittedly crude measurement, makes or breaks Broadway productions. "Def Poetry Jam," which ran on Broadway from Nov. 14, 2002 to May 4, 2003, lost money. But don't tell any of that to the poets.

"I compare it to where it was and where it will be -- like hip-hop," Sia said. "When rappers first came out, they were out there hawking their tapes and records. Poets are still doing that. But this is a step toward recognition. Thanks to my union, I'm getting health benefits and pay that is more than the $1,500-a-week scale. That's more than getting $10 at a bar slam, then you have to go off to a regular job. I guess you could say I'm living some American dream."