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\u201cMy vibe is cozy, comfortable,\u201d the R&B musician Josiah Wise, professionally known as serpentwithfeet, says near the start of \u201cHeart of Brick.\u201d Covered in a fuzzy blanket, sipping a glass of wine, he tells us that he prefers to stay at home.<\/p>\n
It\u2019s an unusual introduction for a show in a theater. But \u201cHeart of Brick,\u201d which had its premiere at the Joyce Theater in Manhattan on Friday, is an unusual production. It\u2019s somewhat like a staged concert of songs from Wise\u2019s latest album, \u201cGRIP,\u201d which he performs live to recorded tracks. But it\u2019s also like an 80-minute jukebox musical in which he stars as a version of himself, the songs threaded with scenes of dialogue heard in voice-over while he and the other performers silently act and dance.<\/p>\n
The story is sweet and slight. Having made a confidante of the crowd, Wise gets up the courage to visit a nightclub where he has heard his ex-boyfriend might be showing up. The ex-boyfriend might as well be named MacGuffin, since he isn\u2019t mentioned again. Instead, Wise meets Brick (Dylan M. Contreras), one of the owners of the club, and the two fall for each other immediately. Will the affair last? Is Brick a heartbreaker?<\/p>\n
These are the dramatic questions.<\/p>\n
While the format takes some getting used to, it focuses the point of view. Wise \u2014 the only one talking and singing to us directly, the only one holding a microphone \u2014 is telling us his story. The songs, which he delivers in a sensitive, tremulous tenor, express his feelings of romantic hope and vulnerability. The dialogue, by Wise and Donte Collins in collaboration with the other performers, is naturalistic and conversational, not too subtle or shaded. A slightly catty clique of five clubgoers offers a little comic relief, but between jokes and what Wise calls \u201cheart stuff,\u201d heart stuff predominates.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
Directed by Wu Tsang, the production is mostly clear and economical. Carlos Soto\u2019s set design suggests location changes between the club and Wise\u2019s apartment with little more than curtains and rails. Costumes (by Julio Delgado) and lighting (by Luke Rolls) are also mostly understated.<\/p>\n
So, too, is the choreography by Raja Feather Kelly. The clubgoers slink and ripple in fluid patterns and florid armwork, occasionally stretching a leg impressively toward the ceiling, hinging backward to the floor or unspooling multiple spins. But however sinuous, they are stuck in the role of backup dancers to serpentwithfeet.<\/p>\n
Wise\u2019s songs don\u2019t advance the narrative or deepen insight into the characters, and several of the dialogue-to-song transitions are clunky. But mostly, the show is a cozy, comfortable experience, about the slow rewards of romance rather than sex; the lovers spoon but don\u2019t even kiss.<\/p>\n
Cozy and comfortable, that is, until Darius \u2014 the drunk shaman played by Justin Daniels \u2014 arrives, posing riddles and warning about poisoned plants. The clubgoers, now dressed in floral ruffles to embody the plants, entangle Brick, who collapses in a coma. To save him, Wise must go on a quest for a mystical flower.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
This might be a swerve into allegory, the poisoned plants symbolizing gossip (which the show also represents, amusingly, in the form of news reports). It might be a dream ballet. It is certainly an attempt to heighten the drama of intimacy issues. Not strange enough to break into the realm of the surreal, it lifts off awkwardly, as at the end of his quest Wise makes an underpowered leap into the light.<\/p>\n
That swerve is a risky move that fails, but the true value of \u201cHeart of Brick\u201d lies in its simple portrayal of love between two men and in Wise\u2019s affectionate celebration of Black gay clubs. It\u2019s a fuzzy blanket of a show.<\/p>\n
\u201cHeart of Brick\u201d<\/strong><\/p>\n Through Saturday at the Joyce Theater; joyce.org.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n