Decades before Whoopi Goldberg became a seated fixture on “The View,” she was enrapturing audiences with the Rolodex of original characters that populated her one-woman show on Broadway. There was the doctorate-holding addict Fontaine and the uptalking Surfer Girl, wet behind the ears in more ways than one — people whom Goldberg brought to life through artful shifts of posture and tone.
In “The Whoopi Monologues,” which opened on Monday at the Mitzi E. Newhouse Theater at Lincoln Center Theater, the director Whitney White has unearthed these and other characters from Goldberg’s vault, expanding what was a stripped-down solo act into a notably chicer chamber piece. Fortunately, it’s a reverent reconstruction job.
As far as starting lineups go, the show boasts an impressive cast. Kerry Washington, a producer of the show who will also be performing the Surfer Girl monologue through Aug. 2, introduces the philosopher Fontaine (Kara Young); the Blonde Girl (Dominique Fishback); a Black child who longs for golden hair and blue eyes similar to those of the people she sees on television; the Jamaican Lady (Danielle Pinnock), who moves to the United States to care for a dirty old man; and Lurleen (Kecia Lewis), a woman experiencing the hormonal havoc of menopause. Lurleen is the only character not found in Goldberg’s original 1984 Broadway performance, but who debuted 20 years later in an anniversary production of the show, also on Broadway.
Young, as the first of the bunch, steals our attention immediately, crooking her head in a way that implies Fontaine’s nights sleeping outside without a bed, deepening her voice to align with the consequences of smoking the Newport hanging from her mouth, imbuing her Fontaine with the passion of every great street evangelist. From there, each of the five women takes a turn center stage, successfully conveying both the raunchy comedy and somber tragedy baked into Goldberg’s monologues before passing the ball to an equally capable player.
Each soliloquy offers an empathetic lens into the inner workings of a person pushed to the margins. The magic Goldberg captured in her breakout original production (and again in 2004) may have partly come from all the virtuosic vocal flicks, but the social consciousness-raising work was in the humanity revealed through these speeches. Drug addicts like Fontaine, immigrant laborers like the Jamaican Lady, menopausal women like Lurleen — human beings that polite society remains just as comfortable ignoring today — are the luminaries here.
It’s interesting to consider what “The Whoopi Monologues” stands to gain from this multiplication of voices. The physical transformations that audiences praised Goldberg for aren’t replicable given the “one actor to one character” ratio, but these performers impress in other ways. When Pinnock — outfitted in quintessentially bright gold accessories and a pixie wig in the signature blue of the dancehall titan Spice — sarcastically chirped, “I don’t know if you can tell that I’m Jamaican,” it earned my loudest, unruliest laugh of the night.
The director broadens the show into a grander theatrical experience with dancing projections (by Hana S. Kim), gyration-inducing musical transitions (sound design by Fan Zhang) and attire appropriate to each character’s culture and status (costumes are by the recent Tony winner Qween Jean; hair and wig design by Nikiya Mathis). There’s more glitter and sheen than the source material ever offered (you have never seen such well-moisturized women in your life), but the styling feels like an appropriate nod to the celebratory mission of this production.
The choice to divvy up Goldberg’s monologues also reinforces the show’s most prevalent sensibility: that an entire generation of actors has been inspired by her work. For Black performers in particular, she remains a most prolific muse for anyone trying to do as she did and win an Emmy, a Grammy, an Oscar and a Tony. For the majority of the show, only one person holds court at a time, yet White finds opportune moments to flood the stage with bodies, particularly in the transitions — quick bursts of energy when ensemble members dance or play childhood games, actions that drive home this point of connection.
White also welcomes specifically modern gestures and quips from the actors. Fishback, for example, wraps a shirt around her head to mimic bouncy, blonde hair as Goldberg first did, but she adds Ariana Grande’s “toss, toss” motion from “Wicked” when showing off her tresses. Choices like this display a comedic instinct that the weekend crowd at my performance heartily embraced.
By the time Goldberg debuted these monologues on Broadway, she was a verifiable stage horse, playing to, as The New York Times noted in 1984, “standing room audiences in fringe clubs and theaters across the country.” The scenery of this production, by the design team Studio Bent, aims to honor that artistic lifestyle. Five dressing room doors line the back wall of the Newhouse; they’re rooms that the characters retreat to when not onstage. Periodically, the doors stay open, unveiling messy dressing tables and discarded makeup — the familiar carnage of backstage life. Photos of Black performers like Cicely Tyson also line the ceilings, gesturing again at the show’s themes of artistic legacy and generational influence.
And really, it’s this enduring legacy that is the biggest takeaway from “The Whoopi Monologues.” Sure, this retelling is markedly shinier than what preceded it. (It dresses up a show created by a woman whose ingenuity was more often found in simplicity.) But it’s a sincere gift nonetheless, a loving call for human compassion and a singing homage to its titular architect.
The Whoopi Monologues Through Aug. 30 at the Mitzi E. Newhouse Theater, Manhattan; lct.org. Running time: 1 hour 45 minutes.
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