Cool Blues

One of the great jazz legends—often placed on a level reserved for heroes such as Louis Armstrong and Miles Davis—saxophonist Charlie "Bird" Parker was known not just for his mastery of his instrument but also for his propensity to leave it at home. Jazz clubs often had a spare sax on hand for when Parker would show up to a gig without one. An oft-repeated myth claims that Parker would sell or pawn his instrument to support his many vices, heroin, morphine, and alcohol among them. When he died, in the home of his friend and patron Baroness Pannonica de Koenigswarter, the coroner estimated Parker's age to be between 50 and 60 years old. He was 34.

"Cool Blues," a new play by Bill Harris, draws heavily from Parker's storied but troubled life, particularly the events leading up to his death. An ailing jazz saxophonist referred to only as B (Marcus Naylor) pays a visit to the wealthy jazz patron Baroness Alexandra Isabella von Templeton (Terria Joseph), who, seeing his condition, nurses him while the two relive his glory days. But B is haunted by specters from his past that punctuate his thoughts: his mother (Stephanie Berry), his friend and collaborator Kid (Jay Ward), and his ex-lover Chim (Maria Silverman).

For a play that attempts to tackle issues of musical style, genius, race, class, and mental health, the result feels surprisingly empty. Performances are too often one-note: The priggish doctor (Ezra Barnes) is unfalteringly prim, while, as the wronged romantic interest, Silverman never speaks without getting choked up. Joseph fares a bit better as the hip baroness nicknamed "Xan," but the actor undermines herself by physicalizing every statement, flinging her arms about along with her words in a way no Rothschild heir would do, no matter how estranged.

Thankfully, Naylor brings the necessary gruff charisma to B, but he battles against the aggressively intrusive interruptions by figures from B's past, who frequently mill about the stage looking lost. Director Ed Smith highlights these moments with a psychedelic colored light show that is overwrought and largely unnecessary.

"Cool Blues" is ultimately dragged down by its deference to history. The play feels pulled from an encyclopedia entry on Parker—with forced references to everything from his childhood in Kansas City to his stint at a mental hospital—and Harris' characters suffer as a result. For example, the doctor who regularly visits B and the baroness is an awfully convenient audience for their drawn-out stories about such things as the recording of "Lover Man" and explanations about chord extensions; tellingly, he looks bored.

When the characters do eschew superficial historical trivia for emotional depth, it's usually in monologues: B reflects poignantly on the death of his daughter, and Xan mourns the wartime death of her husband. (This moment is one of Harris' few drastic departures from historical record. The real baroness was divorced, which, unless you're Nora Ephron, makes for a far less dramatic tale.) Each character in "Cool Blues" is unfortunately trapped in his or her own history; they never learn, as Charlie Parker did, that there's often more impact in a duet than a solo.

Presented by Woody King Jr.'s New Federal Theatre at Henry Street Settlement's Abrons Arts Center/Underground Theatre, 466 Grand St., NYC. March 20–April 3. Wed.–Fri., 7:30 p.m.; Sat., 8 p.m.; Sun., 3 and 8 p.m. (212) 352-3101, (866) 811-4111, or www.theatermania.com. Casting by Lawrence Evans.