By Harry Haun
29 Feb 2008

Putting it together, he said, was a genuine joy. "Each of the collaborators — the actors, of course, but Stew and Heidi and, above all, Annie showed — an ability to work within an accessible populist medium to really retain the integrity of what they want to talk about."

And what Passing Strange wants to talk about — to create — was a kind of chameleon Candide, who shakes his roots and tries to transplant himself in foreign turf as someone he is not, fabricating a ghetto background to hide his middle-class upbringing in uptight L.A. ("Death Row with palm trees"). A young musician, he tries to find his voice, his music, ultimately himself, first in Amsterdam, then in Berlin — a stranger in a strange land, passing (as) strange.

Stew serves as musical tour-guide and narrator for this journey of self-awareness, toting a sizable amount of autobiographical baggage in the process. "In a way," said Eustis, "it's not so much an idea to tell the story of the African-American middle-class as it is his idea to tell the truth about his racial experience in America. His idea was — and he was actually correct — that it was a truth that was not being told. What I think is so remarkable about it is the way that you see his entire identity is, from the beginning, formed from crossing cultures. There is no such thing as a singular or cultural identity in America so, as unique as he is, all of us have formed our identities from this cross-current of different cultures."

Stew started brewing once the commission was in place. "I knew I wanted to write something different," he said, "a different perspective of the black world, of black America. I was tired of it always only being either The Huxtables on one end or lower working-class ghetto life. That's not where I'm from. I just wanted to tell my story."

This surrogate Stew who's center-stage is The Big Break that Daniel Breaker has been angling for. His two previous Broadway roles — in Well and, recently, Cymbeline — were bits by comparison, and he makes the most of his enlarged canvas with a star-making turn.

"I'm in awe of this role," he admitted. "It's such a fun part to dive into, and it's also a part I find utterly frightening. Basically, it's a coming-of-age story, and my character doesn't have a name other than Youth. He's the essence of Youth, I guess you could say — an idea — sorta 'In Everyman, you have an Everyboy.' We didn't want to give him a specific name because we wanted everybody to relate to what it is to be a teenager finding his way."

It doesn't hurt, either, to have the real Stew on stage at the same time, he pointed out. "I'm having a damn good time. It's so much fun to work with Stew. You never know what he's going to do. It's always going to be different. I always try to break him up and make him laugh on stage. Wednesday matinees will be as much fun as opening night."

Of course, he conceded the opening's an awesome act to follow. "You could feel it as soon as you stepped on — before the show even started. When we heard the band come out and everybody went crazy, that's when we thought, 'Okay, we got an audience here.'"

No longer Broadway-bound, Breaker is altar-bound in April. His fiancee is Kate Whoriskey, who is directing Lynn Nottage's latest play, Ruined, when it tries out at the Goodman Theatre in Chicago this fall. "It's about a brothel in the democratic republic of The Congo," clarified Nottage, "and it's coming to Manhattan Theatre Club in January."

Blondie's Deborah Harry brought some real rock glam to the evening. "Stew is an old friend of mine," she said. "He had a band called The Negro Problem, and he toured with Blondie many years ago. He's a terrific guy, and he's just so talented." She had plenty of praise for Passing Strange — "very exciting, had a lot of great elements and really such a minimal production. Production values were very minimal, but just right. Had a beautiful story. The audience was really responsive. I hope that the producers have a huge success."

Other first-nighters: Cymbeline's Martha Plimpton, director Spike Lee (what's the Stalag 17 status, Spike?), Anne Meara, Cheryl James (Salt of Salt-n-Pepa), Tracee Ellis Ross of "Girlfriends" and Rhonda Ross of "Another World" (both of them stunners like Mama Diana), High Fidelity's Amanda Green, Jersey Boys' Marshall Brickman, Hairspray's Julie Halston, Taboo's Euan Morton (bracing for his Oak Room bow in March), Sweeney Todd's Manoel Felciano, LAByrinth co-head John Ortiz, Sherri Saum of "Rescue Me," Rosie Perez and Cry-Baby himself, James Snyder.

The complete contingent of female cast-members — Eisa Davis, deν Andre Aziza and Rebecca Naomi Jones — collided on arrival with Gerald Schoenfeld, chairman of The Shubert Organization, the show's top-billed backer, and this hard-to-set up timing touched off a flurry of paparazzi snap, crackle and pop. (Jerry's Girls, dontcha know.)

Schoenfeld was less forthcoming about the rumored head-hammering between old-guard producers and new-sound music-makers. "They are from a different discipline," was all he would say, and you could almost hear the soft drop of dot dot dot.

Co-composer Rodewald pooh-poohed the stories of disharmony between the two schools of Broadway thought. "Oh, I loved working with those producers," she insisted. "When Stew and I were talking in the offices with Liz and our director, I loved that all the references were old musicals. I mean, I didn't even want to talk about ours. I was so excited they were bringing up My Fair Lady and Hello, Dolly! It just blew me away that we were working with these people who have such history. I have such respect for them."