Writing to the Rhythm: Suzan-Lori Parks on ‘Porgy and Bess’

Brendan Shea: How well did you know Porgy and Bess before working on it?

Suzan-Lori Parks: I had heard about the piece. I knew it was performed a lot, but I never had a desire to actually go and see it. Diane [Paulus] sent me the libretto and the music, and my first real experience with it was listening to the music and following along with the script. I fell in love with it right away.

As you did this, did anything jump out as something that needed to be adapted or changed?

Different things need to be adapted and changed for different reasons. There are several what I would consider “anthropological moments” in the original, meaning moments created by people who were probably not deeply familiar with any African-American community. So, there are several moments in the original that serve to create an understanding or familiarity, as the original audiences for Porgy and Bess were probably not predominantly African-American either. These days our culture is more inclusive and familiar across the board so those “anthropological moments” aren’t as necessary. And there are moments that need additions/rewrites/tweaks for pure dramaturgical reasons. Sometimes I’m restructuring a sequence of action, sometimes rewriting an entire scene, sometimes I’m inventing whole new scenes or excavating deeply underwritten original moments, sometimes strengthening the plot line and individual character through-lines, sometimes, you know, “fleshing out” and “unpacking” emotional beats; sometimes I just had to add a few words to help something click. For example, “I Got Plenty of Nothing” needed to make solid dramatic sense. Disturbingly, this moment often came across as Porgy singing one of those stereotypical “happy darkie” songs. I realized very quickly that the song needed to
be grounded in an actual dramatic context to work more effectively. I added a few words to contextualize the moment, and now the song is about something vital and joyous that’s going on in the action of the play.

Have you had to adjust the way you write when scripting words that will be sung? You talk about being influenced by jazz and classical music.

I write to a rhythm. I write to a beat. With most of my writing, I’m writing to music that doesn’t exist. But here, I’m writing to music that’s written. When I put in alterations, different lines, I just count out the beats, or sing the tune, and change the line accordingly.

So in a way, you’re collaborating with Gershwin’s score.

Right. I’m collaborating with an existing score, and the adaptation of it that Diedre [Murray] has provided.

Has anything that Diedre said about rearranging the score inspired you to look again at another passage or another song?

Working with Diedre has been wonderful. And I like what she says about how we’re “modernizing without disturbing.” It’s not as if we are trying to put our thumbprints all over it; what we are doing is appreciating what is there, then trying to make what’s there into a viable show for today’s musical theater stage.

What you’re saying reminds me of one of the core elements of your style, the idea of “repetition and revision.”

Yes, we are revising a classic. It’s along the same lines—not the same thing, but along the same lines—as doing a riff on The Scarlet Letter, as I did in my plays F***ing A and In The Blood. Or having the Abraham Lincoln impersonator appear in The America Play and having him appear again in Topdog/Underdog. Or having the character of Grace be in Topdog/Underdog unseen, and then have her be the centerpiece of The Book of Grace. Repetition and Revision. Yes. As I work on Porgy and Bess, I work along these lines. And that’s probably why I was attracted to this project, too, because it really is like working on an historical artifact.

And Porgy and Bess are considered great American cultural icons, alongside Hester Prynne and Abraham Lincoln.

Exactly. It’s right up my alley. And it’s been a lot of fun.

Interview conducted by Brendan Shea, the A.R.T.’s Outreach and Education Associate.