Hip-Hopping to Broadway

The

rap world had better be careful. It is getting dangerously close to mainstream acceptance. Eminem's movie, 8 Mile, won raves from stuffy, middle-aged film critics and raced to the top of the box-office charts. Now Russell Simmons' Def Poetry Jam has barged its way onto Broadway. An evening of in-your-face street poetry by nine performers with noms de rap like Black Ice, Georgia Me and Poetri might seem to have an uphill battle in the land of Rodgers and Hammerstein. But the show, being marketed to urban audiences and sporting a relatively low $65 top ticket price, is attracting young, multicultural crowds that Broadway rarely sees. And most of the stuffy theater critics liked it too.

So did this one. Simmons and director Stan Lathan have assembled a fast-paced, highly charged evening that manages the rare feat of satisfying insiders while introducing outsiders to something revelatory. The first thing to notice about Def Poetry Jam is that the audience is engaged more directly and passionately (shouts of assent or murmurs of sympathy after each line that connects) than any other on Broadway. The second thing to notice, especially after the gangsta-posturing insult raps of 8 Mile, is how empowering, often funny and always life affirming the words are.

Aside from a couple of political rants, these two-and three-minute bursts of verse mostly look inward: at the pain of love, the poignance of failed dreams, the lure of Krispy Kreme doughnuts. An abused woman exhorts herself to "hit like a man." An Asian American celebrates his ethnic group: "We are programming your websites, making your executives look smart." There's the fable of Shine, a stoker on the Titanic who "jumped his black ass into the dark sea" and cheerfully swam home while the rich folks drowned. And a cry against the exploitative record industry: "F___ a record deal. God gives me what I'm worth." They might not approve of the words, but Rodgers and Hammerstein would recognize the sentiment.