Doc captures taste of ‘Taylor Mac’s 24-Decade History of American Popular Music’

A stirring look at a signature work by a brilliant queer artist

If the name Taylor Mac is unknown to you, it might conjure images of some hard-edged pop diva, known for a tell-it-like-it-is fi erceness and a willingness to dive into their personal life for material – and in truth, you wouldn’t be entirely wrong.

Mac, who conceived, wrote and performed the epic performance event at the center of HBO’s eponymous documentary “Taylor Mac’s 24-Decade History of American Popular Music,” is admittedly hard to classify precisely, though one could use any number of labels – actor, playwright, performance artist, director, producer, singer-songwriter – to describe what Mac does. Just as easily, one could invoke his numerous honors and accolades – winner of the John D. and Catherine T. MacArthur Foundation “Genius” Grant, Pulitzer Prize fi nalist, Tony nominee – to get across how well he does what he does. In actuality, none of those clunky, generalized designations convey who Mac is, and his milieu could more aptly be understood as a blend that comes together, as needed, to create something greater – or at least, more provocative – than the sum of its parts.

By JOHN PAUL KING

as in the “24-Decade History” project.

Created in collaboration with musical director Matt Ray over roughly a decade, it was a magnum opus that was performed as intended – as a 24-hour immersive theatrical experience in front of a live audience – only once, at St. Ann’s Warehouse in Brooklyn in 2016. Part performance art, part theatrical extravaganza, part concert, it off ered an alternative take on U.S. history, narrated through music that was popular in American culture since its founding in 1776 to 2016. Built on stunning, powerful musical performances and peppered with surprising and revelatory historical interpretation – as well as comedic banter and form-transcendent audience interaction – it wove a narrative compiled from “between the lines” of commonly-held history, exposing things like the casual bigotry at the heart of many of America’s earliest popular songs and the misogyny and homophobia that has continued to permeate its music until the present day; an hour was dedicated to each decade, with Mac decked out in an elaborate new decade-specifi c costume – designed by longtime collaborator Machine Dazzle and incorporating humorous references to American life in each of the 24 decades covered in the show – for each one; each hour, one of 24 onstage musicians would depart the stage, until Mac, alone and unaccompanied except for a ukulele, was left alone to perform original songs for the fi nal hour. It was an electrifying, “you had to be there” event, a true landmark in American theatre which garnered Mac both the afore-mentioned Tony and Pulitzer nods – but unless you were part of the crowd at St. Ann’s Warehouse for that 24 hour marathon performance, you could never “be there” yourself.

tion the show’s 24-piece orchestra and a host of shockingly cooperative audience members.

Of course, it cannot be considered a substitute for seeing the entire 24-hour production, which was recreated in six-hour segments (footage from some of these were used in the fi lm alongside the material shot during the original production) for a subsequent national tour after the St. Ann’s performance. Even so, it succeeds better than most performance documentaries in capturing the electric energy of a live performance by someone touched with genius, as Mac surely is, which ultimately serves the fi lm’s true purpose by documenting a queer’seye view of history that the heteronormative “mainstream” would prefer to keep buried.

Those who might object to the nuggets of well-researched insight and contemporary interpretation that Mac weaves into the fabric of his performance would likely be among those who fi nd themselves confused by the star’s preferred pronoun – which is “judy” - and not altogether open to the kind of presentation judy uses to get judy’s point across. Nevertheless, the boldness with which Mac infuses judy’s stage persona quickly washes away notions of “inappropriate” or “lewd” to make it clear judy’s intention is simply to howl the truth of judy’s world as loudly as judy ever has, and if some of it makes a few midwestern conservatives clutch their pearls a little tighter, well, that feels like so much the better given Mac’s clearly stated agenda.

Challenging, razor sharp in its observations and commentary about American culture, and deliberately confrontational, Mac’s plays and performances are also rife with absurdity, centering themselves in a comedic, deceptively campy vein as they deconstruct the social attitudes that fuel so much of our contemporary “culture wars.” In no case (to date, at least) have Mac’s gifts been distilled so liberally into the fabric of a live performance

Now, thanks to HBO (and Max, where the documentary is currently streaming for subscribers), you can at least come close. As directed by Rob Epstein and Jeff rey Friedman, who also produced, “Taylor Mac’s 24-Decade History of American Popular Music,” off ers an opportunity to experience the show in all its subversive, strangely moving glory – or at least, a “Cliff ’s Notes” overview of its highlights – with the kind of up-close-and-personal intimacy that even those who were watching it live did not experience. Intercut with interview footage of Mac, as well as collaborators Ray, Dazzle, stage co-director Niegel Smith, and others, it provides insight into the behind-the-scenes technical choices that were geared to enhance and amplify the show’s themes, but still fi nds plenty of time to document the magnifi cent musical performances by Mac and fellow musicians, such as singers Erin Hill, Steff anie Christi’an, Heather Christian, Thornetta Davis and Anais Mitchell, among others – not to men-

That agenda, as laid down by the gifted Mac early on, is to remind us that our history as Americans is in the history of our songs, and that it’s a history shaped by the underdogs and outsiders who saw a vision for a better world beyond the toxic mindsets and social hierarchies that keep many, if not most, human beings from achieving anything close to the true freedom touted by our nation’s forefathers in its gestational years. “I love the idea that a queer body could become the metaphor for America,” Mac tells the camera (and the live audience), and proceeds to remind us that it’s the sense of community, of shared need, that communicates to us through the musical landscape forged by our national chronology.

Of course, the documentary, which delivers a powerful taste of Mac and company’s charismatic and talented performative skills with songs from “Yankee Doodle” and “My Old Kentucky Home” to “Gimme Shelter” and “Born to Run” – and that’s not a bad thing, either. In any case, it’s a stirring and memorable document of a signature work by one of America’s most brilliant queer artists, which makes it essential viewing as far as we’re concerned.