'A Bronx Tale' is a garlic-scented love letter to NYC
by Barrie Kealoha
There really is something magical about going to see a show set in New York City, surrounded by audience of nothing but New Yorkers. Whether transplants or born-and-bred, The Engeman (formerly The Northport Theater) has been a mainstay of the Long Island crowd in one form or another since 1912, so to experience a show like A Bronx Tale at such a historic venue is something really special—like a warm bacon eggand cheese for the soul.
Our Wednesday night crowd was sparse but vocal, and as we entered the theater, we were greeted by a beautifully rendered Belmont Street, designed by Kyle Dixon and lit by John Burkland. Crooners of the 40s and 50s piped in over the sound system, perfectly setting the mood of a not-so-distant past, in a land not so far-far-away.
As the show begins, under a streetlight with a doo-wop quartet, we are instantly transported to the Bronx of playwright Chazz Palminteri’s 1960s childhood, narrated in the guise of “Calogero”, deftly played by Mike Cefalo. Cefalo does a remarkable job walking the fine line between Calogero the man and Calogero the narrator, and he weaves the story throughout the evening with nuance, intention, and some killer vocals. Calogero’s story, spanning from age 9 to age 17, is a reflection of the dichotomy that is New York City: unchanging, yet forever changing. Throughout the show, we are constantly reminded that The Bronx may be an “outer borough”, but it is still absolutely New York. The choice to stagnate or grow is forever up to the individual, and the biggest crime of all is wasted talent.
While the “wise guys”, led by Mike Keller as the capo di tutti i capi Sonny in an absolute standout performance, provide the element of danger and a looming sense of how much is at stake, they are never presented as the “true” villains of the show. That prodigious title goes to more abstract concepts: poverty, bigotry, desperation, generational trauma. And as with all shows set in New York, the struggles on the small scale reflect the Struggles-with-a-capital-S on the larger, societal scale.
Although the Long Island audience surely saw themselves more in the conflicts surrounding Calogero’s Italian-American neighborhood on Belmont Avenue, we are reminded that New York is a miniature world unto itself, and one avenue over can feel like a completely different country and yet somehow still feel exactly like home. When we meet the black denizens of neighboring Webster Ave, kicking off Act II with the powerful vocals of Jasmine Lawrence (in her understudy debut as Jane!) and her friends, their stomp-the-yard reimagining of Act I’s opener from the Italian side of town completely stopped the show. The applause was riotous and well-deserved. We soon found ourselves cheering for and empathizing with both communities, despite the encroaching shadow of racial tension and the deeply ingrained social mores born of immigrant communities struggling to survive. And if that ain’t relatable to a New York audience, I dunno what is.
When all’s sung and done (forgive the pun), the show is ultimately an uplifting one, though never sugar-coated. The show is a living, belting reminder that the one thing that unites all New Yorkers is our unshakable love/hate relationship with our city, that everyone belongs here even when it feels like no one belongs here, that every street corner is the setting for a hundred thousand stories written by a hundred thousand authors. As Bronx Tale’s sun sets behind the fire escapes, the house lights come up, and we walk back out through the triocolore-strewn lobby and into the Long Island night, we are humming the tunes, filled with a sense of pride in our native-born/adoptive home.
Well, pride, and a relentless craving for linguine with clams.
A Bronx Tale runs at the John W Engeman Theater in Northport, NY, WednesdaySunday, through May 8.