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On the Playbill for her one-woman show, Lena Horne looked like a lioness celebrating a major victory. Her mouth open in triumph, her arms raised high above her head, she looks like she’s letting out a roar, and alternately, as she’s dressed in a flowing blue gown, like a slightly crazy blue fairy. It’s a striking image, one that perfectly encapsulates the contents of her show, Lena Horne: The Lady and Her Music.
It’s a shame that the only way to easily view this is as a less than stellar upload to YouTube. The show was filmed for broadcast as a part of PBS’s Great Performances series. This version looks more than a little like a well-loved VHS transfer, and the lack of a better one is a pity as The Lady and Her Music is perhaps THE essential document of Horne’s career.
Here she gets to tell her story, unfiltered, with moments of mischievous humor, deep hurt, headstrong tenacity, and iron grit. The show is arranged so that the songs are grouped to describe her life’s journey from the Cotton Club, to Hollywood, to her triumph on Broadway in Jamaica (for which she was Tony nominated), and finally ending up in her various cabaret acts and putting together this show. She pauses occasionally between songs to banter with the audience. She talks about the racism she endured in Hollywood, poking fun at her lack of dancing talent in the Cotton Club years, cracking jokes about how there wasn’t enough of a budget for major costume changes in this show, even admitting that she defers the stage to other performers on occasion to catch her breath between transitions.
What becomes abundantly clear is that Horne had an inner core of absolute steel, forged in hardship and adversity. She transforms even most blasé moment into a transcendent experience in which her survival becomes its own reoccurring theme. “I Got a Name” and “If You Believe” are recontextualized into songs about personal growth, and become intensely moving and engaging experiences.
Frequently, Horne’s artistic ambitions exceed her vocal ability, but it doesn’t matter. While not all of the notes in “Yesterday, When I Was Young” are perfect, she sings with more heart, soul, and passion than most others do. No matter if some of her belting isn’t in perfect pitch, it still hits you straight in the soul. In a show filled with transformative experiences, none may smack you harder than the reprise of “Stormy Weather.” Her first performance is a straight run-through, her honeysuckle vibrato wrapping itself around the torch song in a manner similar to how she performed it in the film of the same name. The second takes the song from a slow burn into a full-on belting spree in which she has turned a song about heartache into a gospel number. If you’re unmoved by it, I don’t know what’s wrong with you.
This doesn’t mean that Horne doesn’t get flirtatious, spunky, or feisty. “Deed I Do” is a campy little number. It’s a slow seduction, building the number in a similar way that Peggy Lee delivers “Fever.” It’s a fun, cutesy moment in which Horne gets to let loose her jazz-tinged vocal tricks, and it’s completely charming. “The Lady Is a Tramp” is always a highlight with Horne’s tongue-in-cheek reading of the song.
In fact, all of her well-known numbers from her MGM days (“Love,” “Where or When,” “Can’t Help Lovin’ Dat Man”) are given a thorough rendering here. It’s great to watch Horne perform this material, and, more importantly, enjoy herself while doing so. She earns the special Tony award she won for this show with every long note, every belt, and every drop of sweat. Here is an artist purging their soul for the audience, and an appreciative audience lapping it up.
This is footage that needs to be readily available on DVD or on a streaming site instead of a questionable upload to YouTube. Shame that the only way to experience the show as it was intended is on the album, which provides more than half of the show but prevents us from watching Horne in action. No matter, any which way you can experience The Lady and Her Music, do so.
