Theatre in Review: Rolling Thunder (New World Stages)The thunder is muted in this new attraction at New World Stages. On paper, I suppose, it must have seemed a likely proposition. After all, no less an authority than the US military newspaper Stars and Stripes called the Vietnam conflict "the first rock-and-roll war." So, why not a jukebox musical about the young men and women whose lives were permanently altered, and often shattered, by their involvement in it? After all, so many songs of the era comment on a war gone wrong and a nation divided. But, in telling its relentlessly grim, downbeat story, the creators of Rolling Thunder haven't found the meaningful link between songs and story that would make it into a wrenching memorial for a generation lost in a national misadventure. It's born to be mild. Bryce Hallett's book follows three soldiers who are so underwritten that they feel like rough drafts rather than fully realized characters. Innocent Johnny enlists, leaving behind his family farm and sending his mother into a crippling depression. Thomas, a Christian and son of the military, wants to be "a leader of men" like his father, an officer with a desk job in Washington. Andy, who is Black, is unhappy about being drafted and for good reason: A wised-up friend, Mike, warns him, "Stay vigilant -- in the field and at the base. Some of the guys don't take well to the fully integrated units." It's typical of Rolling Thunder that this point, which promises some drama, is quickly dropped. Action is scarce because Rolling Thunder consists almost entirely of direct-address monologues and correspondence between the characters. (Those back home include Linda, Johnny's girlfriend, and Jimi, an antiwar activist.) Plenty happens offstage, including the Tet Offensive; onstage, the characters mill around, sinking into sadness and expressing their disillusionment in a series of platitudes. A weary Army nurse says, "I've lost count of the young soldiers in body bags. In this job, there's no time for tears." Commenting on the Robert F. Kennedy assassination, Linda wonders, "Has the world gone crazy?" Johnny, snapping under the pressure, notes, "I'm sorry...I hate what this war is doing to me." A program note says that the text is based on letters and interviews with real people, but the script fails to give these composite characters the kiss of life. Indeed, the book is little more than a list of cues for a collection of oddly selected songs. Some are almost too on-the-nose. For a scene of campus protest, of course, everyone sings Edwin Starr's "War (What is it Good For?)." When soldiers are being deployed home, The Animals' "We Gotta Get Out of This Place" is the obvious choice, I guess, if you don't listen too closely to the lyrics. Then again, many numbers are only faintly connected to the action: Johnny's marriage proposal to Linda is set to The Youngbloods' "Get Together," which is about a very different sort of getting together. And when a character cradles the uniform of a dead soldier, why would she sing the Roberta Flack hit "Killing Me Softly with His Song?" Soul music is barely represented, except for Martha and the Vandellas' "Nowhere to Run," which makes little sense in this context. The cast members can do little to bring their wan characters to life; among them, Justin Matthew Sargent, as the increasingly disillusioned Thomas, best captures an authentic rock sound with his vocal growl, although Deon'te Goodman, as Jimi, scores a well-deserved hand with his outraged reading of "Eve of Destruction" and Drew Becker (as Johnny) brings his beautiful voice to bear on Simon and Garfunkle's "Bridge Over Troubled Waters." Overall, however, the director, Kenneth Ferrone, hasn't managed to work up any musical or dramatic excitement. The evocative production design is a major asset: Wilson Chin's multi-level bandstand set is a sensible, flexible solution that allows the cast plenty of room to roam; the onstage look is filled out with Caite Hevner's highly effective projections combine gorgeous painterly Vietnam imagery with footage of the war and images of draft numbers, helicopters, recruiting posters, and flag-draped coffins. (We also get that ultimate wise man, Walter Cronkite, withdrawing his imprimatur from the war, and Richard Nixon, shifty as ever, defending his policies.) Jake DeGroot's lighting employs an unusual rig (featuring, among other things, vertical strip units) to enliven the numbers with striking effects, including a bold crosshatch of beams during Jimi Hendrix's "All Along the Watchtower." Andrea Lauer's costumes contrast casual military wear with the increasingly flamboyant styles back home. Mike Tracey's sound design is appropriately loud without being overwhelming, allowing the voices to dominate; he also supplies a battery of effects, including plane engines, news reports, and explosions. I never thought I'd write this, but, having lived through the era, the Vietnam War now seems impossibly different; sadly, this piece does little to bring it back. You can make an argument that our current national state of disarray began there, with large chunks of the country learning to distrust the government, but that's not what Rolling Thunder is about. Basically a concert with annotations, it almost entirely misses the fury, disgust, and, yes, utopian thinking that defined those years; a white-hot era is made surprisingly placid, even a little bit dull. --David Barbour 
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