Musical puts an irreverent emo spin on American history

You’ve probably never thought about this, but populism is a very catchy word—especially when set to emo rock music. “Populism, Yea, Yea,” is the opening number in “Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson,” a partially fictionalized rock musical retelling of the seventh president’s life, currently playing at the Public Theater. Seriously, the song is so surprisingly appealing that I attempted to illegally download it after watching the musical—and I haven’t stolen music since middle school.

The production began with a handsome, skinny-jean-clad Andrew Jackson (Benjamin Walker) on stage surrounded by a band of other actors (who are alternately groupies, musical accompaniment, friends, family members, Native Americans, Martin Van Buren, etc.), asking audience members if we were ready. I responded with an animated “Yeah!” (Besides the surging, contagious energy of the performers, Benjamin Walker makes a surprisingly sexy Andrew Jackson.) At that point, I wasn’t exactly aware of what I was agreeing to. What followed was a 90-minute, abbreviated chronological account of Andrew Jackson’s life and ascendancy to presidential power—infused with and surrounded by a hodgepodge of fun, fantastical, and freakish elements, including a wheelchair-bound lesbian storyteller who was shot in the neck (by Andrew Jackson, no less), ballet-dancing Native Americans, and a little bit romantic, mostly disturbing moment where Jackson and his wife Rachel profess their love by joint bloodletting followed by each splashing the other with their blood. I left the theater with an urge to learn more about Andrew Jackson, an assortment of emo show tunes stuck in my head, and a smile on my face.

A potpourri of anachronisms, sophomoric humor, and smart, sarcastic wit, “Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson” manages to pose some serious questions about politics and power that are relevant today, especially at a time when America is involved in two wars overseas and states are passing bills like the recent Arizona immigration law. Although the musical does not include any overtly political gesturing or espouse any particular viewpoint, it does paint Andrew Jackson as a simultaneously petulant and personable man-child with a strong sense of entitlement. Since Jackson was so influential in shaping American democracy, he represents a sort of incarnation of the beliefs and behaviors that serve as the basis of the American nation. What does Jackson’s signing of the Indian Removal Act of 1830 say about him directly, and America by extension? The musical addressed the ambiguity with which Jackson’s presidency is viewed today: Was “Old Hickory” a gritty maverick or a charismatic monster? Nevertheless, while addressing these very serious questions, the musical remains, for the most part, amusing and lighthearted.

In a note to the audience included in the playbill, artistic director Oskar Eustis said the musical “tackles the core of American populism—that ebullient, sentimental, no-nonsense, self-pitying, anti-intellectual, rowdy energy that is at the core of our national identity. … This is who we are, and if it’s horrifying, it can also be a lot of fun.” I wouldn’t quite say the musical “tackles” the heart of American populism, but it sure does take a few stabs at it—all the while being delightfully irreverent and extremely entertaining. 

Nneka McGuire is a Columbia College junior majoring in creative writing. The Fun, the Fantastical, and the Freakish runs alternate Fridays.