Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson

In Bloody Bloody, which previously played downtown at the Public Theater earlier this year, Jackson, our seventh president, is a towering emo rock star. As played by the dazzlingly captivating Benjamin Walker, this head-of-state is pumped up with a kind of chest-pounding swagger that, moments later, deflates to a whimper and a pout. These mood swings, the show seems to suggest, mirror the mood swings of our nation, particularly during the troubled period of history over which Jackson presided.

He marries a woman named Rachel (the quirky, refreshing Maria Elena Ramirez), who is already married, bringing the cloud of bigamy over their heads; in a relationship that already includes mutual bloodletting, the bigamy seems to be the least of their worries. But Jackson can't give Rachel the attention she needs and deserves, instead taking to the campaign trail (this duality is depicted expertly in the songs The Great Compromise and Public Life).

The show's best asset is its irreverence. The events included in the show are narrated by The Storyteller, played by Kristine Nielsen (who, in her more human approach to her character, improves upon Colleen Werthmann's characterization at the Public). The Storyteller, a bookish librarian type in a wheelchair, is held up as an example of the kind of narrator that makes history unappealing to students - she drones a bit, and she sticks to the facts.

The actors, however, proclaim in the song I'm So That Guy that "sometimes you have to make your own story, sometimes you have to shoot the storyteller in the neck." They do just that, and the story proceeds at a manic pace as the happy band of emocratic (their word) actors blaze through a semi-true account of Jackson's life.

Michael Friedman's score, which features rock anthems like Populism, Yea Yea; I'm So That Guy; and Rock Star, is balanced out by other, more plot-driven songs like The Corrupt Bargain and Crisis Averted. Occasionally, the band members take a stab at adding bits to Jackson's story, and Justin Levine's summative ballad Second Nature is a perfect note to end on.

Though I'm still conflicted as to the numerous, glaring historical inaccuracies of the piece (there are too many to name), I was entirely captivated by the show's bounding energy. And while stereotypes of the disabled (namely the Storyteller), Native Americans, and gays abound, the show is an equal-opportunity (or, rather, populist) offender that mostly uses its jabs as comments within the context of the show's already-irreverent assessment of the controversial Jackson. The bottom line is that you really ought to go get sexypantsed.

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