A Story with a Problem
From the beginning, Memphis had a compelling hook: it was loosely based on the true story of Dewey Phillips, one of the first white disc jockeys to play Black music on mainstream radio in the 1950s. Book writer Joe DiPietro and composer David Bryan (of
Bon Jovi fame) fictionalized Phillips into the quirky, energetic Huey Calhoun. The initial concept centered on Huey, a white man who falls in love with what was then called “race music” and fights to bring it to a segregated white audience. Early workshops and productions established this framework, but a core problem emerged. The story of a white DJ discovering Black music risked becoming another “white savior” narrative, where the Black characters and their culture existed mainly to facilitate the white protagonist's journey. Critics of early versions noted that the second act often lost steam, an issue that hinted at a deeper structural flaw.
The Rewrite That Found the Heart
The creative team, led by DiPietro, identified the issue: the show wasn't just about Huey's love for the music; it was about his love for the person who embodied that music. The solution was a pivotal rewrite that elevated the character of Felicia Farrell, the ferociously talented Black singer Huey falls for. This wasn't just a minor tweak. The change involved deepening Felicia's ambitions, her personal stakes, and her emotional arc, making her a co-lead rather than a supporting love interest. Her journey became as central as Huey's. This shift gave the show its true engine: a complex, forbidden interracial love story set against the backdrop of a cultural revolution. Songs like Felicia's powerful ballad "Colored Woman" and her determined anthem "Someday" became pillars of the show, giving her a voice and perspective that grounded the narrative in something more profound than just Huey's crusade.
Balancing the Scales
By making Felicia an equal force, the musical could more honestly explore its central themes. The story became less about a white man popularizing Black music and more about the opportunities and dangers that arise when two worlds collide. It directly confronted the realities of cultural appropriation when Felicia's brother, Delray, expresses his fear that Huey will not only take advantage of his sister but also “steal” their music for his own fame. The rewrite also gave the ending its bittersweet power. Instead of a simple happily-ever-after, Memphis concludes with Huey and Felicia parting ways—she heads to national stardom, and he remains in the city that lives in him. This realistic, poignant conclusion would have been impossible without first establishing Felicia as a character with her own dreams, separate from Huey's.
From Good Idea to Tony Gold
The impact of this structural overhaul was immense. With a fortified narrative and emotional core, Memphis went from a promising show with a problematic premise to a critical and commercial darling. After successful runs at the La Jolla Playhouse and 5th Avenue Theatre, it opened on Broadway in 2009 to largely positive reviews. While some critics still found the book formulaic, they almost unanimously praised the powerhouse performances of Montego Glover as Felicia and Chad Kimball as Huey—a testament to how the new script empowered its leads. In 2010, this once-flawed show beat out several competitors to win four Tony Awards, including the coveted prize for Best Musical, Best Book, and Best Original Score. It was proof that the risky, substantial rewrite had not just improved the show but had, in fact, saved it from mediocrity and transformed it into a champion.
