Review: 'Choir Boy' An Emotional Dive Into the Prep School Struggles of One Gay Boy

Pharus has a problem. He knows he's a gifted singer (he calls his throat "the Lord's passageway") and is unable to be anything but his complete, sashaying, effeminate self.  The young men and teachers at his Christian, all-black, prep school for boys appreciate the first quality and have made him leader of the school choir — but most of them are deeply uncomfortable with the second. 

When he takes action to defend himself, kicking a homophobic rival out of the choir, it's Pharus who gets in trouble. And he doesn't know what to do.

Tarell Alvin McCraney (he wrote the film "Moonlight" and the play it was based on) has written a spectacular — and spectacularly complex — character in Pharus. He's proud and self-doubting, narcissistic and kind. Brought to life by an extraordinary, joyful performance from Jeremy Pope, Pharus feels like a real teenager who is struggling to reconcile all the different aspects of his identity, while those around him keep sending subtle (and not so subtle) signals that the very way he moves his body is not OK. 

Pope plays Pharus with a kind of raw vulnerability that may bring to mind Ben Platt in "Dear Evan Hansen." But his performance is completely his own, a combination of mischievous provocation, childlike insecurity, and a deep honesty and warmth that give us a sense of the adult he might become. He'll likely make you cry, and then cheer.

Yet the rest of the show doesn't live up to Pharus' promise. There are too many tropes here: The homophobic, one-noted rival; the white savior teacher; the wise-but-troubled headmaster. The plot, such as it is, doesn't really make sense. And the songs, which are sensational versions of pop tunes and spirituals, seem to be thrown in willy-nilly, instead of propelling the story forward or adding emotional richness. 

But as a character study, "Choir Boy" is simply unparalleled. 

"Choir Boy" by Tarrel Alvin McCraney and directed by Trip Cullman, at Manhattan Theatre Club's Samuel J. Friedman Theatre through Feb. 24.