"A Raisin in the Sun" at Guthrie Theater

The American classic A Raisin in the Sun premiered in 1959, making Lorraine Hansberry the first female Black playwright on Broadway, but it's anything but dated. Unfortunately, racism, discrimination, and unjust practices like redlining are still very much a part of our world, as evidenced by the recent racist and anti-Semitic fueled mass shooting in Buffalo, and the fact that in Minnesota 77% of White families own their homes compared to only 26% of Black families. This is the legacy of the world Hansberry wrote about that we're still experiencing. The Guthrie's production of this ever-relevant piece is beautifully wrought, from the detailed set to the raw and emotional performances by the entire cast. You can see it now through June 5 on the Guthrie's proscenium stage.

"Jitney" at Penumbra Theatre

Jitney is the first play in the so-called "Century Cycle" that August Wilson wrote, but, set in the '70s, it's the 8th in the series chronologically. Each of the ten plays speaks to the African American experience (which I've learned at Penumbra Theatre is really the American experience) in one decade in the 20th Century. This is only the third Century play I've seen, after Ma Rainey's Black Bottom (set in the '20s) and Two Trains Running (the '60s) in 2011. I seem to recall that Penumbra planned to produce one of these plays every year, or maybe every other, but plans were derailed during their financial setback of 2012. I'm happy that they've returned to August Wilson's work during this, their 40th anniversary season. Penumbra has a long history with August Wilson, having produced his first professional play and more of his plays that any other theater. We are privileged to have Penumbra in our community, and I hope that they continue to do the Century plays until I've seen them all. August Wilson wrote such rich characters and specific experiences that speak to the universal truths of friends and family, love and heartbreak. And Penumbra's troupe of actors is experienced and quite brilliant in bringing these stories to life, as they do in Jitney.

"Detroit '67" at Penumbra Theatre

1967 Detroit was one of the high points in American music with the boom of the Motown sound, including such greats as The Temptations, The Supremes, Marvin Gaye, and little Stevie Wonder. But it was also one of the low points in American racial tension, as manifested in one of the largest riots in history that ended with over 40 people killed and over 1000 injured. The new play Detroit '67 by Dominique Morisseau nicely juxtaposes these two worlds as they come together in a clash of music and violence, as seen through the lives of one family. Featuring a super cool soundtrack and a strong five-person cast, Detroit '67 is as much fun and entertaining as it is sobering and thought-provoking.

Sister and brother Chelle and Lank have inherited their deceased parents' home and a little money. With the help of their friends Bunny and Sly, they've turned the basement into an occasional dance club, to enjoy music with their friends and make a little money to help with Chelle's son's education. The widowed Chelle is happy with the simple life, keeping a nice home and making some extra money to send to her son, but Lank longs for something more. When Sly asks him to go in with him to invest in a local bar, Lank jumps at the chance despite his sister's objections. While out one night, Sly and Lank come across a mysterious and injured young white woman and bring her back to the house to recover. Chelle is not happy with this, knowing the trouble it could bring in segregated Detroit, but reluctantly agrees to let the girl stay if she helps around the house. She has a past that, when she reveals it to Lank, bonds the two of them. When the riots start, Lank and Sly are right in the middle of it, trying to protect their new business. It doesn't end well, but no matter what happens, the music lives on. And so do these people, as best they can.

Chelle and Sly (Austene Van and James T. Alfred) dance as
Caroline (Elizabeth Efteland) looks on (photo by Bridget Bennett)

As Chelle and Lank, Austene Van and Darius Dotch are believable as siblings who love each other even when they're annoyed with each other, and also create strong individual characters. Austene's Chelle is guarded but seemingly content with her life, not wanting to change or take a chance, until she begins to open up culminating in a beautiful final moment. Darius' Lank is ambitious and bristles at the unfairness of life. James T. Alfred as Sly is as smooth as his suit, and easily charms both siblings. Jamecia Bennett is a hoot as the flamboyant Bunny, and Elizabeth Efteland is appropriately enigmatic as the mysterious stranger who's obviously had a tough life and is looking for more. Under Shirley Jo Finney's direction the five play, argue, and dance well together.

another dancing couple: Bunny and Lank (Jamecia Bennett
and Darius Dotch, photo by Bridget Bennett)

I'm a sucker for period costumes and sets, and the late '60s is one of my favorite eras. This Detroit basement may be about as far away as you can get from the Madison Avenue of Mad Men, but it's super fabulous in its own way. Firstly, Mathew LeFebvre's set is incredibly detailed and lived in, like it was transported in a time capsule from 1967. And while I missed the '60s by a few years, I still reveled in the nostalgic familiarity of the shag carpet, wood paneling, 8-track player, knitted afghan on the couch, and bright clashing colors, not dissimilar to my own basement as a kid. I only wish mine were this cool! Aaron Chvatal's costumes are also super fabulous, from Sly's smooth suits, to Chelle's casual wear and flats, to the dressed-to-the-nines Bunny, bedecked in bright and colorful dresses, with matching fab shoes that I covet, and plenty of bangles. And while part of me wanted to see that basement dance party in all its style, it's nicely hinted at by dancing shadows on the wall (video and sound design by Martin Gwinup, whom I assume is also to be thanked for that fabulous '60s soundtrack).

Penumbra always does top quality work, and often educates me about parts of our history of which I am unaware, like the 1967 Detroit riots. It's one of my favorite things about theater - a chance to be entertained while also learning something new, empathizing with characters, and pondering what it all means and how it relates to the world (black men being killed by cops is sadly not a relic of the past). Detroit '67 continues at St. Paul's Penumbra Theatre through May 17.

"The Mountaintop" by Penumbra Theatre at the Guthrie Theater

Last Sunday I saw Abe Lincoln and Uncle Tom in the White House in the Guthrie Studio Theater, an imagined conversation between the two men, one real and one imagined, on the night before the historic signing of the Emancipation Proclamation. This Sunday I attended Penumbra's production of The Mountaintop in the Proscenium Theater, another imagined conversation between a real and imagined person on the eve of another important event in the history of Civil Rights. This time that conversation is between Martin Luther King, Jr. and a mysterious woman. It shows us a different side of this great and iconic man, one that's much more human. I found it to be funny, tragic, inspiring, and really beautiful.

As the audience is still filing into the rich red of the Guthrie Proscenium, Martin Luther King, Jr., in the form of the magnificent James T. Alfred, paces around his onstage hotel room, as we get a glimpse into the private time of this very public man. After several minutes, the lights go down and the play begins. Martin calls room service for coffee, which is delivered by the spunky hotel employee Camae (the delightful Erika LaVonn) on her first day on the job. The two embark on a frank and informal conversation, about Civil Rights as well as more mundane topics like cigarettes and style choices. It's soon revealed that Camae is not exactly who she says she is, and the play veers into the fantastical world of the imagination, although still grounded in reality. This play shows us that great leaders are not perfect. They have fears, flaws, and stinky feet, just like the rest of us. But yet they persevere and try to improve the world we live in, despite the personal costs.

This two-person cast, directed by Lou Bellamy, is absolutely captivating. James T. Alfred brings so much humanity and vulnerability to MLK, and he also portrays the commanding dignity of the preacher. Erika LaVonn is a true delight - charming, funny, spirited, and lively. The two of them create a wonderful space in which this inspiring story unfolds.

The Mountaintop judiciously employs some pretty fantastic technical elements of sets, sound, lighting, and video: the perfectly replicated 1960s hotel room, the weather effects of rain, snow, and lighting, Camae's special powers, the stars of the cosmos, and highlights of the last 45 years of history displayed in images on the back of the stage. Without these elements, the play would still be effective, but they make the message even more impactful. (Scenic design by Vicki Smith, lighting design by Don Darnutzer, and sound and video design by Martin Gwinup.)

One theme of the play is that Civil Rights and justice for all is a relay race, and Martin Luther King, Jr. ran just one leg of the race, albeit a pivotal one. This play makes me feel like all of us can and should take up the baton passed to us by MLK and continue his work and the work of so many others. Go see The Mountaintop, playing through April 19 at the Guthrie Theater, for an inspiring new look into the life of this legendary leader.

Like anybody, I would like to live a long life. Longevity has its place. But I'm not concerned about that now. I just want to do God's will. And He's allowed me to go up to the mountain. And I've looked over. And I've seen the Promised Land. I may not get there with you. But I want you to know tonight, that we, as a people, will get to the promised land!*

*Martin Luther King's final speech.

"Two Trains Running" at Penumbra Theatre

I saw my first August Wilson play earlier this year, Penumbra Theatre's production of Ma Rainey's Black Bottom at the Guthrie.  I was so affected by it that I now have a goal to see all of the plays in Wilson's ten-play cycle, each one covering the African American experience in a different decade in the 20th century.  Lucky for me I live here, where the Penumbra Theatre in St. Paul has produced more August Wilson plays than any other theater in the country.  So it's pretty likely that I'll meet my goal in the next ten years or so.

Ma Rainey is set in the 1920s, and Two Trains Running is set in the 1960s.  It has a little more of a happy ending that what I remember from Ma Rainey, which has a pretty bleak outlook.  This play takes place in a fading restaurant in Pittsburgh in 1969.  The city wants to buy it from the owner, Memphis, and he's determined to set his own price.  The play's characters are the locals who frequent the restaurant (played by many of the same actors I saw in Ma Rainey).  They play the numbers in hopes of a way out, drink coffee, argue with each other, and visit "Aunt Edna," a woman who claims she's over 300 years old and can predict the future.

James Craven (who still sounds like Tommy Lee Jones) is Memphis and has a couple of great moments, including a drunken celebratory scene.  Memphis' land was taken away from him in the South, so he moved north to make a better life for himself.  He has, but still thinks about going home.  Crystal Fox, the only woman in the cast, plays the unappreciated waitress Risa.  She drags her heels slowly around the stage, pouring coffee, wiping down tables, and refilling the sugar.  Her weariness with life is evident in every word, expression, and movement, until she finds something to hope for.  Namely, the newcomer Sterling (James T. Alfred), who's just been released from prison and is restlessly looking for a job or something to occupy his time and energy.  Wolf (Kevin D. West) uses the restaurant as an office for his business running numbers and tries to get Risa's attention, but she's not interested.  West (Dennis W. Spears) is the rich man in town who owns the funeral home as well as many businesses, and has been trying to buy Memphis out for years.  Abdul Salaam El Razzac is the regular Holloway, who seems like he's been coming in, sitting at the same table, and eating the same food for years.  And then there's the man called Hambone because every day for ten years he demands the ham that was promised him in payment, and never gets it.  Ahanti Young, who was so great as Ma Rainey's stuttering nephew, again plays someone who doesn't quite fit in with such tenderness and dignity.  All of these characters are so beautifully created and lived in by these actors.  The set looked real and lived in too; I wanted to pull up a chair and order some macaroni and cheese.  By the end of the play, Memphis gets his price, Sterling and Risa attend a rally for Malcolm X, and Hambone gets his ham.  Things are changing, the neighborhood is dying, but there's hope for the future.

Although I've seen a few Penumbra productions at the Guthrie, this was my first time at their theater near Selby and Dale in St. Paul.  It's a great space (it feels fresh and modern with great artwork on the walls) in a great location (close to the freeway with lots of nearby restaurants).  Here's an easy equation to remember: August Wilson + Penumbra Theatre = great theater not to be missed.  I look forward to the next one.

"Ma Rainey's Black Bottom" by Penumbra Theatre at the Guthrie

August Wilson wrote ten plays about the African-American experience, each covering one decade in the 20th century.  He lived in St. Paul for over ten years and worked closely with Penumbra Theatre, which has produced more of his plays than any other theater in the world, including several world premieres.  They're currently doing Ma Rainey's Black Bottom at the Guthrie, directed by Penumbra Artistic Director Lou Bellamy.  Set in Chicago in the 1920s, Ma Rainey is a fictional account of a recording session of the real life blues singer of the same name.  But it's really about so much more than that.  The way Wilson weaves in themes of racism and history and unspeakable horror along with an entertaining and humorous story is just remarkable.  After the show there was a discussion let by Penumbra Education Director Sarah Bellamy and two experts on race relations, Herbert A. Perkins and Elona Street-Stewart.  The discussion was much more profound and insightful than anything I could say!

Everyone in this cast is amazing in their roles.  Ma Rainey is played by Jevetta Steele of the fabulous local singing family The Steeles.  Ma is what some might call a "diva."  But really, she's a woman who knows what she wants and knows that her power is limited.  Before her voice is recorded, while there's something that she has that the studio owner and her manager still want, she is able to exert some power over her situation.  But as soon as the recording is done and she's signed the release, they don't need her anymore and she's nothing to them.  The four-member band is comprised of Cutler (James Craven), the leader who speaks in rapid-fire words that reminded me of Tommy Lee Jones; Toledo (Abdul Salaam El Razzac), the wise and book-reading piano player; Slow Drag (William John Hall, Jr.), the easy-going bass player; and Levee (James T. Alfred) a young man who has dreams and ambitions of his own.  He wants to play his own arrangements and improvisations, which does not go over well with Ma.  Much of the play is these four men talking and joking with each other.  Their characters are so specific and interesting that it's a pleasure to listen to them go on about nothing, but also difficult at times when we catch glimpses of the pain that's behind it all.

The recording session hits a few rough patches.  Ma wants her stuttering nephew Sylvester (Ahanti Young) to record an intro to one of the songs, and it's just heart-breaking to listen to him struggle with the words until he gets it right.  Ma's glamorous girl Dussie Mae (Lerea Carter) flirts with Levee, spurring Ma on to jealousy.  All the while the studio owner Sturdyvant (played by Michael Tezla, my costar from A Serious Man), watches from the office above while Ma's manager Irvin (Phil Kilbourne) acts as a go-between, making sure everyone is happy and gets what they want.  Eventually the songs are recorded satisfactorally and Ma and her entourage leave the studio.  The band is left behind to pack up their things.  Levee gives Sturdyvant some songs that he wrote, hoping to record them with his own band.  Instead, Sturdyvant gives him five dollars for each song and sends him on his way.  Levee is devastated, and takes his anger and disappointment out on one of the other band members in a tragic ending to the play.  It's an ending that's been bubbling up throughout the course of the play, almost as if it were inevitable.  Which doesn't make it any less shocking.

There's so much that needs to be said about this play, and I don't even know where to begin.  I guess I'll close by saying: if you have the chance to see an August Wilson play, take it.  Obviously I don't know a whole lot about what it means to be a person of color in this country.  But I feel like after watching an August Wilson play, I understand a little bit more of our shared history.  I'm making it a goal to see all ten plays in the cycle at some point in my lifetime.  One down, nine to go.