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Whit Davis

Unsung Black history and exceptional musicality in ‘Mexodus’ at Mosaic

Posted on May 28, 2024

By Whit Davis

This article was originally published in DC Theater Arts here.

Musicals featuring Hip Hop don’t have much grey area these days; they’re either Hamilton or not. Hamilton broadened the theater audience, which helped launch the careers of formerly less celebrated actors into the mainstream. The success of the musical Hamilton arguably may be one of the reasons the Mexodus will be wildly successful.

Mexodus functions to imaginatively explore the true, barely spoken history of the Underground Railroad into Mexico. The play doesn’t rely on spectacle or subversion as major themes. Instead, it takes us on a sonically immersive sensory ride of sound and light with solid storytelling and performances by two complementary actors: Nygel D. Robinson and Brian Quijada. The musical directed by David Mendizábal makes its world premiere at Mosaic Theater Company in a co-production with Baltimore Center Stage.

Mexodus sets the stage with a scenic design by Riw Rakkulchon with elements from the 1800s during the time of slavery in the United States and some time after the Mexican-American war with hints of modern twist like instruments, vinyl scratch set, and what looks like an MPC for making beats. Imagine dark-colored wood accents and other natural elements with a DJ booth in the center of the stage. The two performers address the audience as themselves, warming up the crowd like the opening at a Hip Hop show. They display their musicianship, rhymes, and stage presence in the style of old music-producing videos found on YouTube from the era of Ryan Leslie. Robinson blends R&B, Hip Hop, Gospel, Blues, Jazz and Negro spirituals effortlessly. Quijada brings the Latin element to those genres and highlights a bit of House music as well.

Robinson has a voice that makes you sit up and pay attention. He commands the stage like all great performers tend to do. As he moves in and out of his character, Henry, it becomes clear we’re in for a treat. Robinson is a superstar with unmatched skill and precision. He takes excellent care of Henry, an enslaved man separated from his family on a Texas plantation, by honoring his pain, grief, hope, and humanness in the face of dehumanization. The slave narrative of Henry is a familiar story of looming death sometimes swift, or occurring under 100 sunrises and sunsets on a cotton field from the brutality of free labor. He is forced to run away to try to take back his life, which from birth was never his own.

In the transition from Henry’s story to Carlos’ story, we’re treated to a riveting combination of set design, light, and sound as Henry “wades through the water”; the back of the stage opens to a flowy-like material glowing with blue light and the sound of deep water. The spotlight shifts to Carlos, a former Mexican soldier who has lost everything he once knew after the Mexican-American war. Quijada delivers a compelling performance. His Spanish guitar matches the soulfulness of “Wade in the Water.” He concentrates on the curling of his brows to emphasize the seriousness and grief-stricken nature of Carlos. Henry and Carlos share much in common through the themes of pain and loss while also realizing that they need each other.

This play makes a hurling attempt to share an oral history of the Underground Railroad through Mexico and the notion of solidarity and allyship. What happens when two groups of people work together against white supremacy? Unfortunately, this play misses the mark by not directly confronting anti-Blackness and, as a result, the barriers that prevent true solidarity. It begs the question, Where does art fail? Are the limitations coming from the artists or the art form? Can an audience truly comprehend and deal with the discomfort from the devastating, violent nature of anti-Blackness if confronted head-on? Quijada hints at the monster when he recounts a story of his family stopping at a gas station on the Southside of Chicago, where he learns that Blackness equals fear for many people. Is this a play of possibilities? Despite the Underground Railroad in Mexico, the country has a deep history of anti-Blackness that persists today. When a play is heralded as possibly the next best thing since Hamilton, these conversations are overshadowed by the soundtrack of the musical, and to be fair, the music in Mexodus is quite good.

Mexodus accomplishes its goals as an exciting play that balances shared history and exceptional musicality. This is what you hope for and expect from a musical: to be entertained and maybe to walk away having learned something new. Rest assured, this production is worth seeing!

The scent and feel of an Irish bog in ‘Distillation’ from Solas Nua

Posted on April 25, 2024

By Whit Davis

This article was originally published in DC Theater Arts here.

Distillation is an experiential, interactive production presented by Solas Nua and Abbey Theatre at Eaton DC, brought to life by creator and performer Luke Casserly. It’s a unique blend of performance art and theater, with Casserly serving as the bridge between them. At the heart of this bridge is the star performer, the Irish bog, symbolized by a circular custom-made table by sculptor Ger Clancy and miniature bottled fragrances to be discovered by the audience. Casserly, in his supporting role, beautifully honors the story of the Irish bogs and his deeply personal relationship with them. In this intimate performance, Ireland’s landscape and history are brought to life, allowing the audience to connect with them through scent and touch.

The recent cessation of the peat harvesting industry in Ireland inspired this multidisciplinary performance, which features Casserly providing oral history, video, sound, and costume design.

Every element of the production is essential. The performance starts with smelling coffee beans to cleanse the scent palate and bring the audience to a place of presence. The organic materials of peat and moss pass from person to person for us to touch and smell. The stage is where the audience sits around the table, and the exchanges occur between stranger and artist and stranger.

Irish bogs, once a vital fuel source that created a significant need for jobs, now serve as a central reminder of our environmental impact. The peat-harvesting company Bord na Móna played a key role in this narrative. Peat harvesting, while contributing to carbon dioxide emissions, also had the potential to hold carbon dioxide within the bogs. However, when extracted, they can emit into the atmosphere, leading to the destruction of the ecosystem. Casserly and his family, living with the aftermath of the decision to start and stop peat harvesting, embody the complex and often devastating consequences of our actions on the environment.

Casserly plays the Irish bog. He gives voice to the material, allowing it to speak for itself. Casserly also uses dialogue from a real-life conversation he had with his father. A random audience member plays the father. The interactiveness of the play is a unique touch. How might the work have benefited from more dialogue and less lecture? What if the bog spoke more? What if the eerie weirdness was a much larger theme? The performance is detailed, calculated, delicate, compelling, and weird. The small moments of strangeness have a way of elevating the work.

Distillation reminds us that storytelling can take many forms and shapes, blending mediums and genres. Theater is still alive and well with experimental creativity.

Father comes home from the revolution in ‘Sunset Baby’ at Anacostia Playhouse

Posted on April 15, 2024

By Whit Davis

This article was originally published in DC Theater Arts here.

The story of a Black political prisoner who tries to reconcile with his family makes for a compelling hook. The themes of family, revolution, grief, trauma, and perhaps reconciliation will no doubt pique the curiosity of many. The re-emergence of Sunset Baby by playwright Dominique Morisseau to new audiences may feel timely given the political landscape. This production is only a hop-and-skip over at Anacostia Playhouse.

Nina, played by Tierra Burke, is grieving the loss of her mother and the ever-present loss of herself when, shockingly, a stranger from her past arrives at her front door. The larger-than-life myth of a revolutionary seeking redemption is none other than her father, Kenyatta Shakur, played by DeJeanette Horne, who delivers a deep belly-breathing performance. To Nina, he’s the man who abandoned her and her mother, but to others, he’s still that larger-than-life figure who fought for his people.

The misunderstandings between the father and daughter cling to the bare apartment walls that Nina calls home. The set design by Sidriel Conerly is sparse, mirroring the scarcity of Nina’s emotional life. She’s almost empty from being a caretaker to her mother’s drug addiction, a ride-or-die girlfriend to a manipulative hustler, and now a lonely daughter to a selfish father. The people in Nina’s life are more like broken lamps than beautifully colored sunsets.

Word on the street is that Nina has letters from her late, well-known, impactful revolutionary mother, Ashanti X. A mother to the movement, but a burden to her own child. All Nina has left of her mother are love letters to Kenyatta. These love letters awaken the greediest parts of Damon, Nina’s boyfriend. Shawn Sebastian Naar has complete mastery over this character. Naar’s performance and the dialogue emerge as some of the most intriguing parts of the play.

Damon is a stumbling block to Nina and a balm to her loneliness. Kenyatta and Damon seek to get over by using each other to get what they want: Kenyatta wants the letters, and Damon wants the cash. Nina is driven further into survival mode, doing what she can to stay afloat. What will Nina do? Will she let the sun set on her old life?

Director Deidra LaWan Starnes seeks to excavate the “real” in the experience and bring it to life on stage in Sunset Baby. The hand of the actor, now the director, is evident in the details of the actors’ performances and the nuance of their body language. The delivery of the dialogue is rhythmic and penetrating. However, the music design is distracting. It needs to be a prop, not another character.

The story of the misunderstood Black father and revolutionary who abandoned his family for his people, the drug addict mother, the toxic, manipulative boyfriend, and the daughter who carries the trauma like a baglady tries to tackle too many themes at once. It’s a vast undertaking that doesn’t fully come together. It’s hard to tell where this responsibility belongs. Is this something to address for the director or the writer? Is this something that plagues all of theater?

Still, this play is worth the 90 minutes without an intermission. It begs more questions than answers and calls us to reflect deeply on storytelling in theater, which is what art should accomplish—well done.

Grief tests Black women’s friendship in ‘Long Time Since Yesterday’ at Howard

Posted on November 23, 2023

by Whit Davis

This article was originally published in DC Theater Arts, here.

What happens when life doesn’t turn out as planned? What happens when the promise of always being friends is fractured? Why does it take grief to make us realize what we have? Long Time Since Yesterday by P.J. Gibson, directed by theater student Naynna Hollins, explores these questions through the friendship between six Black women brought back together by a tragic death. The Howard Players revitalize a lesser-known but essential play for their Next Up! Play Festival featuring student-led productions that spotlight the developing artists of the Department of Theatre at Howard University in the Al Freeman Jr. Environmental Theatre Space.

The death of Jeneen (Emil White) reunites college classmates Laveer (senior Jazmine Manfrum), Babbs (Jadah Evelyn Clay), Thelma (Nadira Davis), Panzi (Rebecca Celeste), and Alisa (senior Jayson Roman Broadnax). We find the group gathered together in the home Jeneen shared with her husband. As they reminisce and reflect on who she was or who they thought she was, her suicide unearths deeply held hurts as Babbs admits that she has felt at her lowest despite possessing beauty that people associate with happiness and desirability. She drinks and pacifies herself with jokes and humor, which acts as the thread line through a heartwrenching story. Like Jeneen, Babbs is lonely. Thelma feels ugly despite her achievements. Alisa believes her braggadocious verbosity about her husband and her success cover up her lost sense of self. Panzi is too busy projecting her anger at Laveer to hold space for her feelings about being misunderstood. And Laveer boasts of being a free-spirited artist who is without rooted connections.

Through flashbacks, we learn that the friendship was the strongest between Laveer and Jeneen, but after graduation, a conflict between Laveer and Panzi caused a rift between Jeneen and Laveer. A friendship they both promised would last forever is torn apart. Years later the death of Jeneen’s father brings them back together, back to their promise. The interwoven flashbacks reveal secrets between Jeneen and Panzi, and Jeneen and her husband. The transitions between the flashbacks and the present have perfect timing and are clearly defined so that the story never loses its rhythm, and the audience easily follows the timeline. When the lights dim on the cast, we know we enter a flashback as the spotlight hovers above Jeneen to give her a ghost-like presence.

Who was Jeneen? This question becomes a focal point as each friend except Panzi believes her to be innocent, shy, and childlike. They made little room for her to be big, imperfect, sad, and a 30-something-year-old woman with needs. In an intimate conversation with Laveer, Jeneen reveals the haunting of judgmental voices in her head. She may have lived a life she never truly wanted, while her friends are left to grapple with this truth.

The tension as thick as fog on a crisp fall morning fills the home between Laveer and Panzi until it drowns everyone, and the only way to make it to the surface is to swallow the bitterness of truth. This climatic moment reveals secrets that were ultimately too heavy for Jeneen to live with. These secrets are too heavy for even the living to deal with.

The cast does a fantastic job wrestling with themes of grief, love, and identity in an intimately set black box theater with minimal set design and carefully placed props like a couch and a bookshelf. White’s performance seems to pull from a personal place deep within as she honors Jeneen’s pain. She captures the rollercoaster of emotions felt by Jeneen, moving from joy to despair. Her tears and facial expressions can easily be another character in the story. Celeste’s presence is powerful. With each line she recites, they land eloquently and with ease. She becomes Panzi. Clay has remarkable comedic timing as Babbs. A play this heavy needs humor, and she delivers. The entire cast surrenders to the story.

The Howard Players productions are invaluable because they provide an opportunity for students to explore their talents and gifts. They share them with a community that believes in pursuing art as serious, rigorous, and meaningful work. To be nurtured in a space that values Black stories, Black storytellers, and Black spaces prepares these artists for a career where they may be the only ones. But they will not shrink; they will bloom.

In ‘Black Nativity’ at Howard University, new and upcoming talent shines

Posted on November 10, 2023

By Whit Davis

This article was originally published in DC Theater Arts, here.

At the outset of the production of Langston Hughes’ Black Nativity at Howard University, I was immediately transported back home to the South Side of Chicago to the churches I attended in my youth. I suspect that Hughes’ goal was for this play to be experiential, a sort of journey home to the self, and the director Eric Ruffin is keenly aware of Hughes’ purpose with each scene intimately woven with Black gospel and hymns and choreography.

Black Nativity is the biblical story of how Jesus came into this world. A blessing bestowed upon Mary (Nia Potter) and Joseph (Yisrael Robinson) through God or All for humanity. Regardless of your faith, religion, or beliefs, this is a Holiday story to remind us of love and community and to explore the unique expressions of Blackness.

Howard University’s Theatre Department has a robust legacy launching the careers of such notable actors as Lynn Whitfield and Chadwick Boseman. So it’s no surprise that there are new and upcoming talents in this play who will undoubtedly leave their mark on theater, film, and television. The ensemble members of the cast gave performances worthy of gossip over Sunday dinner. Wynter Cook (senior BFA Musical Theatre major), Kendrick Jackson (sophomore Jazz Studies major, Voice concentration), and Jantanies Thomas (senior BFA Musical Theatre major) possess remarkable stage presence and have the vocals to match. Jackson is a triple threat: acting, singing, and dancing with such poise that one can tell he’s born to do this.

Black Nativity’s creative team shines through with each scene. The musical performances remind me of the best of Bobby Jones Gospel and the Stellar Awards, thanks to musical director Greg Watkins, music arranger/consultant e’Marcus Harper-Short, sound designer Michael Willis, and the band. The music flows in a call-and-response-like rhythm, drawing in the audience to clap their hands, stomp their feet, and do their dance. The choreography of Princess Mhoon (choreographer) and Daniel L. Moore (assistant choreographer) unleashes a magnetism of movement felt by the audience. The icing on the cake is the costumes transitioning from Act One biblical garments to what reads as ’90s clothes, similar to the album cover of Kirk Franklin and the Family in Act Two, all thanks to costume advisor Frankie Bethea and the costume crew.

There are a few shortcomings related to lighting, sound issues, and a slight shakiness in performances from the young actors finding their way. Yet none of these occurrences dim a light on the very entertaining and worthwhile production. Howard University continues to live up to its reputation for offering the world its best through Black Nativity!

Laughing and feeling our way to ‘The Mountaintop,’ at Round House Theatre

Posted on October 25, 2023

By Whit Davis

This article was originally published in DC Theater Arts here.

I’ve always wanted to sit with Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. on the mountaintop to gaze at the stars, to drink the Milky Way, and to pray silently to our ancestors. The mystery of Martin Luther King Jr.’s inner world has always been of great interest to me. Dr. King was a thoughtful writer. As much skill as he had on stages, in pulpits, in front of cameras, and on streets, he could command a page. His work lives with me like a ghost, gently haunting me to read more and better and then drown in his poetics. So much of his legacy is co-opted, repackaged, and sold by big corporations. They rework his image until he is more cotton candy than fire blazed to sundown towns.

Katori Hall’s play The Mountaintop (now playing at Round House Theatre) is a reminder, a wake-up call to all who think they know or knew King. She asks us to think, look, and listen again. She spars with our imagination. Her words land like Ali vs. Foreman. We’ve got to go deeper; no, we must go higher!

In The Mountaintop,  we find King, played by Ro Boddie, in his hotel room in Memphis at the Lorraine Motel the night before his assassination. He’s alone working on his speech, but only briefly before the arrival of a woman who, at first, seems to be merely a hotel staff member navigating her first day bringing King the coffee he requested from room service. An assumed brief encounter turns into a heartfelt, intimate conversation. Camae (Carrie Mae), as her character pronounces it, played by Renea S. Brown, is utterly hilarious. She’s quick-witted, outspoken, edgy, and lyrically weaves curse words together to tickle your insides. King’s character finds himself in awe of her beauty, her light, and the way she shows up authentically. He unsuspectingly lets his guard down, discards his God-like persona, and allows her to see him vulnerable.

Throughout the brilliantly woven dialogue, Hall suggestively allows us to feel the looming darkness as King keeps describing not feeling well. Camae is never alarmed by his remarks as they share cigarettes and secrets throughout the night. King is frightened of the loud thundering noise from the storm, and Camae is his unexpected comfort. At a critical moment, King’s paranoia raises its head, suspecting her of being a spook, resisting the calling to see her more deeply, more spiritually, out of fear, out of what he knows has been whispering his childhood name, Michael.

King and Camae both take command of the stage, supported by the set design of the hotel room, thanks to Paige Hathaway. The actors are both keenly aware of their mannerisms and the space they occupy. There’s something special about their performance. They share chemistry, trust each other, and know where the other ends and begins. Brown and Boddie are evenly matched in talent and build off each other with each line. The actors have great respect and seriousness for their roles. Boddie as King is powerful yet gentle. He makes King human. He brings him down to his details, to what makes a man, to the heart of what it means to be a person. Both actors are brilliant and deserve our witnessing, celebration, and acknowledgment for giving their all to this production.

TOP: Renea S. Brown (Camae) and Ro Boddie (Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.); ABOVE: Ro Boddie (Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.) and Renea S. Brown (Camae) in ‘The Mountaintop.’ Photos by Margot Schulman Photography.

After the climax, there is a sweet, honest moment between Camae and King, arguably where the play could have ended. Instead, Hall shifts us to a montage of Blackness, a dreamlike passing of the baton by King. This part of the production seems disjointed and whimsically too hopeful. What if Delicia Turner Sonnenberg’s directing deviated from Hall’s ending into something more cunning, daring, and shocking? I love celebrating our Blackness, but I’m interested in narratives that allow minds to travel to an abstract end. I wanted the audience to be responsible for reflecting and contending with going further into our inner world. Finding joy when the darkness King felt is still alive feels forced. I have to ask Hall, who did you write this ending for? America is still America. Yet, as I wrestle with Hall’s creative choices, which are inspiration from her mother, I cannot help but be thankful for her talent. She’s undeniably one of the best storytellers we have now. From the stage to television, she skillfully entertains and seduces our intellect.

The Mountaintop is mandatory viewing!

2023 Capital Fringe Review: ‘The Road to the End’ by Bella Panciocco

Posted on July 25, 2023

By Whit Davis

This article was originally published in DC Theater Arts here.

It’s been said that laughter is the best medicine. The Road to the End uses comedy to tell a story of grief and how we can use it to process our feelings. In 75 minutes the play examines themes of loss, grief, memories, friendship, bravery, and forgiveness.

What appears to be a fairly regular road trip to the Grand Canyon for a father and son, Steve and Henry, actually turns into something surprising. They pick up a hitchhiker by the name of Dabria. She helps the characters to peel back the layers of their rocky relationship. In many ways, Dabria and Henry are alike. They’re both travelers with heavy baggage who are looking to escape from the pain they’re feeling. Over the course of their journey, Henry and Dabria help each other make peace with their past and the people they love.

 The play uses two sets of characters for the past and present, which could have made the story difficult to follow, but the actors were very committed to their characters. The actors maintain the relational dynamics between the characters in the present and references to the past, and as a result, we always stay aware of the story.

I left this play reflecting on road trips, a seemingly mundane thing but a shared experience many of us can relate to.

If you’re interested in a quirky heartwarming story that confronts the sometimes complicated relationships between a child and their parent — especially an adult child and their parent — I recommend this play.