Category: News

Produced with electric vitality at Studio Theatre, George C. Wolfe’s damning satire told in 11 vignettes and directed by Psalmayene 24 refuses to become another artifact.

Melissa Lin Sturges July 12th, 2024 for the Washington City Paper

“You are allowed to laugh audibly” reads a note from playwright Dominique Morisseau’s “Rules of Engagement, excerpted in Studio Theatre’s program for The Colored Museum. Morisseau’s note is a reminder to audiences that, despite the toxicity they might encounter in the 11 vignettes that compose George C. Wolfe’s play, the story is fundamentally satirical. Arguably one of the most incisive and methodical satires of the 20th century, The Colored Museum invites audiences to sit with discomfort and embrace humor openly as they confront the absurd contradictions of what it means to be Black in America.

Needless to say, laughter abounded throughout the audience the night I saw The Colored Museum, directed by Psalmayene 24 and playing at Studio through Aug. 11. Wolfe’s play features a series of satirical sketches presented as though exhibits in a museum. A commentary on the coloniality of museums themselves, these episodes depict various themes and stories about Black American life and history—ranging from questions of artistic assimilation and representation to enslavement. Under Psalm’s careful but abundantly creative direction—and with an ironically carnivalesque aesthetic—the production casts light onto that which is inherently ridiculous and ill-conceived throughout these histories. 

Upon entering the theater, audiences are greeted by a display of artwork inspired by Wolfe’s play and constructed by visual arts students at Duke Ellington School of the Arts. Moving further into the theater, Natsu Onoda Power (credited here as environmental designer rather than set designer) has constructed a multifaceted museum display complete with equal elements of panache and voyeurism. From a semi-urban living room to a boudoir and the jungles of Vietnam, these seamlessly transitioning design elements are aided by Kelly Colburn’s vivid but nuanced projections, which just as easily summon Black iconography as they do a sense of anonymity. Yet, it is the layout of the audience itself that holds the most political edge. What at first feels like an arbitrary replacement of traditional theater seats with plywood benches is quickly understood to represent the hold of a cargo ship from which, in a jarring moment, Ayanna Bria Bakari introduces herself as Miss Pat, our rosy cruise attendant aboard the “Celebrity Slaveship.”

After earning accolades as a playwright with the 1986 premiere of The Colored Museum, five-time Tony Award winner Wolfe rose to further theatrical acclaim after directing parts one and two of Tony Kushner’s Angels in America on Broadway in 1993 and 1994. In 2020, he directed the film adaptation of August Wilson’s Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom starring Viola Davis and Chadwick Boseman. While Wolfe is more publicly recognized as a director than a playwright, The Colored Museum demonstrates an impenetrable vision through which the theatergoers’ relationship to the events of stage is explored from the get-go. 

On the night I attended, about three-quarters of the audience was White, calling to mind Wolfe’s recommendation that “The best houses are half-Black and half-White. There’s a dangerous tension that has to resolve itself in laughter.” Wolfe feels more interested in exploring and embracing tension than in any attempts to resolve such tension, and suggests there is no better way of doing so in this play than the collective responses of laughter and awe. Notably, Studio will also host a Black Out Night on July 26 to honor and prioritize Black theatergoers’ experiences more fully. With the intent to impact, challenge, and at times radicalize those who attend his plays, Wolfe says in a 1986 interview that “In many respects, the central character of [The Colored Museum] is the audience.” 

That is not to say that this excellent cast of five (Bakari, Kelli Blackwell, Iris Beaumier, Matthew Elijah Webb, and William Oliver Watkins) did not step up to the task at hand. Standout performances included Watkins and Webb playing two parts of the same person in a face-off examination of assimilatory Blackness, and the perfectly timed Blackwell, astonished to find herself in the midst of an argument with her two talking wigs. Plus, Beaumier dazzles as the Black diva Lala Lamazing Grace, but just as easily accesses this character’s vulnerability during one of the play’s few instances of visible tenderness imparted by child actor Ruth Benson in a cameo appearance. 

Far and away this play’s most scathing indictment of American theater is a vignette entitled “The Last Mama-on-the-Couch Play,” a not-so-subtle parody of Lorraine Hansberry’s A Raisin in the Sun. This pastiche is not a criticism of Hansberry’s work (a pioneering Black woman playwright who Wolfe greatly admires, but who at the time faced pushback for downplaying Black radicalism), but rather a means to examine and to push the work further. As the actors battle over whose storyline is the most tragic, they similarly grapple for a literal Oscar statue, claiming victory for each overindulgent monologue and gratuitous development in this play-within-a-play. 

With a live soundtrack by Kysia Bostic and with Jabari Exum as the production’s onstage drummer (pulling double duty as a nighttime museum security guard), the play has a mellifluous quality to it as well. This culminates into a final musical number only described by Wolfe as a “vocal and visual cacophony, which builds and builds” toward embracing contradictions and finding power in righteous madness. Produced with electric vitality, this damning satire enters a new century at Studio Theatre. But at the end of the day, The Colored Museum refuses to consider itself another artifact, looking instead toward a more constructive social future. 

The Colored Museum, written by George C. Wolfe and directed by Psalmayene 24, plays at Studio Theater through Aug. 11; Black Out Night starts at 8 p.m. on July 26. studiotheatre.org. $25-$114.

Posted By: Katie Barnetton: June 06, 2024 for MD Theatre Guide

Are you watching closely? Go see “Topdog/Underdog” at Round House Theatre, and you better. From Chekhov’s gun to sleight of hand, the fates and actions of the characters turn on a dime—make that a card. Written by award-winning playwright Suzan-Lori Parks and directed by Jamil Jude, “Topdog/Underdog” (2002 Pulitzer Prize Winner and 2023 Tony Award for Best Revival of a Play) lives on the edge of a knife while questioning every aspect of society, history, and the individual.

I would see this play again just for the synergy of these actors…perfect pacing, lyrical delivery, and impressive emotional range.

The work is a two-man show about the lives of brothers Lincoln (Ro Boddie) and Booth (Yao Dogbe). I won’t reveal how the brother’s got their names, but they (and you) are certainly left to make sense of the joke. From the outset, Parks leaves audiences wondering which brother is on top. Booth opens the show practicing street hustling moves in his flat. While his skills are electric, his bookshelf is made from milk cartons. Lincoln enters and collapses into a recliner, still dressed in top hat and tails from his sit-down job. What seems like a classic responsible older brother/struggling younger brother scenario quickly flips when Booth reveals that Lincoln is the one couch surfing. Yet, even as Lincoln tries to forget his ex-wife Cookie, Booth can’t quite get a ring on his elusive love, Grace.

The rest of the show doesn’t get clearer, and ambiguity is where Park’s genius resides. Just like Three-Card Monte (Booth’s chosen hustle), it seems impossible to track exactly what game hand the brothers are playing. David and Jonathan? Jacob and Esau? Are the shared stories, secret handshakes, and condom recommendations just that, or is there something more sinister going on? What is clear is each brother’s struggle to understand himself, what went wrong, and how to reclaim space in the world.

The backdrop for this were the play’s many costume changes. In Act 1, pilfered suits, street clothes, jackets, hats, and shoes came on and off as frequently as the characters questioned themselves. Act 2 formed a direct contrast as each brother settled into an outfit and attempted to live out his answers. The importance of names/name changes was referenced throughout. Booth considered changing his name to “Three Card” and Lincoln/Linc often pulled at the irony of his job position as “Honest Abe.” Careers and career changes were also major topics of discussion. Booth repeatedly tried to convince Lincoln to join him as hustle partner, while Lincoln gritted his teeth over the injustices he endures to keep his job with benefits. While these turns of thought were interesting on their own, their true intrigue was what they revealed about each character’s struggles and identity.

Park’s plays are known for repetition and revisions, and these abounded in “Topdog/Underdog.” Dualities, such as dressing and undressing, history and modernity, older brother and younger brother, Cookie and Grace, Mom and Dad, saving or squandering, hustling or honest living, and who looks out for whom filled and modulated through the dialogue. When their development was over, “life’s deep questions” popped out of this mix. The only book that Booth possessed was his family photo album, and both brothers looked through it as frequently as they could. They constantly questioned why their parents left each other, why their parents left them, and why their parents showed them things they could not unsee. Of course, all of this resolved in the play’s rousing conclusion whether the audience felt ready for it or not.

One aspect of the play that is not in question is the jaw-dropping talent of Boddie and Dogbe. I would see this play again just for the synergy of these actors. Boddie and Dogbe kept the entire show running at hot barrel through their perfect pacing, lyrical delivery, and impressive emotional range. Amidst all of the fast-changing dynamics, Boddie and Dogbe managed to keep their motivations even hidden from themselves. They also let humor and love shine through in what is primarily a dark play. I could often see the little boy brothers within the grown men. This duo is theatrical excellence at its best, and the standing ovation they received was well deserved.

Also impressive was each actor’s prowess in portraying card hustling. I congratulate the work of card manipulation consultant, Ryan Phillips, for help making their movements mesmerizing. The click of the cards combined with winning words and smooth moves made it easy to understand why passersby would be drawn to the scam.

The production crew did an amazing job creating a world for the story to occur. Set designer Meghan Raham provided a physical space to match the brother’s emotional landscape. Rickety furniture, disheveled wallpaper, and the crumpled pile of Booth’s books showed the threadbare state of the brothers’ lives and hopes. Act 2 provided a brief attempt at covering these realities, but nothing could drown the ever-present glow of the blood-red neon signs outside of Booth’s windows.

Designer Danielle Preston’s costumes were carefully chosen and fitting to the part (vitally important when clothing is a major motif), down to the the level of detail with the price tags on the filched suits. Lighting designer Xavier Pierce was always right on cue, creating evenings, mornings, and afternoons when called for, and pulling forth just the right hue from the blood-red lights. Fight choreographer Casey Kaleba’s skills shone where they should.

Thanks to sound designer Nick Hernandez, the play’s indirections were given one more avenue of travel. The play included one guitar solo, but its primary score was the background noises of Booth’s apartment complex. Street traffic, barking dogs, sirens, and radios were all heard at various points, audiences had to listen closely to recognize that the crying baby may have been on Booth’s side of the wall.

Genuine laughter or insidious intent? Thanks to Round House Theatres’ excellent work, you’ll need to see “Topdog/Underdog” to decide. If you watch closely, you just might just come away with a better understanding of your own life choices and who you want to be when you’re alone. Park wants us to win, after all.

Running Time: Approximately two hours and 20 minutes with one intermission.

Advisory: Contains a simulated gunshot, adult language, depictions of violence, sexual references, and mature themes.

“Topdog/Underdog” EXTENDED through June 30, 2024 at Round House Theatre, 4545 East-West Highway Bethesda, MD 20814. For more information and to purchase tickets, go online.

Alexandria, VA – Playwright Mary Zimmerman is a national treasure. With two productions currently running in DC theaters and last year’s Helen Hayes Award-winning production of The Notebooks of Leonardo da Vinci at the Shakespeare Theatre Company, her reputation in our area is firmly cemented. I’ll see anything with her name on it. You should too.

In Metamorphoses Zimmerman uses stories from David Slavitt’s translation of the Latin poet Ovid’s masterpiece written in 8 A.D. to form the foundation of this dramedy that puts these ancient myths in modern context describing the history of the world in a hilariously topsy-turvy vision of the classic.

Most of the vignettes here are the familiar cautionary tales of greed, lust, incest…oh let’s just proffer the seven deadly sins and call it a day. Under Director Psalmayene 24’s singularly creative interpretation we find an all-Black ensemble playing multiple parts in a flurry of costume changes to express the multiple roles each actor portrays within the individual vignettes.

Psalmayene has conjured up one of the most explosive openings seen on DC stages. It is so stunning that the audience goes utterly silent. Led by the Water Nymph (Miss Kitty) the entourage parades through the center aisle, tribal dancing, whirling, summoning the Gods with African music as they arrive onstage. There they undergo an a sort of transmogrification – as captured slaves undergoing the Middle Passage from their ancestral lands. Tossed by a tempest at sea, their journey reflects the pain and degradation of a slave market. From that dramatic unveiling, our storytellers find themselves in dire circumstances humorously expressed through costume, character and morphing appearance. Because the actors play multiple parts, I found it tricky to puzzle out who played which character. That’s a testimonial to the extraordinary costume design by Mika Eubanks, who hascreated here some of the most beautiful, zany, over-the-top and imaginative costumes I’ve seen all year.

Imagine the goddess, Iris, sporting a pink Afro with a frilly rainbow-hued and ruffled tutu – another character super fly in full-on glittering gold and white and the morphing of Alcyone (Renee Elizabeth Wilson) who with her beloved husband take the form of birds, reflecting the well-known phrase ‘halcyon days”.

There’s a lot to be said for brevity when it comes to complex themes of love and loss and in these stories, the objective is clear. In each piece we meet the hapless cast of characters and learn of the hot mess they’ve gotten themselves into challenged and complicated by the muse or god positioned on high – in this case upon the balcony. The frailties and passions of mere mortals are highlighted, while the gods, busy spewing their edicts and curses, become fodder for ridicule with the moral of the story revealed after each vision quest.

The choice of Midas (brilliantly played by Jon Hudson Odom) as the opening myth, is a good one, since we all know the tale of the greedy king who wished everything he touched turned to gold unfortunately that included most his beloved daughter (Kalen Robinson). Clad in a green velvet jacket and crown, Midas rues the day he threw over his daughter for the golden touch and goes on a mission to undo the terrible curse. Odom, totally tricked out, returns as Orpheus busting Motown moves to James Brown’s “Get Up (I Feel Like Being a Sex Machine)” and Michael Jackson’s “Wanna Be Startin’ Somethin’”. And, boom! We are laughing our tailfeathers off.

Metamorphoses shows that it is possible to speak of enigmatic things when they are creatively and hilariously interpreted and passionately performed by an ensemble of such high calibre.

Lighting Designer William K. D’Eugenio and Scenic Designer Lawrence E. Moten III have crucial tasks since there are no set changes and no curtains to draw. Along with Sound Designer and Composer Nick Tha 1DA Hernandez, ambiance is key to support the stories. And because the wigs and hair designs are so over the top, I’d be remiss if I didn’t give a shout out to Designer Rueben D. Echoles.

Highly recommended!

With Edwin Brown as Third Man: Phaeton and others; Dejeanette Horne as First Man: Zeus and others; Renea S. Brown as Third Woman: Myrrha and others; Yesenia Iglesias as First Woman: Aphrodite and others; Billie Krishawn as Second Woman: Eurydice and others; Manu Kumasi as Fourth Man: Vertumnus and others; Gerrad Alex Taylor as Fifth Man: Bacchus and others.

Artistic Director, Karen Ann Daniels; Choreographer, Tony Thomas; Original Composer, Willy Schwarz; Sound Designer, Nick Tha 1DA Henrnandez; Props Designer Deb Thomas; Dramaturg, Faedra Chatard Carpenter PhD.

Through June 16 at the Folger Theatre, Folger Shakespeare Library, 201 East Capitol Street, SE, Washington, DC – For tickets and information visit www.folger.edu or call the box office at 202 544-7007.

Round House Theatre revives the devastating, Pulitzer-winning, card-trick psychodrama by Suzan-Lori Parks.

Review by Chris Klimek for the Washington Post June 4, 2024

There’s sibling rivalry, and then there’s the pitched fraternal battle between Lincoln and Booth, the fatefully named brothers at the center of Suzan-Lori Parks’s devastating card-trick psychodrama “Topdog/Underdog.” Had the playwright, who won the Pulitzer Prize for this deceptively rich two-hander, named her characters Cain and Abel, she’d still have captured the tragic inevitability of the thing. But she wouldn’t have the recurring chord of cruel, fundamentally American absurdity that has made this Black hybrid of “Waiting for Godot” and “True West,” first performed in the summer of 2001, one of the most rightly celebrated plays of this young, bloody, cruel and absurd century.

Parks had the peculiar genius to imagine a character that encapsulates the contradictions of our shaky republic: A Black man who performs in whiteface as his namesake, our 16th and most revered president. No, he’s not reciting the second inaugural or the Gettysburg Address; he’s letting wannabe John Wilkes Booths shoot him with blanks dozens of times each day at what’s described merely as “an arcade,” in one of Parks’s surreal flourishes.

“It’s easy work,” Lincoln insists to his little brother, if you can ignore the nesting-doll layers of humiliation baked into it — including the fact he fears losing even this dire gig to a wax dummy. Booth is not at all inclined to overlook those not-so-micro aggressions.

“Topdog/Underdog” isn’t set in any specified time or place, but its insular story of two deeply isolated brothers and roommates has uncannily predicted the air of menacing unreality that now surrounds our public discourse.

Director Jamil Jude’s confident Round House Theatre revival, anchored by nimble and entrancing performances from Ro Boddie and Yao Dogbe as Lincoln and Booth, respectively, harvests every note of humor and pathos from Parks’s immortal script. These brothers were abandoned by their parents at an impressionable age, each given an “inheritance” of $500. Their most prized possession is an album of photos from their distinctly un-idyllic childhood, which Booth, in particular, is given to reminiscing about. He even claims to want to emulate their negligent mom and pop, declaring his ambition to sire many offspring and then leave them to figure things out on their own.

Not that either of them have figured out very much. Booth wants Lincoln to return to his former calling as a cardsharp, taking the same slack-jawed rubes who now line up to shoot him for all the cash they’ve got at three-card monte. Booth even rehearses Lincoln’s fast dealing and faster patter (“Watch me now!”) when he’s home alone, and tries to get his brother to address him as “Three Card.”

Alas, his own sticky fingers are more adept at shoplifting than card-throwing. Despite his childish insistence that a woman named Grace is so gobsmacked by his pilfered prosperity that she’s both consented to unprotected sex and demanded that he marry her, Booth is utterly confounded by the perceived unfairness of the fairer sex. As for Lincoln, his wife left him years ago — then briefly sought solace in Booth’s bed!

They’ve had a rough time of it, these two brothers.

The despair they’re both working overtime to keep at bay is so omnipresent and oppressive that Jude, Boddie and Dogbe must mine every kernel of levity just to keep the enterprise from being too depressing to endure. One of these gags comes early, when Dogbe performs a sort of clown-car variation on a striptease, somehow producing an entire pilfered wardrobe from beneath his oversized parka — not just two complete suits, but two pairs of dress shoes. “I stole, and I stole generously,” he gloats. (The costume designer has dressed Dogbe’s Booth in an old Washington Bullets T-shirt, a welcome local touch.)

Throughout the long evening, the light of a neon sign — one we can’t quite read — suspended outside the window of Meghan Raham’s appropriately dingy set bathes the brothers’ barren home in a hellish crimson cast. The subtextual query beneath each stanza of Parks’s lacerating dialogue is, “Am I my brother’s keeper?” We already know the answer, but it hits with the force of a bullet all the same.

Topdog/Underdog, through June 23 at Round House Theatre. About 2½ hours, including an intermission. roundhousetheatre.org.