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| HERO SETS THE UNION SOLDIER FREE (The Public Theater) |
The plays, in essence, are cut from the same cloth. In one thematic stroke, Angels in America chronicles the collapse of the oppressive, homophobic, and hetero-normative institutions of The Cold War. Likewise, Parks' Father Comes Home From the Wars examines how, under the guise of fighting wars, racial oppression became systemized and engrained in the American consciousness. Kushner and Parks are interested in similar things, and bring their own experience as minorities - Kushner being a gay Jew, Parks a black woman - to bear on the storytelling. But Parks has a lot working against her in this first installment which, in various moments, is powerfully-written and well-acted, but suffers through it's inability to cohere as a dramatic work in any sense - it's not a standalone play. It doesn't quite work as a series of vignettes, or as something you might be interested in tracking throughout the course of.
Parks's language is beautiful, spoken eloquently by the actors, and the drama moves a long at a steady pace. But the slave narrative of Hero/Ulysses doesn't add another dimension to the slave narrative - 12 Years a Slave touched on every corner of the slave experience in way that remains unparalleled in dramatic complexity. Father Comes Home From the Wars, Parts 1, 2 and 3 - while adding weight to the conversation on how slavery worked - stands, really, as an addendum to how our society looks at race, gender and oppression. August Wilson's Pittsburg Cycle plays at their best stood alone as quintessential explorations of the African American experience. Oscar Wilde said, "Our one duty to history is to rewrite it." Parks's revision, while compelling, doesn't effectively cohere. Coherence is essential to storytelling, to the narrative of history, and the shows main fault is that it fragments the slave-narrative at the expense of our characters.
Parks' play has received unanimous praise from critics yet the criticism doesn't deal with how this play works as a whole. They seem to trust her vision in a way that's unjustified and, in actuality, dilutes what the play actually does well. This first installment has stellar moments of acting, writing and directing. But I don't quite get how you can leave Park's play without feeling a little let down. A friend told me once he always has lower narrative expectations when he goes to see a play. I don't, and maybe that's why I can't help but looking at this play as a whole as a bit of a let-down.
The most contrived aspect of this play is its insistence on making itself the literary predecessor of Homer’s Odyssey with various characters taking names from the famous epic. Protagonist “Hero/Ulysses” is Odysseus; “Penny,” Hero's lover, is Penelope; rival “Homer” is, well, Homer; the Oldest Old Man, Hero's father figure, is “Tiresias” and our Hero's dog is, cleverly, “Odd-See.”
The Odyssey connection is clear as a meditation on the journey one must undertake to escape slavery – not only the slavery imposed by the master, but the slavery imposed by the self. This works to contextualize the idea of an Odyssey taking place over one and half-centuries of history. But, frankly, it's a bit on the nose and not really convincing, to the point where it feels necessary. If anything, there are more echoes of Sophocles’ Oedipus Rex than anything else: our protagonist, Hero, is blind to his own naiveté about his “condition” and to the realities of Southern racial hierarchies. He doesn’t know how to free himself from the shackles that bind him, even as he holds a copy of the Emancipation Proclamation in his hands at the end of the play as proof as his freedom. He's unaware to the point where he doesn't recognize how he's enslaving Penny by bringing home a new wife once the Civil War has ended and he gives her a silver spade to tend to the garden to be shared between the three of them. This comes about in Hero because of one major flaw in his character: he empathizes more with those that enslave him than with fellow slaves, and he wants to assimilate into a system of oppression rather than envision the possibility of an egalitarian society for everyone. That's the dramatic centerpiece of the play, and which makes seeing it The Public Theater most worth it; Sterling K. Brown’s performance will genuinely move you, and, no matter where you are in this small, intimate space, you’ll feel like you’re right there with him.
But, much like Hero has a fatal flaw, so does this play which hinders my ability to call this a true, quality work. First, however, let's look at what works.
Part One progresses without a hitch. We open up on a cast of characters – and
yes, they are stand-ins for a Greek chorus – casting bets on whether Hero is going to go off to fight in the war with his Confederate master or stay home with his
love interest, Penny (Jenny Jules, radiant). The only set piece on the stage is a log-cabin, small and tightly compact, which is impressive given the expertise the actors have at painting this world in detail. Yet there's a modernity to it all which adds a refreshing familiarity. In many instances, Park's dialogue re-appropriates vernacular phrases
like “Snap,” “Dayum,” and “Gurl” to infuse each character's speech patterns a light
contemporary twang, while remaining true to the essential style of Southern speak. The Oldest Old Man wears Crocs as well, further creating that “modern” ambiance and synthesizing some humor into it. The "Greek Chorus" – Julian Rozzen Jr., Tony Patano, Jacob
Ming-Trent, and Peter Jay Fernandez – work splendidly off of one another, really
creating and inhabiting the world with intense force and vitality. The acting
is consistently authentic all around.
The first play – or act? - is slow moving, but it's
lyrical, it takes its time, it allows you to peer into this intense, dramatic
moment where Hero must decide whether to serve his Confederate master or
whether to stay behind and defy him. Soon it is revealed that Hero ratted out Homer (Jeremie Harris) when he was
escaping slavery as a way to earn his own freedom. Hero, to add insult to injury, was forced by the master to cut off Homer's foot (Homer, oddly enough, can walk with a prosthetic leg which I don't think would have been possible back then, but I doubt you'll linger on that question for long). “Trust is all we have,” the chorus reminds at this realization, and Hero - no longer being able to dub himself as a part of this society - embarks off to the war. And did I mention this is all, actually, quite funny? In fact, Father is often a flat-out riot; Parks is splendidly adept with comedy.
Act Two is the most powerful and the most
stand-alone aspect of the production. The Colonel of the rebel Confederate Army (Ken Marks, fantastic)
is camping on a hillside with his slave, Hero. In a wooden cage, we have Smith,
a Captive Union Soldier of the Kansas Colored Infantry Battalion. The balance
of power these characters engage is in fascinating as they explore, Yankee to Southerner, the ethical boundaries of ownership. At one point, Hero is
challenging the Colonel’s decision to prize him at $800 – he wants to be worth
a thousand – so the Colonel decides to place him on a pedestal, auction-block
style, and test his physical attributes. “Open your mouth,” he tells him. Then
he asks him to strip naked. Hero refuses. And when he looks at him and defies his “Boss-Man,” he gets slapped in the face with a cane. Here’s a scene,
a moment, which pretty much defines the play. It's dramatically potent, hard to even fog out the image. In a stunning moment of
manipulation, the Colonel laments that if Hero were to leave him, he would feel like he
would be reliving the death of his only son. The centrifugal force of this act, however, lies in the relationship between the Infantryman and Hero. It's revealed the Yankee is actually of African-blood - which explains why he's leading the infantry - and they engage in a sprawling dialogue on freedom. But Hero - wanting to create his freedom through honest means, not to "steal himself" from his master - rejects the Yankee's pleas to go North with him. Hero is convinced, unlike the audience, that his master will free him once the war is over. It's heartbreaking, and is representative of Parks' play at it's best: sparse in exposition, gutsy enough to throw you into the action.
The Third Act is where we fall into a bit of trouble. It's not dramatically uninteresting, though such qualifiers are not necessarily the barometers of quality. Hero, essentially, completely shifts gears; therefore, becomes a completely different play even as it sets to conclude what came before it. There remains some terrific stuff, but its odd change of tone is one I couldn't really really buying into. Here's the jist: Runaway slaves (different characters, same actors and a similar chorus), dressed in modern garb, have landed at Hero's home and are ready to get the hell out of the South. Penny, in the absence of Hero, takes on Homer as her lover. The dog Odd-See (Jacob Ming-Trent, hilarious), gone missing back in Act 1, delivers a monologue about how the Colonel died and how Hero is, in fact and to Penny and Homer's surprise, returning home from the wars. It’s a funny albeit overlong aside, and it replaces substance for humor in a rare instance of laziness. Sparsity and gutsy writing, in this act, is replaced by conventionality under the guise of theatrical conventions.
Then enters Hero. And oh, how happy Penelope is that her love has returned! Homer was temporary, a fixture to get through a rough spot, but now that Hero has returned, Penny can rest assured that she has him and they have each other. But, in total deviance from the play's backbone, Hero – naming himself Ulysses now, after the General – has taken on a new wife. But, even worse, he’s asking Penny if she’ll stay with him, plant flowers with a new spade he brought from the North, and sleep separately from Homer and his bride. Maybe Hero met up with a few Mormons and learned the trade of polygamy out there? It's not explainedwhy Hero does what he does. Does there need to be explanation? Probably not. It works in the sense that Parks shifts point-of-views to make us feel great sympathy for Penny, and give her more depth as a character in the work.
So now, readers, you understand the dilemma: the play becomes about Penny escaping her misogynistic, prick of a husband. Hero remains blind, unaware of how ironic it is that he’s asking Penny to be his – dare I say it – slave. Parks complicates the idea of internalized slavery in an interesting way, but leaves you somewhat unsatisfied, unable to piece together that cathartic ending plays are meant to elicit. As a series of vignettes, she couldn’t have chosen a worse one to close on. If this is a play made of moments, the Third Act throws everything at you in a way that resembles a soap-opera rather than serious, thoughtful drama. And really, that's main criticism. There were great scenes, but I fell under the trap of trusting Parks to deliver on her promise for consistency - because, that's the compact a writer makes with her audience. Instead, we’re left with an empty-feeling, because the story didn’t know itself in the way we thought it did and ultimately couldn’t deliver a comprehensive conclusion. And, ironically enough, that's the real tragedy.
Grade: B
Now playing at the Public Theatre.
The Third Act is where we fall into a bit of trouble. It's not dramatically uninteresting, though such qualifiers are not necessarily the barometers of quality. Hero, essentially, completely shifts gears; therefore, becomes a completely different play even as it sets to conclude what came before it. There remains some terrific stuff, but its odd change of tone is one I couldn't really really buying into. Here's the jist: Runaway slaves (different characters, same actors and a similar chorus), dressed in modern garb, have landed at Hero's home and are ready to get the hell out of the South. Penny, in the absence of Hero, takes on Homer as her lover. The dog Odd-See (Jacob Ming-Trent, hilarious), gone missing back in Act 1, delivers a monologue about how the Colonel died and how Hero is, in fact and to Penny and Homer's surprise, returning home from the wars. It’s a funny albeit overlong aside, and it replaces substance for humor in a rare instance of laziness. Sparsity and gutsy writing, in this act, is replaced by conventionality under the guise of theatrical conventions.
Then enters Hero. And oh, how happy Penelope is that her love has returned! Homer was temporary, a fixture to get through a rough spot, but now that Hero has returned, Penny can rest assured that she has him and they have each other. But, in total deviance from the play's backbone, Hero – naming himself Ulysses now, after the General – has taken on a new wife. But, even worse, he’s asking Penny if she’ll stay with him, plant flowers with a new spade he brought from the North, and sleep separately from Homer and his bride. Maybe Hero met up with a few Mormons and learned the trade of polygamy out there? It's not explainedwhy Hero does what he does. Does there need to be explanation? Probably not. It works in the sense that Parks shifts point-of-views to make us feel great sympathy for Penny, and give her more depth as a character in the work.
So now, readers, you understand the dilemma: the play becomes about Penny escaping her misogynistic, prick of a husband. Hero remains blind, unaware of how ironic it is that he’s asking Penny to be his – dare I say it – slave. Parks complicates the idea of internalized slavery in an interesting way, but leaves you somewhat unsatisfied, unable to piece together that cathartic ending plays are meant to elicit. As a series of vignettes, she couldn’t have chosen a worse one to close on. If this is a play made of moments, the Third Act throws everything at you in a way that resembles a soap-opera rather than serious, thoughtful drama. And really, that's main criticism. There were great scenes, but I fell under the trap of trusting Parks to deliver on her promise for consistency - because, that's the compact a writer makes with her audience. Instead, we’re left with an empty-feeling, because the story didn’t know itself in the way we thought it did and ultimately couldn’t deliver a comprehensive conclusion. And, ironically enough, that's the real tragedy.
Grade: B
Now playing at the Public Theatre.