Displaying items by tag: David Alan Anderson

Goodman Theatre’s production of Ma Rainey's Black Bottom arrives with the weight of expectation - and under the dual direction of Chuck Smith and Harry Lennix, it does not merely meet that weight, it reshapes it. This is not a revival of August Wilson’s searing text; it is a precise, muscular excavation of its tensions, its music, and its truths.

From the outset, the production leans into what makes Ma Rainey distinct within Wilson’s canon: its compression. There is no sprawling Hill District, no generational sweep - only a room, a day, and a reckoning. Smith and Lennix understand this pressure-cooker structure and allows it to simmer deliberately. The pacing is patient but never indulgent, each pause and eruption calibrated to expose the fractures between the woman, the men and the system that contains them.

At the center stands E. Faye Butler’s Ma Rainey, and “center” is not metaphorical - it is gravitational. Butler embodies what makes Ma singular among Wilson’s women: she is not surviving the system, she is making the system bend to her will. Where characters like Rose in Fences or Bertha in Joe Turner’s Come and Gone endure with moral resilience, Ma operates with economic and performative authority. Butler’s Ma is unapologetically self-possessed, openly sensual in her relationship with Dussie Mae, and fiercely aware of her value. Every demand - a Coca-Cola, a delay, a correction - is less eccentricity than strategy. She dictates the terms, and the room adjusts.

Surrounding her is a cast that functions both as ensemble and as volatile elements in a dramatic equation. Al’Jaleel McGhee’s Levee is electric, restless, and dangerously unmoored. He captures the tragic duality of the character: brilliance tethered to illusion. His performance builds like a slow burn until it detonates, revealing the unresolved trauma and misplaced faith in a system that will never reward him. In contrast, David Alan Anderson’s Cutler is grounded, pragmatic, a man who has learned the cost of survival. Kelvin Roston, Jr.’s Toledo brings intellectual weight, his reflections on Black identity landing with quiet force, while Cedric Young’s Slow Drag occupies the margins with understated authenticity.

The white power structure—embodied by Matt DeCaro’s Sturdyvant and Marc Grapey’s Irvin - is rendered with chilling subtlety. There is no overt villainy here, only the smooth machinery of exploitation. Irvin’s politeness is the point; it is the veneer that makes the system function.

Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom at Goodman Theatre. (L-R) Jabari Khaliq, E. Faye Butler, Kelvin Roston Jr.

Visually, the production is nothing short of exquisite. Linda Buchanan’s set design transforms the stage into a 1920s Chicago recording studio that feels both expansive and suffocating. The inclusion of distinct spaces - the recording area, control room, rehearsal room, even a suggestion of the street - creates a dynamic environment while maintaining the play’s essential confinement. This is a world built for observation and control.

Jared Gooding’s lighting design elevates this world into something almost cinematic. The suggestion of the Chicago Loop’s overhead train is particularly striking, its presence looming like an industrial heartbeat. Gooding uses light not just for visibility but for composition - creating tableaus, isolating tensions, and guiding the audience’s eye with precision.

And then there are Evelyn M. Danner’s costumes, which operate as visual dramaturgy. The color palette tells its own story: Irvin and Sturdyvant in stark black and white, embodiments of rigid power; the band in various shades of brown, signaling labor, reliability, and earthbound existence; and Ma Rainey in a commanding money-green dress, a walking declaration of her worth. Dussie Mae’s yellow flapper dress, accented with green, subtly marks her proximity to that wealth and power. Even Sylvester’s patterned brown attire hints at his connection to Ma’s orbit. Every choice is intentional, every color a statement.

What ultimately distinguishes this production is its understanding of language - not just Wilson’s text, but the music within it. The scenes among the band members crackle with rhythm and lyricism, their banter and arguments forming a kind of blues composition. It is beautiful, but volatile - a powder keg of masculinity, frustration, and deferred dreams.

What Chuck Smith and Harry Lennix achieve is extraordinary. They do not merely stage Ma Rainey's Black Bottom; they orchestrate it, allowing every performance, every design element, every silence to resonate with intention. Nowhere is that more evident than in Levee’s arc, where Al’Jaleel McGhee delivers a performance that simmers with ambition and barely contained rage, his volatility carefully shaped into a slow, inevitable unraveling.

This is direction of the highest order - precise, unflinching, and deeply attuned to the rhythms of Wilson’s language and the weight of his themes. What emerges is not just unforgettable theatre, but necessary theatre: a production that insists we listen more closely, look more deeply, and reckon more honestly with the truths it lays before us.

HIGHLY RECOMMENDED

When: Through May 3

Where: Goodman Theatre, 170 N. Dearborn St.

Tickets: $44-$84

Info: www.goodmantheatre.org

Box Office: 312-443-3800

This review is proudly shared with our friends at www.TheatreInChicago.com. 

We are rarely privy to the forthright conversations traded among the wealthy about class dynamics and privilege. Doubly so when they involve the rarified class of rich, well-borne African Americans.
In Stickfly, playwright Lydia Diamond said she wanted to “write a play that talks about class and class strata within the African American community. I don’t think people think of that very often, and it is fascinating.”

In Diamond’s Stickfly, receiving a stellar production at Writers Theatre, we become a fly on the wall for a combative and contentious family battle, one that veers toward ugly, and delves into family secrets perhaps better left unspoken.

All this makes for a rousing, thought provoking evening, with a beautiful production under the direction of Ron OJ Parsons. Part melodrama, part soap opera, the two acts fly by, as engrossing as a Netflix binge watch.

We meet the LeVay family, who are like any other African American family in many ways, exceptional in that they are very well to do, highly educated and they own property in the elite Edgartown section of Martha’s Vineyard. We learn this property has been in Mrs. LeVay’s family (the Wickhams) for generations, a gift to one of her ancestors. But it’s Joseph LeVay’s money that keeps it up.

The set design (Linda Buchanan) suggests a wealthy, old money lifestyle. There is expensive (including museum-caliber impressionists) artwork on the walls. Outside the kitchen window sailboats ply the Atlantic Ocean. There is a staircase leading up to several bedrooms. The family room is nicely appointed with fine furniture and bookcases. The kitchen has the latest appliances and a fully stocked refrigerator. To the left of the kitchen, a door leads to the back porch and garden, with seating. You can almost feel and hear the seaside.

Class dynamics figures prominently in this excellent production. As the play opens, a young woman, Cheryl (Ayanna Bria Bakari) is preparing the house for guests. She is college bound, but filling in for her mother, the longtime housekeeper who has fallen ill. Cheryl is in some respects an honorary member of the LeVay household, but within limits - owing to her household duties.

The first family member to arrive is Kent (Eric Gerard), a highly educated but meandering writer, along with his fiancée Taylor (Jennifer Latimore) a researching entomologist. Kent tours the property with Taylor, explaining his great great ancestor.

“He was never a slave. He was a shipper. But we don’t talk about that,” Kent says, foreshadowing other matters that we learn have also been unspoken.

Taylor, who comes from a poorer background, is awed and shocked, and intimidated, by the casual wealth of this family. But the gardens make good grounds for her research into insects, referenced by the play's title.

Soon we meet Flip (DiMonte Henning) the misogynistic, arrogant, plastic surgeon, the older brother of Kent. These two men are nothing alike. Where Kent is warm and understanding, Flip is abrasive and smug.

Tensions build and sparks fly when we learn Flip and Taylor had a fling several years ago – but no one else knows about it. Flip also exerts the pressure of class structure pressure on Taylor, who is an exuberant, free spirit.

“You seem to have no social constraints, which concerns me, because you will be my brother’s wife,” Flip says to her.

Joseph LeVay (David Alan Anderson) the family patriarch, arrives without his wife. He seems to be preoccupied, and when questions arise about Mama LeVay’s absence, Joseph quickly puts them to rest, revealing himself as a controlling bully.

Flip announces that his girlfriend is coming – and, notably, that she is Italian. This says a lot about his character. Flip could not introduce just any white girl to his parents, even though her family is as rich and accomplished as the LeVay’s. Her family has a home in tony Kennebunkport, and she looks good on his resume.

Tellingly, Kent says not that he is so in love with her, but that she’s Italian, which makes her exotic. He’s a playboy by his own admission. He’s also his father’s favorite…the reason why becomes clearer as the action unfolds.

When we finally met Kimber (Kayla Raelle Holder) we realize that she is in fact just your average socially conscious WASP. She is nether impressed nor notices the wealth around her - well, except for the housekeeper - but that is no biggie. She is comfortably at home, unlike Taylor, who feels compelled to assist Cheryl with her housekeeping duties.

The first half of Stickfly establishes the tensions among the characters. The fast-paced dialog turns up a notch in the second act, with emotions spinning out of control. Parsons does an excellent job keeping the highly charged production on pace. The actors move about the set, entering and leaving with a precision that looks natural.

By the end of the night you realize you will have weathered emotional storms with six very different people. And these characters are so real, you feel they have studied themselves, and some have even grown, as well. Stickfly is highly recommended. It runs through March 15 at Writers Theatre in Glencoe, IL.