Paradise Blue

B

Things look very promising upon arrival at the Linney Theatre at Signature Center for the final installment of Dominique Morisseau’s (Skeleton Crew, Pipeline) Detroit trilogy. The walls of the theater are covered with vintage posters for jazz concerts. The set by Neil Patel (An Ordinary Muslim; Time and the Conways) evokes the look of a seedy bar in the Black Bottom area of that city in 1949. At one end we see an upstairs rental room perfect in period detail down to the mauve chenille bedspread. Two huge electric PARADISE signs overhang the set, each facing half the audience seated on opposite sides of the stage. A lively burst of jazz plays as the lights dim. We meet each of the colorful characters: Blue (J. Alphonse Nicholson), the bar’s owner and trumpet player; Pumpkin (Kristolyn Lloyd; Dear Evan Hansen, Invisible Thread), Blue’s lover, cook and cleaning woman, who likes to memorize poems; Corn (Keith Randall Smith; The Piano Lesson, Jitney), pianist, widower and longtime friend of Blue’s; P-Sam (Francois Battiste; Prelude to a Kiss, Head of Passes), a young drummer down on his luck; and Silver (Simone Missick), a sultry black widow who rents the upstairs room. Blue’s bar is at the heart of a thriving area of black-owned businesses, threatened by a new mayor who wants to eliminate “blight.” Each of the characters has personal reasons for wanting the bar either to remain open or to close. The characters, mostly richly drawn, would feel right at home in an August Wilson play except for Silver, who seems to have wandered in from a noir film. Skillful director Ruben Santiago-Hudson (Jitney, The Piano Lesson) is in his comfort zone. The period costumes by Clint Ramos (Night Is a Room, Appropriate) are wonderful. Because the production has so much going for it, I am sorry to report that the play does not fully live up to its promise. The plot is not as coherent as it should be. The character of Blue is so relentlessly unsympathetic and devoid of charm that it is hard to care about his fate; I am curious whether another actor could have fared better with the role. Nevertheless, I enjoyed seeing the other first-rate actors making the most of juicy roles. Ms. Lloyd and Mr. Smith are especially fine. It’s not up there with Morisseau’s  Skeleton Crew, but it is still worth seeing. Running time: 2 hours 20 minutes including intermission.

Pipeline

B

Dominique Morisseau (Skeleton Crew) makes an impressive Lincoln Center Theater debut with this wrenching look at our society seen primarily through the eyes of a black teacher and her teenage son. Nya (Karen Pittman; Disgraced) teaches English in a tough urban high school. Her only child, Omari (Namir Smallwood), is at a private boarding school upstate where he has just been involved in a third incident that could get him expelled. The natural concern of a black mother for the safety of her son in a dangerous world is exacerbated by the fact that he is her only child and that her ex-husband Xavier (Morocco Omari) is providing little for the boy except child support. While Xavier has moved on, Nya still has feelings for him. We see Nya in the classroom, teaching an ominous Gwendolyn Brooks poem, “We Real Cool,” that frightens her; in the lunchroom exchanging barbs with Dun (Jaime Lincoln Smith), the security guard whose flirtations she fends off, and commiserating with fellow teacher Laurie (Tasha Lawrence; Good People), who has been losing the battle against student violence; at Omari’s school where she interrogates his Latina girlfriend Jasmine (Heather Velazquez), another fish out of water at the lily-white school, to find out where Omari is; and at home alone, finding solace in cigarettes and liquor. Morisseau does not spell everything out for us. Only the projections between scenes, escalating from images of black students at school to violent students to handcuffed young blacks on a bus, indicate that the title refers to the school-to-prison pipeline too often traveled by black youth. The acting is uniformly strong; my one quibble is that Smallwood looks too old for a secondary student. The characters are vividly drawn. Jasmine and Laurie are such dynamic presences that they almost hijack the play. The elevated, rather poetic style of speech the playwright occasionally turns to has the effect of making the characters sound more alike than they should. There are individual scenes that are wonderful, but they don’t cohere into as satisfying a whole as I would have wished. The set by Matt Saunders with its cinderblock walls, linoleum floor and bright fluorescent lights creates an aptly harsh institutional setting. The costumes by Montana Levi Blanco befit the characters well. The direction by Lileana Blain-Cruz (War; Red Speedo) is unfussy and assured. Although I have some reservations, I found the play well worth seeing. Running time: one hour 25 minutes; no intermission.

Note: The Mitzi E. Newhouse Theater has been refurbished with very comfortable new seats. The space formerly occupied by the coat lockers, whose use was halted by security concerns, is now filled by a colorful attractive mural of Lincoln Center.

Skeleton Crew ***

Dominique Morisseau has, on a smaller scale, done for Detroit what August Wilson did for Pittsburgh — chronicled the lives of some of its African-American residents over the decades. The final play in her Detroit trilogy, now at Atlantic Stage 2, is a workplace drama set in the break room of a failing auto parts plant in 2008 just as the Great Recession hits. An opening radio bulletin raises the question of how the city has fared in the 40 years since the bloody riots of 1968. We meet three workers — the crusty lesbian Faye (Lynda Gravatt), the union rep who is approaching the 30-year mark at work; Dez (Jason Dirden), a hotheaded young man with authority issues who is putting in as much overtime as possible to be able to leave and start his own garage; Shanita (Nikiya Mathis), a very pregnant second-generation worker who takes pride in her work. Their foreman Reggie (Wendell B. Franklin) got his job with Faye’s help and rose through the ranks to low-level management. Faye is secretly facing serious difficulties, some of her own making. Dez has a crush on Shakita, who has troubling dreams. We learn that Reggie’s late mother was the love of Faye’s life. Reggie is torn by divided loyalties. Management has cut back relentlessly. Supplies are disappearing in night-time thefts. The threat of closure hangs over everyone. The situations are involving and the dialogue is lively. Morisseau’s characters, brought to life by a superb cast, are easy to care about. At its best moments, it recalls August Wilson’s work. The play is greatly assisted by a first-rate production directed by Ruben Santiago-Hudson. Michael Carnahan’s set creates a believable factory break room down to the smallest detail. Paul Tazewell’s costumes are excellent — Faye’s sequined Obama jacket speaks volumes. Rui Rita’s lighting design sets the right mood. The sound design by Robert Kaplowitz is supplemented by original songs by Jimmy “J.Keys” Keys. The breaks between scenes are marked by dance sequences choreographed and performed by Adesola Osakalumi that capture the repetitive, robotic nature of the work. Some of these interludes are punctuated by uncredited projections of the factory floor, the final one showing robots at work. I hope a brave producer mounts Morisseau’s complete trilogy soon. Running time: one hour 50 minutes including intermission.