The House That Will Not Stand

C+

After runs in Berkeley, New Haven, Chicago and London, this play by Marcus Gardley (“The Chi”) has arrived at New York Theatre Workshop. The playwright set himself an ambitious challenge, taking characters and situations from Garcia Lorca’s The House of Bernarda Alba and overlaying them with a story about the status of black women in New Orleans shortly after the Louisiana Purchase. Once again there is a house of women in mourning with a fierce mother ruling over frustrated daughters —Agnès (Nedra McClyde; Marvin’s Room), Odette (Joniece Abbott-Pratt; u/s Eclipsed) and Maude Lynn (Juliana Canfield; “Succession”)— with an iron hand. There is someone hidden away in the attic, this time the mother’s possibly mad sister, Marie Josephine (Michelle Wilson; Sweat). And there is rivalry among the daughters over a man. The corpse lying surrounded by flowers in the parlor is the father of the three daughters, but not the husband of their mother Beartrice (Lynda Gravatt; Skeleton Crew). He is Lazare Albans, a married wealthy white man whose long-term common-law relationship with Beartrice made her the wealthiest free woman of color in New Orleans, with a fine house to show for it. The institution that permitted such interracial relationships, called plaçage, had been common throughout the French and Spanish Caribbean, but was now threatened by United States laws. Makeda (Harriet D. Foy; Amelie), the house servant who looks after mother and daughters, is a slave who has been promised her freedom upon her master’s demise. We also meet La Veuve (Marie Thomas; Don’t Bother Me I Can’t Cope), a neighbor with a longtime grudge against Beartrice. Two of the daughters want to attend the masked ball where quadroons and prospective white beaus meet and arrange relationships, but Beartrice is unalterably opposed as she considers plaçage little better than slavery, especially under new US laws. She is also confronted with a threat to retaining her house and her social position. Melodrama ensues. The play is stuffed, perhaps overstuffed, with issues — racism, skin colorism, class consciousness, empowering women, slavery, voodoo, ghosts, insanity, honoring African roots. It’s a lot to juggle and the playwright occasionally missteps. The dialogue is sometimes comic, sometimes poetic. The quality of the acting is frustratingly uneven. Ms. Foy gives an electric performance as Makeda. The usually reliable Ms. Gravatt repeatedly stumbled over her lines. Ms. Thomas is wickedly funny. The actresses playing the daughters and the aunt imbue each with individuality. Adam Rigg’s (Actually) set design of an elegant southern home with tall shuttered windows and crystal chandeliers is quite attractive, as are the period costumes by Montana Levi Blanco (Fairview, Red Speedo). Lileana Blain-Cruz’s (Pipeline, War) direction shows a comfortable grip on the material. While I found it sporadically involving, I left somewhat baffled and disappointed. The reaction from most of the audience was extremely enthusiastic. Running time: two hours ten minutes including intermission.

This Flat Earth

C+

Ever since I saw Milk Like Sugar in 2011, I have found almost every play that Tony-winner Rebecca Taichman has directed in New York, including Stage Kiss, The Oldest Boy, Familiar, Indecent, How To Transcend a Happy Marriage, Time and the Conways, and School Girls to be a worthwhile experience. Furthermore, the two plays by Lindsey Ferrentino that I had seen — Ugly Lies the Bone and Amy (or Andy) and the Orphans — showed great promise. Therefore, I approached this timely play, now in previews at Playwrights Horizons, with high expectations. I was disappointed. From the very first moment, I didn’t buy into it. Julie (Ella Kennedy Davis) is a 12-year-old with symptoms of PTSD after surviving a shooting at her school. Even for someone who can’t afford a cellphone, she seems remarkably naive and uninformed. Would someone her age really believe that she could save her allowance for a trip to Japan to get a boob job or be shocked to learn that there had been other school shootings? Her mother died in childbirth, so she has been raised by her good-natured but feckless father Dan (Lucas Papaelias; Once), a failed comedian forced to take a low-paying job at the water works. Her shy best friend Zander (Ian Saint-Germain) really wants to be her boyfriend. Their upstairs neighbor Cloris (Lynda Gravatt; Skeleton Crew, King Hedley II) is a retired cellist who likes to play LPs of the classical music she can no longer perform. That music is played by an offstage cellist (Christine H. Kim). Lisa (Cassie Beck; The Humans, The Whale), the grieving mother of a murdered girl, is trying to find a way to get on with her life. The fact that Dan has bought his daughter clothes that Lisa has donated to Goodwill illustrates the difference in the economic situation of the two families. To give Julie a chance at a better education, Dan has bent the rules. When Lisa inadvertently discovers his misstep, there is a crisis. Julie must face the reality that adults are not really able to fix everything. She bonds with Cloris, who has a long poetic monologue predicting Julie’s future. The topics of gun violence and income inequality could hardly be more relevant and the idea that music has the power to comfort is appealing. Somehow, it just did not come together for me. The level of acting varies, with Cassie Beck and Lynda Gravatt standing out. Dane Laffrey’s (Rancho Viejo, The Christians) awkward two-level set is deliberately sparsely furnished. Paloma Young’s (Time and the Conways, Lobby Hero) costumes are apt. Rebecca Taichman’s direction hits all the right notes, but the play itself needs a tuning. Running time: 90 minutes, no intermission.

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.