Penumbra's The White Card is a Must See

White people especially need to prioritize attending this gripping drama depicting the devastation caused by microaggressions

Photo courtesy of the Penumbra

It doesn't happen too often, but once in a while I witness a piece of theater that directly reflects some of my experiences and I visibly cringe.

The White Card, now showing at the Penumbra Theatre, is just such a show - and man, did I cringe HARD. Authored by the magnificently talented author Claudia Rankine (if you haven't yet read Citizen, her unmissable treatise on police brutality published by Minneapolis-based Graywolf Press - RUN, don't walk to get it), The White Card peels back the layers of privilege, ignorance and internalized racism that runs throughout the black-white dynamic in America today into an uncomfortable exposé of what is wrong with simply resting on good intentions and armchair activism.

Photo courtesy of the Penumbra

The entire play takes place in the stylish living room of a very wealthy couple, Charles and Virginia, who are famous art collectors. Their art dealer Eric connects them with a young black female artist and rising star, Charlotte, as she completes an eagerly awaited new photography collection. Upon arrival, Charlotte uneasily contemplates the couple's inimitable private art collection, most of which features daring, expensive, rare work by black artists exposing violence they experienced in American society. She reveals that her coming work is a look into the unseen devastation of the Charleston church shooting, instantly exciting the eager collectors.

Charles and Virginia's liberal activist son Alex crashes the dinner party halfway through, essentially dropping a lit Molotov cocktail into an already tense emotional environment. Many unsavory details about the source of Charles' wealth and Virginia's understanding of life outside of her white bubble are revealed in explosive fights, causing Charlotte to experience her own identity crisis. Who is her art really for? Does intention negate impact? By making black suffering the focus of her work, has she fetishized it into something unrecognizable and inhuman? The play closes on a reveal of Charlotte's next project, which is takes a completely different approach to the problem she initially set out to solve.

Photo courtesy of the Penumbra

This cast is tight, and bravo for their steadfast portrayals of nefarious characters who can't have been pleasant to portray. Bill McCallum brings layers to the role of Charles, and I think he's the character who will singlehandedly feel the most familiar to audiences. Michelle O'Neill is viciously brilliant as Virginia, with a whiplash delivery that had several audience members appearing visibly struck. Jay Owen Eisenberg is the perfect choice for Alex, shining a mirror on all well-intentioned activists. John Catron snugly wears the social climbing Eric's role, truly defining the rationale against the #notallmen movement through his performance. And Lynnette R. Freeman brings heartbreak and hope to her role of Charlotte; she is a strong, new-to-me anchor in the storm of this show, the blazing arrow pointing out the effects of microaggression to all of us. It's a brilliant cohort, and I appreciate the hard work they put in on a tough script.

Tavin Wilks brings a searingly clear vision to his role as director, and it's thanks to his straightforward vision that the layers of The White Card can unfold. Chelsea M. Warren's gleaming, chic scenic design looks plucked straight out of a Vogue spread, and it's an appropriately blank canvas for the gruesome dialogue to unfold within. Marcus Dilliard's clean lighting design makes the most of Warren's bright staging, as do Kathy Maxwell's impactful projection designs. Mathew LeFebvre's costume design is equally stylish, luxe and comfortable; once again I coveted several of the pieces he chose. And special note to Abbee Warmboe's carefully selected properties design, the well-intentioned elements of which provide critical context to The White Card's overall undertones.

Photo courtesy of the Penumbra

There are several reasons The White Card feels like a surprising choice for an African American-focused theater to produce during Black History Month, chief among them that all but one of the cast members is white. I think, however, that therein lies the brilliance of the plot overall. What does blackness, especially the experience of being black in America, really mean without whiteness? You can't have one without the other. We should all be familiar by now with the endlessly violent suffering and trauma porn of the African American experience that is splayed across television and social media feeds daily. But at which hands does that suffering occur? Where is the root of that adversity? Why don't we ever seem to see that part, unless it's the end of a police officer's gun (notoriously rarely showing a face)?

Maybe because, as The White Card brilliantly depicts, modern racism takes more subtly insidious forms than that which we've been trained to identify. A burning cross, white hood or lynch knot are rare to see these days. But when talking about people of color, do you ever notice yourself utilizing a language of "us vs. them"? As a white person, are the only times you engage with black people when they are serving you (whether as actual maids or hired help, or as janitors or servers or baristas)? Do you purposely, meaningfully seek out stories about black people that are positive, violence-free and hopeful - or is the extent of your engagement with news stories highlighting poverty, drugs and violence? Do you call out the color of skin or texture of hair on a black person while never mentioning it with your non-black compatriots, especially when in mixed company? Have you ever said or heard any of the things on this list?

Photo courtesy of the Penumbra

The trouble is, not everything I just listed can seem like an offense, and to be clear: I don't mean this review to become a preachy treatise. I raise my hand here as a transgressor in many of these ways; I constantly seek to un-learn the internalized language, habits and thought processes that inflict such microaggressions on my fellow citizens of color. The endless amount of irony of sitting as a white reviewer in an almost all white audience that was audibly gasping throughout The White Card only to drive back to our cozy safe homes and punch out a bunch of preachy messages about race on social media was not lost on me for a second.

And that discomfort I experienced, the mental dissonance, is the reason why The White Card is a must see for white audiences for me. In the hundreds of plays I have seen over the years, almost always with audiences who are overwhelmingly white, it is exceedingly rare that I have seen a play so effectively turn the gaze back upon us. How did we get here? What layers of privilege have allowed us access to the arts? What are we doing - actually, actively doing - to solve the problems we proclaim to identify with so severely? Like Charles and Virginia and Alex, are we really just indulging in trauma porn, or are we meaningfully making the world more equitable? I touched on some of these thoughts in my review of West Side Story a couple years ago, but they remain as (if not more) relevant than ever.

Photo courtesy of the Penumbra

So in honor of the enduring strength and perseverance of the black community and the sea of work that still needs to be accomplished among my own white-skinned compatriots, please, please go watch The White Card. Non-white audiences will find a lot to like here as well I'm sure - the performances are excellent, the set is beautiful, and I'm sure a lot of the subject matter will feel at least tangentially familiar - but those of us who are privileged enough to see a lot of theater and have discretionary income for the arts owe it to society to turn unflinchingly towards that which will make us better, even (perhaps especially) if it makes us intensely uncomfortable first. Claudia Rankine's intimately detailed The White Card is just such a work. Click here for more information or to buy tickets before The White Card closes on March 8. I leave you with these words from Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.'s Letter From a Birmingham Jail:

"First, I must confess that over the last few years I have been gravely disappointed with the white moderate. I have almost reached the regrettable conclusion that the Negro's great stumbling block in the stride toward freedom is not the White Citizen's Council-er or the Ku Klux Klanner, but the white moderate who is more devoted to "order" than to justice; who prefers a negative peace which is the absence of tension to a positive peace which is the presence of justice; who constantly says "I agree with you in the goal you seek, but I can't agree with your methods of direct action;" who paternalistically feels he can set the timetable for another man's freedom; who lives by the myth of time and who constantly advises the Negro to wait until a "more convenient season."

Shallow understanding from people of goodwill is more frustrating than absolute misunderstanding from people of ill will. Lukewarm acceptance is much more bewildering than outright rejection."

Pipeline is a Devastating Indictment of Our Educational System

Is it the "kids these days" ... or is it the grownups? 

Photo courtesy of Penumbra. 

What would you do to give your child the best chance in life?

Would you move to a new city? Pay for a private school education? Work extra shifts so you can afford to enroll them in extracurriculars? Leave an abusive or destructive relationship to model a safer, happier life?  Engage them in social activism?

There are a lot of things parents try to give their kids a leg up, but the truth is that a lot of a child's success has to do with kids themselves and variables outside of a parents' control. Some children thrive in a traditional academic environment and others need a more abstract, hands-on approach (helloooo Montessori). Some are self starters and others need firmer guidance. Some are social butterflies and some thrive when they're on their own.

So what do you do if your kid is "othered"? What do you do if your kid is underfunded? What do you do if your kid is unseen, or even worse, is seen as the "only" of their kind?

Those are some of the questions asked in the recently closed play Pipeline at Penumbra Theatre Company. I am not sure how I missed the opening in early October, but I sorely regret seeing it so late in the run (and therefore being unable to spread the word to others). A new script penned by up and coming theatrical darling Dominique Morisseau, Pipeline examines what happens to kids presented with a fraught educational dichotomy: attend an underfunded, underperforming, sometimes dangerous school where the student body looks like you; or move away from your community to attend a more elite institution where you will never quite be like the other students.

It's a much harder dilemma to solve than one might think, and it was powerfully and emotionally portrayed here by Kory Pullam as the title character Omari, a teen student at an elite school who runs away after a confrontation with a teacher. His mother Nya, a teacher herself (played movingly by Erika LaVonn), has been raising Omari on her own for several years and has no idea how to find or help him. It's not the first disciplinary action he's incurred at the school. Nya would like to have him attend the school she teaches at despite its flaws, but Omari's father Xavier (I saw understudy AJ Friday at my performance, and he played it quite cerebral), who is in a much better economic situation, patently disagrees. Orbiting this molten core are Omari's girlfriend Jasmine (a spot on Kiara Jackson); the security guard Dun who has a secret connection to Nya (a magnetic Darius Dotch); and a very complex white teacher Laurie (strongly portrayed by Melanie Wehrmacher).

Although technically an accessory to the story, Laurie was a very interesting character for me as something of a foil to Omari, despite the fact that they never had scenes together. I come from a long line of public school teachers who have taught in majority-white school populations, and although they love their jobs they universally agree that between shrinking budgets, ignorant administrations and the rapidly changing behavior of students, the profession just ain't what it used to be. I recognized a lot of conversations I've overheard those family members say come through Laurie's mouth (although their observations were much less crude). That said, it's impossible to view Laurie without the lens of her racial power, and you're left consistently uneasy with her actions despite understanding them. On paper is she right? Maybe. But does she really understand what her kids are going through day to day? Is she the best person to be guiding them through some very difficult problems? Does she really know what's best for them? Doubtful.

So what does a mother like Nya tell a son like Omari when he hits a teacher like Laurie? Teens can't be right all the time, after all, and violence isn't a solution to your problems. But was Omari wrong in feeling targeted by his teacher? How does an isolated student adequately protect themselves from a teacher who has the upper hand on race, class, and professional authority? The fact that we can ask such complicated questions is a testament to this dynamic cast, who hit a wide range of tough emotions across the spectrum of the show. This is clearly a story they wanted to tell, deeply and richly, and it showed throughout the performance.

School integration has become an exceedingly hot topic of late, but no one seems to have the answers. Are students of color safe in environments when the vast majority of their teachers and fellow students are mostly white? Do we return to an updated version of "separate but equal"? What if we start integrating white students into schools where they'd be the minority, other than placing the burden on students of color? Perhaps most importantly: what if we stopped tying the quality of a child's education to property values in the neighborhood they happen to live in, and instead paid the same amount to educate all kids regardless of where they live?

These are really hard questions, and their answers matter. The achievement gap between students of color and white students is yawning wider every year, especially in places like Minnesota. I'm not sure that Pipeline provided any answers to the problem, but it did provide a vital context (especially for audience members new to this subject) that moved the problem from the ivory tower directly into our laps. This isn't just a question of improving test scores; it's a failure that can have dire consequences on a child's chance at attending a good college, getting an economically supportive job, buying a home, or even going to jail. I'm grateful for playwrights like Morisseau who insist on focusing our gaze on the plight of students desperately trying to navigate impossible circumstances and the parents and teachers who don't have answers either. I hope we find a more equitable way to educate our children. The world will need all of them if we're going to make it through the next few decades.

Pipeline is sadly closed, but please head to the Penumbra's website anyway (click here) to learn more about their upcoming plays. Penumbra is a consistent local favorite of mine, and their work is vital for telling stories that might otherwise go unheard. And if the subject of school integration, the achievement gap, the school to prison pipeline, and educational justice interests you, please read this excellent Washington Post article about a school system in Ohio currently grappling with this very issue. It's beautifully written and provides further detail about how these problems have been approached and what might work in the future.

The Brothers Paranormal is a Thrilling Nail-Biter

Although not my preferred genre, horror really seems to be having a moment these days. 

Thanks to brilliant filmmakers like Jordan Peele (Get Out, Us) and Ryan Murphy (American Horror Story), horror is becoming a nuanced, complex genre that many people share a love of. More than many genres it is a group fan effort, with people taking whole friend groups or hosting viewing parties to dissect the latest and greatest. 

That said, horror is not a genre often seen on stage. There are likely many reasons for this, but it makes those who do attempt productions stand out in the crowd. The Brothers Paranormal, a blended production equally co-produced by Penumbra Theatre and Theater Mu, is an excellent addition to this group and a true original in more ways than one. 

The Brothers Paranormal tells the story of two Thai brothers, Max and Visarut, as they make their first home site visit for their fledgling business investigating ghostly paranormal activity. Delia, a transplant from New Orleans, is terrified as she describes seeing an angry Asian woman who she is certain is a ghost. Thinking they are about to earn some easy cash, Max and Visarut immediately dispatch to Delia's home, where they meet her husband Felix and learn many unsettling details about the case. I don't want to reveal any more of the plot here because there are many important, unnerving surprises in this nail-biter of a script; instead, I'll just say that even the most jaded, experienced theater goer is likely to find plot twists here that they didn't expect, and it is a really exciting live experience. 

One of the unusual things about this show is that it truly blends different cultures (in this case Thai immigrant and African American), making both greater than the sum of their parts by their contrast. There were nuggets of cultural information and history tucked throughout the script that I didn't know before, and in addition to the thrilling action I was delighted to have learned a lot of new things by the end of the show. It helps that The Brothers Paranormal is perfectly cast, with a rock-solid group that brings so much nuance to their acting. Perennial favorite Regina Marie Williams is magnificent as Delia, making the ghostly visions totally believable. Sherwin Resurreccion is tenderly emotive as Max and brings a real depth to his role, leaving many of us teary-eyed on more than one occasion. Kurt Kwan brings necessary levity as Visarut, and James Craven is powerful as the concerned husband Felix. Michelle de Joya is positively terrifying as Jai (you'll know what I mean); hats off to her serious physicality. And the standout was new-to-me Leslie Ishii as Max and Visarut's mother Tasanee; Ishii was a warm, mysterious presence throughout the show, and her story was the most profound for me. I'd love to see her stay in the Twin Cities to work with more companies in the future. 

The set, designed by Vicki Smith, bears many hallmarks of Penumbra's recent shift in vision, with small but expertly crafted dioramas that hold all sorts of surprising, secret special effects. Combined with Mathew LeFebvre's simple costume design, we are able to stay focused on the tiny details that alert us to paranormal presence, and several are real wowzers. Karin Olson and Scott Edwards play several tricks through their respective lighting and sound design that had me on the edge of my seat, and Ruth Coughlin Lenkowski's dialect coaching provided nuanced characterizations for each generation of character in the show. Hats off overall to the direction from Lou Bellamy and assistant direction from Sun Mee Chomet; their clear vision provides a seamless integration of two very different companies, and this excellent production is better for both of their involvement. 

The Brothers Paranormal is a significant performance for several reasons. It's one of the best live horror shows I've seen on stage, anywhere; it combines two powerhouse but very different companies and provides a template for how to produce more integrated work in the future (which I surely hope to see); and it also marks by far the most ambitious outing for Theater Mu since the abrupt departure of their long-term artistic director, Randy Reyes. Bringing in Sun Mee Chomet to lead Theater Mu's portion of the production was an inspired choice and shows that Theater Mu is going to stay a strong presence in #tctheater regardless of the unexpected changes. I am very excited to see where Theater Mu's leadership search finally ends up, and if The Brothers Paranormal is any indication we have great things to expect in the future. 

If you're on the fence because of content, know that I loved this production despite being a person who hates being scared. It's a gripping and beautifully acted drama starring some of our finest local actors, and there's not a bad seat in the house to see the really special production design. I highly recommend readers check this out; for more information or to buy your tickets, click on this link. 

"benevolence" Will Blow You Over

What did you do on Valentine's Day? 

Photo courtesy of the Penumbra

The holiday seems to be one that you love or love to hate. As for myself, I could swing either way - there is no denying that the entire day is set up to allow corporations to make far more profit than is justifiable off of markups on flowers, cards, candies, and all sorts of otherwise annually available goods. That said, I also fully believe in the power of stating your love out loud, and it's not a bad thing to formalize the process of doing so.

While other people were out wining and dining and Netflix and chilling last night, my partner and I headed to the Penumbra for benevolence, the next play in their Emmett Till series (we keep it light in our house, no?). We knew we were in for a powerful few hours of theater, but little did we realize just how powerful it would be.

Photo courtesy of the Penumbra

benevolence tells the stories of two women at the periphery of Emmett Till's death. The first act is from the perspective of Caroline Bryant, the white woman who started it all - by lying that Till came on to her, a lie that got a 14 year old black boy brutally murdered in the dark of night - and why she did it. It manages to walk the razor thin line of being complex and nuanced without being sympathetic, and there are several disturbing details released about Caroline Bryant's life that make Till's story all the sadder for their revelation. Act two focuses on the life and family of Beulah Melton, a black woman trying to survive the Mississippi Delta in the wake of Till's death. Melton's husband Clinton witnesses Till's corpse shortly before he is "disappeared" into the bayou; his inability to stay silent eventually costs his and Beulah's lives.

Photo courtesy of the Penumbra

A tight, expert cast provides a fully fledged picture of the events of Till's death, and they do an excellent job of grounding this very serious subject matter. Sara Marsh is brilliant as Caroline Bryant. Her measured, severe performance is filled with pain and nuance; it can't be easy to play such an evil character, and I salute Marsh for her fantastic execution. She is well matched with the powerful, transcendent Dame-Jasmine Hughes as Beulah Melton. Every time I see Hughes I think she can't possibly top herself and then she does. In benevolence Hughes displays a peck of emotions with a single glance or trembling finger; she completely sweeps up the action of Act Two and is marvelously filled with gravitas. The men here are no slouch either. Peter Christian Hansen teems with deadly animosity as a revolving door of men in Bryant's life, each iteration demonstrating yet another kind of white man who provided yet another creative way to inflict cruelty on black people. Darrick Mosley is devastating as Clinton Melton and Medgar Evers, portraying yet two more black men who were both murdered for trying to tell the truth. He's a charismatic foil to Hughes' complete power, and collectively this cast will blow you over.

Photo courtesy of the Penumbra

The set, memorably designed by Maruti Evans, is reminiscent of a macabre Declaration of Independence. A movable wall is painted with the text of news articles detailing Till's death and the ensuing trial; a row of straw panama hats hangs ominously on it, as if in the courtroom npacked with an all-white jury; and a series of plain, sturdy wooden furniture is pushed in and out of the scenery, imparting just how hard these characters are working to stay afloat. Several flickering black and white TV screens show clips of the trial and related imagery, lending the entire thing an eerie Hitchcock-ian effect. Combined with the painterly, Rembrandt-like lighting by Marcus Dilliard, one gets a chilling feeling and a sinking stomach from the second the show starts, and it doesn't lessen as the plot goes on.

The only word I can think of to describe benevolence, over and over and over again, is heartbreaking. The story of Emmett Till is sad enough as it is, but combined with the horrific domino effect it set in motion for the rest of the black community it is completely sickening. The amount of people who have been abused, killed and traumatized in the name of white supremacy is abominable; throughout the show I couldn't stop asking myself "how can people do this to each other?!"

The worst part, however, is that people are still doing these things to each other - specifically white Americans. Police officers continue to kill people of color in the streets without impunity; it seems every day we hear new stories of people of color being unjustly imprisoned, lynched, or their children being abused; and white women continue to use the power of racism to endanger the lives of people of color with things as simple as making a phone call. It's exhausting. It's infuriating. It's endless. So what do we do now?

Photo courtesy of the Penumbra

I'm not sure that anyone has a good answer; the problem of racism and white supremacy in America goes so deep, for so long, in so many infinitely detailed ways that it will take many, many years to uproot. What I can say is that attending the Penumbra's excellent rendition of benevolence and educating yourself about just one example of the failures of the American justice system is a good start. Learn so that you cannot unsee; once your eyes are opened, do everything you can to open the eyes, ears, and hearts of others. We must reach each person individually to help them advocate for fairness and justice - and white people, we have to do better. This one's on us. Maybe if we can make a little progress we'll be extended benevolence from the communities we've persecuted to get the rest of the way there. benevolence runs through March 10; for more information or to buy tickets, click on this link.

MUST SEE: For Colored Girls Who Have Considered Suicide / When the Rainbow is Enuf

Lush. Lavish. Generous. Honest. Humbling. 

Photo courtesy of the Penumbra's website

These are just a few of the words that come to mind when I try to describe the full circle experience that is the Penumbra's latest show, Ntozake Shange's seminal for colored girls who have considered suicide / when the rainbow is enuf (for colored girls).

The show begins with three young girls (the future) as they sit on a playground. Their hangout crescendos to a delightful copy of Beyonce's Homecoming performance at Coachella (which got the audience to erupt into applause), at which point the rainbow women come in. Somewhere between a beneficent spirit or fairy godmother, the rainbow women describes a riveting range of women of many races, colors, shapes, hairstyles, tones and personalities who watch over the young girls. They then take turns telling stories familiar to women all over the world and specific to women of color - stories of heartbreak, childbirth, sexual awakenings, sexual violence, fear, strength, confidence, movement and so much more. It's a breathtaking display of the feminine experience and a striking visual that stays with you long after the show ends. This is the first time I've ever seen for colored girls and I always wondered if the rainbow part was a little gimmicky. I'm ashamed now that I ever had that thought, because the full bore strength of seeing this true rainbow of women and the power of their performances is stunning and undeniable. It's a brilliant way to celebrate the differences that already exist between us and show how they can blend into harmony.

Photo courtesy of the Penumbra's website

I'm honestly not sure how to even describe the cast - they are all so different and work so beautifully in tandem that it surely cheapens the show to somehow divide them up. I do, however, want to give each of them individual props for their stunning performances - so here is a small slice of my thoughts:

• Lady in Red: I've only seen Audrey Park in a couple of other shows, and I definitely need to seek her out more. In addition to rocking an unbelievably fabulous haircut (#truestory), she has a lithe athleticism that brings so much energy to her monologues. Her energy definitely matched her color as the Lady in Red. 
• Lady in Orange: Cristina Florencia Castro has been acting and writing in the Twin Cities for a long time, and I'm ashamed to say this is the first time I think I've seen her in a show. She brings a raw, open-hearted emotion that moved her (and the audience) to tears as she performed. Brilliant. 
• Lady in Yellow: Rajané Katurah Brown is fresh out of college and already becoming a formidable performer on #tctheater stages. I've seen her in a couple shows at the Children's Theater, but this was the first time I've seen her really take wing on her own. She gives a sexy, physical performance that riveted me from her first monologue, and she exudes complete and total confidence at all times. Keep an eye on this one. 
• Lady in Green: What more can I say about my love for Sun Mee Chomet? She's been a favorite of mine for years, and this performance is a perfect example why. On this stage of colorful, profound performances and fierce actresses, she still stood out - even going so far as to bring the audience into her final solo piece and getting a spontaneous ovation in the middle of the show. Chomet has a kinetic, can't-look-away energy that grabs you immediately and never lets go. 
• Lady in Blue: I waxed poetic about how much I adored Khanisha Foster's delicious Joy Rebel at the Penumbra last year, and I would happily do so again. She clearly inhabits this material and brings a softer, wiser perspective to her monologues. It's easy to see how she's a great mentor for the other young actresses on stage, and her presence really grounds the show. 
• Lady in Purple: Am'Ber Montgomery is also relatively new to me and another magnetic stage presence. She comes in quietly like a panther, slowly building her performance until she has you totally in her power by the end of the show. She has a grounded physicality and a tempered delivery that I really enjoyed. 
• Lady in Brown: Ashe Jaafaru is another woman who's been around for a while and I've somehow missed - not again. Her sinuous performance is the definition of movement, and she slithers and slides throughout her monologues. She has an extremely expressive face that shows every emotion, and I really enjoyed getting to know her. 

Photo courtesy of the Penumbra's website

There's not a lot of traditional "production value" here, which is smart - it keeps the focus on the gorgeous narrative coming from our rainbow of performers. Vicki Smith's set is essentially a multi-layered set of sheer panels. The women pass between them like ghosts in between each monologue, and with the subtle lighting by Kathy Maxwell we get the full color spectrum and a deceptively wide range of effects despite the simple setting. My favorite element had to be Mathew LeFebvre's costume design, which puts each woman in a distinctive jumpsuit matching the color of her character. The vibrant tones are incredibly striking on the otherwise subdued palate of the set, and I was green with envy at how stylish and comfortable each jumpsuit looked. The Penumbra should definitely think about selling those online! They are so flattering and truly made me wonder why all women's clothing can't be like that. Drea Reynolds gives us a solid sound design that lets every word be heard throughout the ebb and flow of the show's energy. And I loved the singular choreography by Ananya Chatterjea. I don't have the right words to describe the movement in for colored girls, but it has a supple quality that I just loved. From crawling like a leopard to joyous dance sequences to sensual celebrations of curves and femininity, the choreography truly enhances the full-throated experience of this show.

Photo courtesy of the Penumbra's website

Director Sarah Bellamy clearly approached for colored girls with so much love and care, and in her stewardship it crescendos to a glorious and instructive celebration of women of color. There are so many gems to be found in this rich text, and I can't think of a better show to uplift in our #metoo era than this one. So often the problems we face in society can be solved simply by being better listeners, and if there's one lesson in for colored girls it's just that: listen to women of color, celebrate their experiences, and help them with what they ask for. for colored girls is a moving, generous, delicious slice of humanity that will hold anyone in its grace. I think it's a must see show, especially in our current cultural moment, and especially with this powerhouse cast of young actresses who are poised to take the world of theater by storm. This really is a lovely show and the kind of thing we should be better at uplifting - so please click here to get more information and to buy your tickets before for colored girls closes on October 14.

**As another note: the Penumbra always puts together spectacular study guides for each show. The study guide for for colored girls is a particular gem; learn more by clicking here to read it. 

Photo courtesy of the Penumbra's website

This Bitter Earth is Honestly Bittersweet

It begins and ends with a bang. 

Photo by Allen Weeks

A broken bottle, a crumpled body, a shattered heart.

Photo by Allen Weeks

These events are the bookends of This Bitter Earth, a terrific new play by local playwright Harrison David Rivers that is currently showing at the Penumbra Theatre. A clear, modern, emotional, piece, This Bitter Earth tells the story of interracial queer love amidst all of the turmoil of the Black Lives Matter (BLM) movement. It's a nuanced, painfully beautiful exploration of what it means to love outside the box these days, another gem in a string of lovely plays about interracial relationships gracing stages lately, and I couldn't love it more.

Photo by Allen Weeks

This Bitter Earth is hard to summarize because, as one character says in a eulogy at the end, there's *just so much.* The play jumps around between different vignettes at various points in time in the relationship between Jesse Howard and Neil Finley-Darden. Jesse is a black writer who is finishing his thesis in New York City and later becomes a writing teacher in Minnesota; Neil is a wealthy white man from New York City who becomes heavily involved in activism through BLM as his relationship with Jesse evolves. The two men have different life goals and priorities, and their relationship is never easy; but their ardent, consistent love for one another sustains them despite the fearsome obstacles to their love. Faced with everything from disapproving stares to verbal assaults to the final attack that takes Neil's life, Jesse and Neil find a way to celebrate life's most important things - beauty, love, equality, peace - and their example is a testament to us all.

Photo by Allen Weeks

There are only two actors to carry this show, and they are perfectly cast. Kevin Fanshaw plays Neil with a nuance that gives the character the full emotional breadth he deserves, and I was so impressed with his performance. It can be hard to talk about the personal experience of being a white ally in a way that respectfully does not eclipse or erase the experiences of people of color in the movement. Fanshaw's many monologues and asides on this subject beautifully capture this difficulty without cheapening his message, and I think they really nailed this issue. Jon-Michael Reese is simultaneously complex and layered as Jesse. His role equally explores diversity in racial advocacy - not all black people agree with or are involved in BLM, and they certainly don't need to be admonished on the experience of living as people of color under American racism. Reese's deft navigation of this conversation, which is subtle and hard and vital, completes a complex picture of this relationship. Above all, Fanshaw and Reese share a tenacious chemistry that is the cornerstone of all long-lived interracial relationships: if you can't have each other's backs even at home, how can you ever survive outside your private walls? Both of these actors are fairly new-to-me and I was floored by their impactful performances. There's a lot for anyone to learn here, and I thoroughly appreciate their refined acting.

Photo by Allen Weeks

The set designed by Maruti Evans is clean, modern and comfortable. It's a spot-on background for the difficult conversations taking place on stage, and is one of my favorite I've seen at the Penumbra. The costumes by Sarah Bahr are simple, believable, and changed with lightning speed as we quickly pass through different times and locations. The lighting is warm and elegant, and I loved the way lighting designer Marcus Dillard, projections designer Kathy Maxwell and sound designer Kevin Springer worked together to create instant ambiance no matter where the action is taking place. The projections were actually one of my favorite elements; often they can feel lazy to me, as a way to uncreatively replace sets, but these projections really enhance the significance of what the characters are saying (particularly a beautiful set of quotes by various black luminaries) and instantly set the location, saving time to focus on the plot itself. Overall, I think director Talvin Wilks really nailed the vision for this play; it's cohesive, modern and impactful without feeling overwrought.

Photo by Allen Weeks

I wrote more extensively of my experience in an interracial relationship in my review of Wedding Band (also at the Penumbra) last fall, and I don't want to repeat those thoughts here. There are extremely important differences and challenges faced by same-sex couples in interracial relationships, and I appreciated how fully This Bitter Earth explored them. My favorite element of this show, however, was its firm footing in modern life. The Loving vs. Virginia decision is only 50 years old this year, and the threats to interracial (and especially interracial same-sex couples) are very, very real even (or perhaps especially) in #liberal states like Minnesota. These threats have always been visible and challenging to those of us living through them, but I have to say that something even darker seems to have publicly raised its head amidst the political tumult of the last few years. If we want to create safer, more inclusive communities, it is vital that we address these threats and prejudices head on. This Bitter Earth beautifully encapsulates the hard conversations and experiences all interracial couples are having these days. It is heartbreakingly painful to watch but it is also searingly honest, and I really appreciate Harrison David Rivers' unflinching approach and willingness to invite everyone in to help them truly understand how much this problem matters.

Photo by Allen Weeks

As I've mentioned before, this has been an absolutely dynamite year so far in the #tctheater community. It's hard to feel like I'm raving about everything I see, but honestly there have been so many truly excellent shows gracing our stages! I'm happy to say that This Bitter Earth is yet another gem in this collection. The fact that it's written by a local playwright, features bright young stars, and tackles increasingly pressing social concerns with a deft hand is just icing on the cake. The Penumbra is having a dynamite season, and I encourage you to head to Kent Street to check out their work. Artistic Director Sarah Bellamy is so thoughtfully programming around hard conversations we all need to be having and experiences that are often left ignored, and I'm sure you'll find something to love in her choices. I encourage you to visit This Bitter Earth before it closes on May 20; click here for more information or to buy tickets. Please also reference their excellent study guide to the show and issues surrounding it by checking out their well-researched feature - click here.

Photo by Allen Weeks

And seriously, the Penumbra is killing it! Here are my thoughts on the shows I've seen from them so far the past couple years - all have been truly excellent.

• The Wiz (in conjunction with the Children's Theatre Company)
• Wedding Band
• Girl Shakes Loose
• Jitney

Joy Rebel Lights Up the Penumbra

When you hear the phrase "good writing," what does it mean to you? 

Everyone has different answer for this question; after all, we have different tastes and preferences, different values and backgrounds, and so the style and subject matter can widely range between what are considered to be good pieces of writing by any collection of people.

Perhaps my favorite definition comes from a recent podcast by Malcolm Gladwell that details why country music is so poignant and impactful (click here to listen - you won't regret it). Gladwell details that what makes country songs so "sticky" is their specificity; for example, they don't just convey an emotion of sadness but explicitly detail who done who wrong, when and how. A four minute song contains multitudes of specifications, instantly painting a picture of exactly what the artist is trying to say that can't help but stick in our psyches.

Photo courtesy of the Penumbra

I couldn't help but think of this point while watching Joy Rebel, a marvelous new one woman show currently debuting at the Penumbra. Joy Rebel is conceived and performed by Khanisha Foster and relates her experience growing up as a biracial woman, half white and half black, in America and in the acting profession. As her story progresses we learn that her parents were heroin addicts; her early career was built playing Latina characters, because no one believed she was black; and that her white grandmother, despite loving her fiercely, was always disappointed that her daughter had produced black children. It's a piercing monologue and gorgeously written, replete with expansive detail that instantly paints a portrait of Foster's life that can't help but touch you as you listen. Foster's writing is lush and descriptive, bearing hallmarks of Roxane Gay, Lindy West and Tracy K. Smith, and it's just plain riveting.

Photo courtesy of the Penumbra

Foster's performance oozes charisma and charm, blinking in an instant between tremulous sadness and effervescent joy. What makes the whole of Joy Rebel so lovely (for me at least) is the multiplicitious nature of it. No story is ever just one thing; like Foster is both white AND black (regardless of what those who observe her believe), every story contains kernels of pain and love and heartbreak and elation, all intermingled to make this narrative a truly human story. Foster refuses to indulge in the instinct to make her past a martyrdom. Instead, she tells her truth of it and infuses it with every ounce of wisdom and perspective that only time can bestow. Joy Rebel is 70 straight, intermissionless minutes of power and hard-won peace, and I couldn't help but feel overwhelmed with the full, feminine nature of Foster's graceful performance and beautifully written prose. Even if you're not a fan of one-person shows this one is worth a stop. For a slice of complex beauty in your life, look no further than Khanisha Foster's stunning soliloquy Joy Rebel, playing at the Penumbra through February 18. For more information or to buy tickets, click on this link.

The Wiz is a Wondrous Experience

2018 kicked off with a hot collaboration from two of the Twin Cities' anchor theater companies, and it couldn't be a better way to start off the year in #tctheater. 

Photo by Dan Norman

If you grew up in America, chances are you've seen The Wizard of Oz. In fact, you've probably seen it multiple times - on TV movie specials, in anniversary screenings in theaters, on various community theater stages, and maybe even read the original novels by Frank L. Baum. MGM's transcendent film adaptation (which holds up shockingly well on screen 80 years after its first release) was an instant classic and has remained a bedrock of the American cultural imagination ever since.

Photo by Dan Norman

So you've seen The Wizard of Oz... but how about The Wiz? In all the magic of the original it's easy to forget the one major thing that was omitted in the story line: people of color. Despite a fantastical universe filled with munchkins; talking scarecrows, tin men and lions; flying monkeys; witches; and myriad other magical creatures, it seems to have been beyond our collective imagination to diversify the casting to include people who weren't white. The Wiz takes this original story, modernizes it and fills it with a different set of cultural references and an all-black cast. The film adaption circa 1978 is a classic in its own right and stars (among many other VIPs) a luminescent Diana Ross and heartbreakingly youthful Michael Jackson. Despite the familiar plotline, The Wiz has a thoroughly different feel and fiercer urgency from The Wizard of Oz thanks to the casting exchange, and it's a perfect example of the difference it makes to have a wide variety of people and experiences represented on stage, as well as a testimonial to the good things that can be created when we decide to eschew the “classics” and bring things into the modern era.

Photo by Dan Norman

The Children's Theatre Company (CTC) paired up with Penumbra Theatre to bring The Wiz to the stage, and who could be better qualified to do so? I saw The Wizard of Oz on stage at CTC a couple of years ago and it remains one of my favorite shows I've seen, ever; combined with Penumbra's talented cast members and deep legacy, this Wiz is a powerhouse performance that is one of the blackest things I've seen on stage in the Twin Cities and a riotous performance from start to finish.

Photo by Dan Norman

The best part of this Wiz, bar none, is the stellar cast. CTC and Penumbra pulled all the extensive strings they have to flesh out the roster, and boy, did it ever pay off. The performance begins and ends with the stellar, supremely talented Paris Bennett as Dorothy, whose powerhouse, pitch perfect vocals are chillingly fabulous from the very first note. My only real complaint about this production is that we couldn't just listen to Bennett sing for a few hours straight on her own (which is to say: I don't have many complaints), and the moments when Bennett is allowed to shine solo, sans orchestra or even fellow cast members, are truly mesmerizing.

Photo by Dan Norman

Bennett is not alone in talent, though. The cast also features Grammy award winner Jamecia Bennett (who has a standout solo of her own as Glinda in the second act); an extensive and shockingly good list of local luminaries such as Aimee Bryant bringing her best Effie Trinket and smooth singing to the role of Addaperle; Rudolph Searles III shredding the dance floor in unlaced Timberlands as the Lion; a hilarious basso in T. Mychael Rambo as The Wiz; a poignant contralto from Greta Oglesby as Aunt Em and Evillene; and an absolutely resplendent Dennis Spears as the Tinman, in what I am convinced is his best role yet. Dwight Leslie is a promising newcomer to Penumbra as the Scarecrow, and the entire cast is supported by a resplendent cadre of ensemble characters including thrilling young actors like China Brickey, one of my favorite young local performers to watch in coming years.

Photo by Dan Norman

Matthew LeFebvre is back designing costumes for this performance, and they're some of his most inventive yet. The Lion has vibrant dreadlocks and dances with the aforementioned unlaced Timbs; Dorothy has a sweet but modern schoolgirl vibe; the yellow brick road features dancers in Lego-fied cargo pants that are reminiscent of In Living Color; each of the witches has technicolor costumes that pop off the stage into vivid, gaudy life; the munchkins have sculptural wigs that are straight out of the Hunger Games; and the whole thing is sure to dazzle the eye. Choreography, expertly developed by Patrdo Harris, is vital, athletic and reminiscent of African American greats such as Alvin Ailey and Misty Copeland; I wish there were more straight dance interludes to let these talented hoofers really soar. The set, designed by Vicki Smith, is evocative but a little underwhelming for my taste; with such creative costumes and talented performers, why not go all the way and fly them through the cyclone or really maximize the magic I've seen before on stage at CTC? It's still very good, and the detailed projections go a long way to adding depth - I just would have liked a little more of the awe-inducing trickery I've seen there before.

Photo by Dan Norman

Co-productions can be very tricky to pull off well, but I can attest that Penumbra and CTC really got this one right. We obviously don't know what kind of negotiations were made behind the scenes, but it seems like a true creative partnership out in the red seats, and I was really happy with how vibrant this whole production of The Wiz was. From the A++ talented cast to the dynamic costumes and robust dance chops, The Wiz is a living testament to why (every once in a while, at least) we really should reinvent the wheel. Go for the eye candy, stay for the heavenly musicality of one of the most talented casts I've seen in a while. The Wiz is thankfully open through March 18, but tickets are selling fast, so make sure to click here to learn more and reserve your seats before it closes.

Photo by Dan Norman

Book Spotlight: Celebrating Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. in A Testament of Hope

"Let me say that we have failed to say something to America enough. However difficult it is to hear, however shocking it is to hear, we’ve got to face the fact that America is a racist country. We have got to face the fact that racism still occupies the throne of our nation. I don’t think we will ultimately solve the problem of racial injustice until this is recognized, and until this is worked on."

Photo from Wikipedia.

It's no great secret that I love books.

I posted a roundup of my favorite reads last year here (previous roundups can be found by clicking here and here), and it's one of my favorite things to write about. Reading has been a passion of mine since I was a child, and no other practice has been more beneficial in opening my mind and my heart to continued growth and empathy.

Considering the many fraught events of the last year or two, I found myself feeling somewhat overwhelmed with all of the political noise. How could we ever climb out of this, I thought? How can we ever hope for a brighter day? Is all of our progress lost? How can I, an individual, do anything impactful to help solve these problems?

As a test to myself I decided to channel this angst into action and research by reading A Testament of Hope cover-to-cover. This hefty tome (clocking in at well over 600 pages) is a collection of almost every writing and speech given by Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Encompassing essays, letters, speeches, books and pamphlets, and interviews, the book is organized by type and provides a magnificent survey of the full philosophy of one of our nation's greatest heroes. It's the best place I could have channeled my energy last year, and I can safely say that now, exactly one year after I began this project, I have learned so much and gained so much wisdom from this text. I will certainly be revisiting it frequently going forward, but I wanted to summate some of my favorite lessons from the book. This year marks 50 years since King was killed and we have a lot of ground to make up; there's no better place to turn than the source itself to figure out how to get where we need to be.

1. White people need to do more to fix racism and racist policies. A lot more. Especially in the North. 

If there was a single takeaway that most impacted me personally it was this one. One of the major themes of King's work that we love to forget, particularly after he won the Nobel prize and had gained international fame, was his extreme disappointment with the lack of support for civil rights among white people, particularly Christians and political liberals. The single biggest factor in slowing the march of progress of the Civil Rights Movement was the lack of initiative in the white community to speak out about obvious wrongs, challenge fellow white people on their racist beliefs, financially support the movement, demand that the political system change to one of true fairness, and most importantly to admit and apologize for the destructive racism that has poisoned America from day one. Black people didn't invent systemic racism, white people did, and until that cause/effect is directly addressed, our society will not be truly equitable. It is not enough to point fingers at "those rednecks" down South and pat ourselves on the back. Racism is pervasive, insidious, and takes many forms - even up in the great white North. We need to address those issues here just as urgently as Alabama had to tackle Jim Crow.

2. Dr. King was far more radical than anyone wants to admit. 

One of the reasons I felt so driven to read all of this book was that the true history of a person tends to get muddled or deformed as time passes, and I had a suspicion this was true of King. Turns out, I was right. King has become such a mythical figure in the collective American memory that his work is often distilled to a single, whitewashed quote - "I have a dream" - and the finer, more important points of his arguments are lost. It was extremely beneficial to fully submerge into his philosophy of nonviolence and harsh recriminations of the American system. The popular image of King might be a warm and fuzzy memory, but we'd be better off to remember the real, more pointed King, the King who went to jail, preached against war at all costs, and who approached American policy with unflinching honesty and unending grace in the truest sense of that term.

3. Racism hurts everyone, not just black people. 

The systemic inequalities facing our society have trickle down effects that end up affecting all of us. Whether it's watching our neighbors suffer while we look on, to enabling class exploitation or simply reducing the tax base through unfair wages, every American citizen is impacted by our racist laws and policies. We are all in this together and acknowledging that shared burden is the only way we're going to fix these massive problems.

4. Real persistence can get you anywhere, even with a small amount of resources. 

It's highly instructive to revisit success stories like the Montgomery bus boycott. It can feel overwhelming to work in a social movement - where will you find money to promote your cause? How will you convince people to join your cause? If the power structure has no incentive to change, how can you convince them to? The Montgomery boycott was effective because everyone participated, it was never broken - despite extreme personal sacrifices on the part of many who had very little - and it made an enormous financial impact to the city's bottom line. Had any of those elements failed (and they almost did), the boycott itself would have failed as so many before it. Good organization and clear demands can get you a very long way, so it's important not to get caught up in the trappings of fundraising or political infighting to the neglect of specifying your goals and consistently following through on your promised actions.

5. We have more in common than we don't. 

Perhaps the most powerful gift King had was the ability to gently remove prejudices and stereotypes to help people find common ground. Reading his interviews to diverse cross-sections of audiences, from African-Americans to Jews to Southern and Northern White America, he was a master at making his arguments seem personally impactful. None of the achievements King is known for could have happened without a supportive base, and I'm hard-pressed to think of another person who was so able to truly unite such a broad cross-section of society. King was not a popular man even at the height of his work - his approval ratings never exceeded 45% of the population until after his death - but he still managed to draw an intriguing group of dedicated volunteers from key demographics who made a huge impact with very few resources.

I'd like to leave you with some quotes from the last piece of A Testament of Hope, a short book King wrote called the Trumpet of Conscience. It's one of the last pieces he published and so extraordinarily timely that I hard a hard time not copying the entire document. You can find links to the full text here, and it's worth grabbing a copy if you're able. I hope you all have some meditations and actions of resistance to celebrate the life of Dr. King today; I know I will be finding ways to participate on my own as well.

"Let me say that we have failed to say something to America enough. However difficult it is to hear, however shocking it is to hear, we’ve got to face the fact that America is a racist country. We have got to face the fact that racism still occupies the throne of our nation. I don’t think we will ultimately solve the problem of racial injustice until this is recognized, and until this is worked on. [...]

A nation that continues year after year to spend more money on military defense than on programs of social uplift is approaching spiritual doom. [...] This generation is engaged in a cold war, not only with the earlier generation, but with the values of its society. It is not the familiar and normal hostility of the young groping for independence. It has a new quality of bitter antagonism and confused anger which suggests basic issues are being contested. [...]

The tempest of evils provides the answer for those adults who ask why this young generation is so unfathomable, so alienated, and frequently so freakish. For the young people of today, peace and social tranquility are as unreal and remote as knight-errantry. […] Ironically, their rebelliousness comes from having been frustrated in seeking change within the framework of the existing society. […] Their radicalism is growing because the power structure of today is unrelenting in defending not only it social system but the evils it contains; so, naturally, it is intensifying the opposition. [...]

Of course, by now it is obvious that new laws are not enough. The emergency we now face is economic, and it is a desperate and worsening situation. For the 35 million poor people in America – not even to mention, just yet, the poor in the other nations – there is a kind of strangulation in the air. In our society it is murder, psychologically, to deprive a man of a job or an income. You are in substance saying to that man that he has no right to exist. You are in a real way depriving him of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, denying in his case the very creed of his society. Now, millions of people are being strangled in that way. The problem is international in scope. And it is getting worse, as the gap between the poor and the “affluent society” increases. [...]

As a minister, I take prayer too seriously to use it as an excuse for avoiding work and responsibility. When a government commands more wealth and power than has ever before been known in the history of the world, and offers no more than this, it is worse than blind, it is provocative. [...]

The dispossessed of this nation – the poor, both white and Negro – live in a cruelly unjust society. They must organize a revolution against that injustice, not against the lives of the persons who are their fellow citizens, but against the structures through which the society is refusing to take means which have been called for, and which are at hand, to lift the load of poverty. [...]

In a world facing the revolt of ragged and hungry masses of God’s children; in a world torn between the tensions of East and West, white and colored, individualists and collectivists; in a world whose cultural and spiritual power lags so far behind her technological capabilities that we live each day on the verge of nuclear co-annihilation; in this world, nonviolence is no longer and option for intellectual analysis, it is an imperative for action."