Review: AN OCTOROON Brings Hilarity and Hard Truths to Woolly Mammoth

"Out of every eight drops of my blood, seven are red, but one is black." In those words, spoken with despairing apology in An Octoroon by Zoe, the titular octoroon, the illegitimate daughter of a plantation owner, are revealed the most profound and internalized depths of racism. Like a root vegetable, where the substance of the plant is buried under the ground, it truly visible only when you yank it out to examine what has grown underneath. In this case, what's above ground is a brilliant adaptation by playwright, 2016 Pulitzer finalist (for Gloria), and DC-native Branden Jacobs-Jenkins of an 1859 play by Anglo-Irish Dion Boucicault; a play that caused controversy and sold-out houses in somewhat equal measure when it played at the Winter Garden Theatre in the looming shadow of the Civil War. Washington is incredibly fortunate that the boundary-pushing mission of Woolly Mammoth has brought An Octoroon to DC, after sold out runs Off Broadway at SoHo Rep and Theatre for a New Audience in 2014 and 2015. In conjunction with the play Woolly is also offering a series of free, companion events as part of their House Lights Up program, that allow DC audiences to connect and engage with the show on a deeper level.

By definition, an "octoroon," is a person who is one-eighth black by descent. But the impact of Zoe's ancestry is only one of many references to the absurdity of the construct of race, class, gender, status that fuel An Octoroon. As the story goes, George Peyton, nephew of a plantation owner who has recently passed, returns to Louisiana to look after his elderly aunt and manage the plantation, which is facing financial ruin and the subsequent sale of all property, including the slaves. The villain of the melodrama is Peyton's neighbor, Jacob M'Closky, who would have the plantation for himself, most particularly Zoe, who has otherwise refused his advances. Meanwhile, Dido, Minnie, Grace, Paul and Pete, slaves of the plantation (and Wahnotee, a Native American who has formed a bond with Pete), follow the chaos with interest, but are, mostly, impotent and divided on how best to respond. The climactic revelation that not only must the plantation property [including the slaves, of course] be sold to pay debts, but that Zoe, whom everyone believed had been freed by her father, George's uncle and beloved by his wife, is in fact, a slave, and will be auctioned off with the others, turns the thundercloud into a tornado, and leads to tragic consequences.

In his era, Boucicault's work was part of the genre of "sensation drama," employing tricks and spectacle for both external and internal effect; i.e., get the audience's attention, and then make them feel something with intensity. This is alluded to in Jacobs-Jenkins' adaptation as well, although I will not spoil its intended effect. This is one show for which I was thankful that I took the time to read the program notes prior to the start of the play; not because they are necessary to understanding the action/story, but because I felt I got a great deal more out of the experience knowing some of the history of this fascinating work, and its original playwright.

The truly impressive feat by Jacobs-Jerkins is that this adaptation takes that real-life story, uses it as commentary on the original work, adds his own perspective and devices, and then encourages the audience to revel in their own interpretation of what they're seeing, without overanalyzing. The metaphor of a camera that figures prominently in the plot, as the audience, bearing silent witness and unheard commentary, is deliciously layered. In fact, as directed by Nataki Garrett, everything in An Octoroon is deliciously layered. As anyone who has been "summed up" by another's laziness will tell you, our insides defy our outsides in speaking the truth.

In essence, An Octoroon is a Matryoshka, or Russian nesting doll of a play; playwrights within playwrights, stories within stories, characters within characters. Jacobs-Jenkins has, within the exaggerated stereotypes, hidden in plain sight an incredibly nuanced social commentary; and if there is a message in the play, it is that we must be careful not to take our perceived messages at face value. And we must never let the voice delivering the message be ignored.

Just as the Boucicault stepped into his own play on stage, playing Wahnotee, the Native American character in his time, Jacobs-Jenkins has written himself into his work, in the form of the playwright we meet as BJJ, whose opening monologue could very nearly be a darkly comedic solo show in its own right. Jon Hudson Odom plays BJJ, as well as the plantation owner, George, and his neighboring rival M'Closky, who intends to own Zoe, despite the fact that George and Zoe, the mixed-race daughter of George's recently deceased uncle, have fallen for each other. George is now running the plantation, and has adopted his family's paternalistic, patronizing protectionism of their slaves. Odom is instantly compelling as the playwright who feels he must tell us why we're all there, because as a "black playwright," there must be a message, a statement, a social comment on race in his work, right? And he is making us listen to him with every fiber of his being, whether speaking, gesturing, silently eying the audience for effect or simply shifting position. As the white George and M'Closky, Odom in face paint and wig delivers the overwrought melodramatic speeches with aplomb, using the exaggerated style to keep the show grounded in its history, but never letting us forget we are watching a play. He is a master of physicality on stage, and by the end of the play, you may just have forgotten that the same actor opened the show, as took the final bow as all three of his alter-egos.

And oh, those slaves. If Odom's opening could be its own show, the characters of the female slaves Dido and Minnie, played by Erika Rose and Shannon Dorsey respectively, could have their own show as well, preferably of the reality-comedy variety. Written by Jacobs-Jenkins to speak in present day style, Dido and Minnie get us up close and personal with what they really think of the goings-on at the financially-troubled Terrebonne, the swampy Louisiana plantation where Minnie has spent her whole life, and where change may (or may not) be coming. Shannon Dorsey, making her Woolly Mammoth debut as Minnie gives, quite simply, one of the finest comedic performances I have ever seen. The chemistry between Dorsey and Rose, as Dido, the older, more seasoned of the two slaves, is likewise, one of the most satisfying relationships of any kind you're likely to find on stage.

A nod also to the comedic talents of Maggie Wilder, as Dora, the southern belle who has set her sights on George, oblivious to the relationship that has sprung up between Zoe and George, but determined to make herself relevant. This cast, as an ensemble, is asked to do a herculean task of balancing the caricatures with the subtlety, the humor with the tragic and managing the intricate staging. Bravo to all.

In the end, An Octoroon does not sit comfortably in any particular genre, and that is in its favor. It is part comedy, part tragedy, part farce, part truth. It may have been written in 1859, but as Jacobs-Jenkins shows us, our relationships with each other, given race, class, status, gender, are tales as old as time, and as new as this very moment. In this play's world, skin color is only face paint deep, words may reveal or obscure, explosions may be silent, and human beings may be animals. Not only is An Octoroon great theater, it is a testament to why we, as human beings, desperately need great theater to help us understand each other, and more importantly, understand ourselves. This is theater about theater about life. It's outrageously funny, deeply disturbing and comes highly recommended.

An Octoroon runs through June 26 '16. For more information on the show, the House Lights Up events and for tickets, visit: http://www.woollymammoth.net/octoroon/

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