Review - Cat On A Hot Tin Roof: Comedy Tonight!

Though Tennessee Williams' Cat On A Hot Tin Roof certainly has its share of humor, mostly of the tragicomedy variety, you wouldn't expect a revival of the play to be the laff riot of the Broadway season. But this production has been mounted by Debbie Allen, who may be a neophyte when it comes to stage drama, but has an impressive resume when it comes to directing television sitcoms (from serious comedy like A Different World, to lighter fare such as Everybody Hates Chris). The night I attended, the vocal audience was lapping up her swift-moving production, which often sacrifices tension and dramatics for the sake of comic timing, like thirsty kittens. And while it was fun to be among people who were so into what they were seeing - and I'll certainly take this one over the lethargic Broadway mounting of four years ago - I found the evening emotionally hollow. Despite large patches of good work from her cast, Allen's production as a whole, while entertaining, lacks urgency and bite.

A big problem is the low-impact performance of Terrance Howard, making his stage acting debut as Brick, the former college football star who has turned to alcohol, can't communicate with his parents, won't sleep with his wife and feels responsible for the suicide of a guy who was, at the very least, his best friend. His subdued performance is nearly void of intensity, rarely showing signs of the man's suffering and complexity, particularly in scenes with his wife, Maggie.

Maggie, "The Cat," hooked the well-off Brick to escape poverty but fears her childless marriage will diminish their inheritance when family patriarch, Mississippi plantation owner Big Daddy, who is stricken with cancer, passes away. At first, she's played with perky sexiness by Anika Noni Rose, who gives the appearance of being in her early 20s. The opening scene, where Maggie is preparing herself for Big Daddy's birthday party while chatting away to the disinterested Brick, earns laughs for the contrast of her pep and his sullenness but barely registers as relationship development. But as the play wears on you can see Maggie's inner wheels moving as she attempts more mature, womanly methods to secure her future.

James Earl Jones' vocal and physical command of the stage makes him a natural for Big Daddy and his boisterous bellows and hearty laughter, convinced he's cheated death, are savored with extra relish in the cruder language of Williams' revised text. Phylicia Rashad, also an actress of tremendous vocal and physical command, seems less of a natural as the doting bulldozer Big Mama, but her adoring loyalty to her unfeeling husband is communicated with tragic pathos. Giancarlo Esposito's Gooper, Brick's crafty and manipulating brother, is excellent.

Having William H. Grant III's lights fade into solo spotlights when characters have monologues is neither particularly effective nor distracting, but the cheap-looking moon and fireworks lit onto the sky look completely out of place compared to the realism of the rest of the physical production. In fact, they made me laugh.