Review: The Delicious Tension of CLYDE'S at Theatrical Outfit

It was a veritable who’s who of Atlanta theatrical society that gathered at the March 15th opening night of Theatrical Outfit’s staging of Lynn Nottage’s Clyde’s.  An Atlanta premiere always draws in a crowd, but even moreso when the play is written by a two-time Pulitzer prize winner, directed by an Emory alum and Alliance performer, and set in a theater filled with piped-in scents of garlic and fresh bread.

The theater was a-buzz as audience members settled into their seats, dressed in finery, clutching cocktails, and awaiting a story so very antithetical to their own lives - one about former felons running a truck stop sandwich shop.  This theme of antithesis, of duality itself, runs through each moment of January LaVoy’s multifaceted staging and asks viewers to question what it truly means to be free.

Tonia Jackson is the stunning and titular Clyde, a foul-mouthed and red-clad devil of a woman, whom Jackson claims with impeccable timing and a raw realness that breaks through even her harshest of scenes.  The audience struggles in their dueling admiration and dislike for Clyde as she runs a slightly shady business alongside a cast of exceptionally three-dimensional characters.  

The love-hate only increases when Clyde is paired against her foil, Montrellous, the sandwich guru whose black-Buddha-meets-Jesus air inspires the others, much to Clyde’s chagrin.  It’s in this role that Geoffrey Williams shines (literally, thanks to Rob Dillard’s clever underlighting) as the man devoted to his craft, elevating the simple sandwich (“the most democratic of foods”) far from the red plastic baskets of Clyde’s kitchen into a piece of art, describing his creations with such emotion and care that the audience lets out a collective sigh.  Led by Montrellous, the sandwich becomes something more, and the kitchen turns into a temple where all partake in the communion mass of St. Clyde’s.

Alongside the Christfigure of Montrellous and the looming mistress that is Clyde are the three kitchen workers, filling the back of house with their antics, lessons, and their own attempts at redemption-through-sandwich-art:  Rafael, a good-hearted grill master, Letitia, the sassy line cook struggling to care for her ill daughter, and Jason, the only white worker, recently-released from jail and with the tattoos to prove it.  The rest of the cast plays their parts with such authenticity and magnitude that it’s easy to forget that they aren’t former inmates attempting to seek good post-prison.  

Tequila Whitfield’s Letitia is at turns tough, kind, clever, and tender, and the audience roots for her to find her peace - especially in the arms of Marcello Audino’s Rafael.  Audino is full of humor and charm and so realistic that he never gives the audience a singular hint that the burgers he flips might not be the real deal.  Also incredibly genuine is Burke Brown’s Jason, making a graceful arc from a cautious felon to an earnest and honest worker, wiping imaginary sweat from his brow so convincingly one might even feel the heat from the grill three rows back.  It’s easy to root for him and his coworkers as they find who they truly are outside of prison walls - and eventually, outside of Clyde’s.

The kitchen-cum-temple itself is a work of scenic design genius helmed by Isabel and Moriah Curley-Clay.  As soon as theater-goers step into Theatrical Outfit’s space, it’s like going behind the counter of any local sandwich shop to see where the magic happens (and happen, it does). There are grills and prep stations, boxes of dry goods, to-go containers ready to be filled, everything one would find in a standard restaurant space - even the mousetrap hidden just under the window.  Clyde’s kitchen serves as its own character, beginning the show waiting to create, just as the actors do.

Scenes with the entire cast onstage together in this space are where they really draw the audience in, each character feeding off of each other as they feed their clients.  Moments of dialogue and tension are hot off the grill, especially when the peace Williams’s Montrellous brings to the kitchen comes in direct conflict with the crude and oft-cruel demands of Jackson’s Clyde.  

It’s in the five characters’ dimensional relationships - boss to worker, teacher to student, lover to jilted lover - that they show the subtle and beautiful nuances of the story and let viewers hope and fear and laugh alongside them.  Through their storytelling, a sandwich and a back-of-house kitchen are no longer a simple thing - they are a shared last supper among theatrical disciples.

Theatrical Outfit’s Clyde’s runs through April 7 at The Balzer Theater at Herren’s. Visit TheatricalOutfit.org for more information and to purchase tickets.

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