'The Lost Boys of Sudan:' a Lyrical, Insightful Journey at Victory Gardens Theater

Now through April 25, 2010, on the mainstage of the Victory Gardens Biograph Theater, is the premiere of "The Lost Boys of Sudan," the play by VG ensemble playwright Lonnie Carter that has "changed enormously" since its 2007 world premiere at The Children's Theatre Company in Minneapolis. The play which opened Sunday night is most certainly an "adult" one, though children will certainly relate to and enjoy it as much as the cognoscenti opening night crowd did. And I don't mean that it is overly sexual, overly violent or full of parental warnings and pitfalls--it is none of those things at all. Rather, it is insightful, poetic and full of the human condition, and performed by an experienced (though sometimes young) professional cast as a modern verse drama of the most contemporary kind--ripped from today's headlines, but universal in import and impact.

The production, somewhat surprisingly, has been directed and choreographed by song and dance man Jim Corti--he of "A Chorus Line" on Broadway, and a multiple Jeff Award winner for musicals like "Sweet Charity," "Singin' in the Rain," and "Blues in the Night." Let me be clear--this production has no razzle, and very little dazzle. But there certainly is theatricality to be savored, along with incisive characterizations, changing locations and heightened language. This tale of young Dinka men (and some women) of southern Sudan, forced from their homes and orphaned by war and greed in the late 1980s and 1990s, admitted into the U.S. in 2001 and still very much among us, is thought-provoking and constantly clever in its wordplay. Five of the eight members of the cast play multiple characters. Much of the early going is in the form of monologues (the first one delivered by Nambi E. Kelley as a beautiful and articulate African cow). The first act takes place throughout Sudan and Kenya. And the second act takes place in Fargo, North Dakota. 

Our three heroes (A.I. Josh, T-Mac Sam and K-gar Ollie) are portrayed by Namir Smallwood, Samuel G. Roberson, Jr. and Leslie Ann Sheppard, respectively. Each of them displays a great command of the acting arsenal, with Smallwood a delightfully quirky comic who can turn commandingly dramatic on a dime. If Roberson is a little hard to believe physically as a basketball standout in his North Dakota life, he is quite likeable and empathetic, with a dose of the downtrodden optimist thrown into the mix. And Sheppard's K-gar masks her secret well, using her physicality and her guts to optimum advantage. 

The actor Adeoye uses his commanding presence to maximum effect as well. Ann Joseph is warmly maternal and sly as women from both continents. I lost track of how many characters the chameleon Kenn E. Head plays, so thoroughly is he invested in them. And Latricia Kamiko Sealy might as well be two different actors when she portrays the war-damaged Twelve in the first act and the American high schooler Molly Midnight in the second. Bravos to them all. 

Playwright Carter says that his script is "hip-hop infused," and it is, at times. But mostly, I felt it was in the great tradition of English verse that moves from Shakespeare and Marlowe to Ntozake Shange and beyond. The cast handles the words, whether poetry of the heavens or rap of the streets, with dexterity, clarity and wonder. My main reservation about the play and the production centers around the lack of true dramatic conflict for the three "lost boys" we follow. Yes, they survive great hardship in Africa, losing everything, and I do mean everything. But a bit too much of the second act centers on familiar "fish out of water" humor or on what feel like some slightly stale "growth and change" time-advance sequences. 

Where is the great existential struggle of "who am I," or "where should I live," or "why was I spared?" The promises of the early monumental scenes in the bush and the refugee camp didn't feel fully explored or realized to me. There was much there, surely. But I felt like I wanted more, and I didn't want to cheapen the struggle of these young people by merely nodding in affirmation that they were safe and learning American ways. Perhaps achieving adulthood really is an accomplishment for the "lost boys." I just wish it had been a tiny bit harder toward the end. 

That said, the technical elements of the production are lovely, with Elizabeth Flauto's costumes the stand-out. James Dardenne has provided a flexible playing area and some simple projections, lit with some warmth by Rita Pietraszek. The sound design of Andre Pluess was highly effective in the early going, when he had more to do. And Sheila Landahl did yeoman's work as dialect coach--I can't imagine the amount of work she put in, dealing with such an array of language possibilities. 

"The Lost Boys of Sudan" is an enjoyable, meaningful evening of issue-based, heightened theatricality, infused with sadness, more than a little humor and a great deal of understanding. I hope that is provides great opportunities for actors and audiences across the country and the world to plunge into a real human tragedy and to see the hope on the other side. But perhaps Carter will seize upon a great dramatic moment or two that, to this viewer, lurk just out of reach at present. Like the story of the boys themselves, I would hate for all that potential to fall short of full realization. 

Regular performances of "The Lost Boys of Sudan" by Lonnie Carter continue through April 25 at the Victory Gardens Biograph Theater, 2433 N. Lincoln Avenue in Chicago.  Tickets are $20-$48. "The Lost Boys of Sudan" is recommended for ages 14 and up, and has equal appeal for adults. Call the Victory Gardens box office, 773.871.3000, or purchase online at www.victorygardens.org.

Photo credit: Liz Lauren.

(Above, from left) K-Gar Ollie (Leslie Ann Sheppard), A.I. Josh (Namir Smallwood) and T-Mac Sam (Samuel G. Roberson, Jr.)

(Center, from left) Samuel G. Roberson, Jr., Leslie Ann Sheppard, Namir Smallwood and Adeoye

(Below, from left) Kenn E. Head, Namir Smallwood, Samuel G. Roberson, Jr., Leslie Ann Sheppard, Adeoye and Ann Joseph

 

 

 

 

 

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