Review: A RAISIN IN THE SUN at Theatre Memphis

The “fuel” for the human spirit seems to be propelled by two things: Dreams and Faith. They sound like the same thing, but there’s a distinct difference. One is about seeing, and the other is about believing. Some people have faith without any dreams and others have the dreams without any faith.

Ideally, a person has both-that is that their faith in their dream will come true. For the Younger family (an African American family living in a rundown apartment on the South side of Chicago in the 1950’s), both are in peril. Whether it’s a young woman’s dream of becoming a doctor, or her brother longing to start a new business or their mother hoping for both-faith in these dreams is sometimes all a person has left. In A RAISIN IN THE SUN at Theatre Memphis, the longing for a better life is beautifully on display in director Jared Thomas Johnson’s poignant and powerful production. In it, he and his cast of top-notch actors capture the essence of the human struggle, while their faith and dreams hang in the balance. Overall, it’s deeply moving.

Written in the late 1950’s, author Lorraine Hansbury’s play was the very first on Broadway written by an African American woman. The title comes from a Langston Hughes poem (“Harlem”) which asks if a dream deferred dries up “like a raisin in the sun.” Or, whether a dream deferred is more like a “sore that festers” or if “stinks like rotting meat.” In the end, he asks, “or does it explode?” The potential outcomes worsen analogy by analogy. For the Younger family, the desperation of keeping the faith and/or following their dreams is palpable. The catalyst for advancing on these dreams comes in the form of the patriarch’s life insurance check of $10,000 due the next day. With that money, his wife could buy a home, his daughter could go to medical school, or his son could open his own business. All worthy endeavors, but at what cost? Who loses their dream to fund another’s? Who loses faith that their lives will ever get better at the expense of someone they love? Powerful stuff.

For many, this classic tale has been experienced in its various forms (stage, film, tv, etc.) and various times over the past 60 years. However, what no one has ever experienced before is this specific tight knit cast in Memphis, TN on this exact Theatre Memphis stage bringing together an essence and familiarity grounded in such realism. There is no acting going on here. Just reality. This is a family bonded through heartbreak and strife. It’s a family of three generations (Mother, daughter, son and his wife, and their son) sharing beds, bathrooms, and money. It’s a family of servant workers taking care of people already living their dreams. It’s a group of people stuck between recognizing (let alone celebrating) their African heritage versus assimilating into white America. It’s about moving forward or dying in oblivion.

As the matriarch (Lena Younger) who rules with an iron fist, combined with a heart of gold, Sherronda Whitmore Johnson exudes wisdom, warmth, and strength. She’s a woman of faith, but who believes in her children even more. She dreams of using her deceased husband’s insurance money to buy a new home, not for herself, but for her children and grandchildren. She wants them to have a better life than she ever had or has ever been able to provide. Johnson is a consummate actor who has a delivery style that is slow, deliberate and simply captivating. She commands the stage in a way that demands (and earns) respect. Brava!

Donita Johnson plays Ruth Younger (daughter-in-law to Lena) living in the same apartment with everyone else. She’s married to Lena’s son, Walter, while raising their son. Ruth works full-time as a “domestic” while also trying to be a good wife and mother. She must walk a fine line as she navigates the fragile relationships and dynamics surrounding her and her extended family. You can tell she has opinions, and you can also tell how many she’s not sharing. Johnson is a fantastic actor who says more in her silence than most actors ever could while speaking. She’s perfect.

As the daughter (Beneatha) dreaming to become a doctor, Mariah Michelle Stokes is convincing as a young woman trying to find her place in the world. She has a mind of her own (there is no God) or at least trying to have a mind of her own (embrace her African roots or let a wealthy man take care of her) and she beautifully represents the crossroads most young adults encounter as they mature.

As the “dueling suitors” competing for Beneatha’s heart (and mind) are Kashief Crain as the Nigerian studying in Chicago (Joseph Asagai) and Marvin Holt as the wealthy and educated American looking for a mate to be more seen than heard (George Murchison). Crain’s character is a worldly man asking Beneatha to return to Africa with him and have a mind of her own, while Holt’s George tends to be dismissive of her ideas and opinions. Despite their flaws, both actors offer compelling perspectives and provide the perfect struggle for Beneatha.

In one of the most thankless roles in the American theatre, Patrick Ashbee nails it as the “sleazeball with a smile,” Karl Linder. He’s a man representing the white homeowner’s association willing to pay the Youngers to not move into his neighborhood. Ashbee is almost too convincing thinking he’s being transparent and respectful with the Younger family all the while uttering the phrase, “You people” repeatedly. With each utterance, the audience’s gasps became louder and louder. He was incredibly despicable in the best way possible.

In the past year, Trey Oliver has had prominent roles around town in FAT HAM and SISTER ACT, but those performances dramatically pale in comparison to his performance here as Lena’s son, Walter. Oliver brings a profound naturalism and believability to the desperation of being a man that not only his son can be proud of, but himself too. He’s a chauffeur who’s barely able to make ends meet while dreaming of starting a business that no one seems to support. He self-medicates with alcohol, sleeps too much, and lashes out at the people who love him the most, but you can’t help but feel for the guy. He’s leading a life of quiet (maybe not so quiet) desperation and makes too many painful (and perhaps avoidable) mistakes along the way. His anguish at his perpetual near misses is devastating. Oliver has never been better.

Technically, this show (like all Theatre Memphis shows over the past few years) has extraordinarily strong elements. Jack Netzel-Yates set design of a rundown southside tenement apartment suggests realism without being overly dramatic. Marsena Sellers wig and costume design suggests a family of modest means doing the very best they can and Nicole Northington’s lighting proves to be functional without being distracting (that’s a compliment). It remains inexplicable though why Theatre Memphis resists putting microphones on its actors in “non-musical” productions. If it makes sense to provide electronic amplification for performers who are speaking (not singing) in a musical, why doesn’t it make sense to do the same with non-musicals? Yes, most (not all) of the words could be heard/understood in this production, but it still required straining and cupping of ears. Why risk allowing ANY word to be missed from such a finely written show?

Director Jared Thomas Johnson has not only assembled a cast of incredibly gifted actors, but he’s also somehow gotten them to work together with impeccable timing and astonishing realism. They expertly convey a family who has seen it all and still sticks together. Their dreams are our dreams. Their struggles are our struggles. Their pain is our pain. You don’t have to be an African American living in the projects in the 1950’s to identify to your core. You just have to be a human who also has faith that everything somehow and some way will eventually be okay. Because it will.

Photos by Carla McDonald and Steve Roberts

To post a comment, you must register and login.