"The past is not dead," William Faulkner once wrote. "It isn't even past." Whether she meant to or not, Tanya Barfield has adapted this thought-provoking sentiment for the stage in her new play Blue Door, a fascinating look at four generations of African-American men and their battles with racism now running at Playwrights Horizons. One hundred and forty years after his great-grandfather was freed from slavery, a college professor finds himself haunted by the ghosts of his ancestors and by his own neuroses.
As a Black man in a predominately white society, Lewis (an eloquently mournful Reg E. Cathey) has learned to reject everything that makes him different from his (white) peers, but in doing so has given himself a severe identity crisis. Unable to fully assimilate and unwilling to be anything less than everything he can be, he is in the worst possible of limbos. After his white wife leaves him (due, she says, to his refusal to participate in the 1995 Million Man March), Lewis' great-grandfather, grandfather, and brother (all played by a wonderfully vibrant André Holland) return from the dead like Scrooge's ghosts to share their stories and wisdom, recounting the horrors of slavery and its lengthy aftermath. As the non-linear, multi-generational and thoroughly meta saga unfolds, Lewis begins to face his internal and external demons, connecting with his history and his future.
It sounds heavier than it plays. Barfield has a deft touch with words and narrative, and despite the pathos and pain inherent to the story, Blue Door is not depressing or preachy. She tells many powerful stories in a mere ninety minutes, and raises some thought-provoking questions that may not have answers, but avoids sinking into pity-pleas or blame. This is a sharp, poignant drama that goes for the mind as much as the heart, challenging every member of the audience to consider their innermost thoughts about their ancestors, their peers, and themselves.
Barfield is also blessed with an all-too-rare gift that turns dialogue and narrative into poetry, conjuring up her stories with razor sharp images. A recounting of the brutal 1916 murder of Jesse Washington is transformed into a family story, and told in such simple, effective words as to make the violence seem live rather than simply described.
Cathey and Holland share a wonderful chemistry in their multitude of roles, playing off of each others energies with dexterity and ease. Whether playing men or women, young or old, Black or white, they inhabit their characters rather than representing them, avoiding clichës and stereotypes and always finding the core of the personality. Leigh Silverman's direction is subtle and elegant, allowing the energy to ebb and flow at natural paces, gently bringing the audience into that frightening place where past meets present and death is just another open door.
Photos by Joan Marcus
1) Andre Holland and Reg E. Cathey
2) Reg E. Cathey and Andre Holland
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