Review: BROWNSVILLE SONG (B-SIDE FOR TRAY) Sounds a Call for Justice and Healing at Theatre Alliance

"He was not." A grieving grandmother repeatedly belts that powerful phrase across the audience from the opening scene of 'Brownsville Song (b-side for tray)'-an emphatic repudiation of the 10 second newsflash that has gutted the soul out of her dead grandson, Tray (Sideeq Heard). Another young, black life cut short on the jagged streets of Brooklyn's Brownsville neighborhood--same old story that flashes across TV screens and dots the local section of newspapers every day. But he, she insists, was not. Was not what? The phrase is never fully finished, but as 'Brownsville Song' plays on, you find yourself wondering less about what Tray wasn't, and reveling more in what he was.

This young production (premiered in 2014), written by Kimber Lee, directed and choreographed by Paige Hernandez, and brought to us by the bold and convicted Theatre Alliance via the Anacostia Playhouse, methodically scratches beneath the surface of the headlines and news clips to uncover the treasure-trove of potential lying in the person beneath them. Alternating without warning between moments in Tray's and his family's lives before and after the tragic act, the play gathers the pieces of who he was, what he aspired to be, and what he meant for those he left behind-especially his tough-loving grandmother, Lena (Lolita Marie), his timid tween sister, Devine (Kita Grayson), and his estranged step-mother-turned tutor, Merrell (Regina Aquino). Carrying few plot surprises, 'Brownsville Song' is more contemplative than operatic. But don't get the wrong idea-less motion makes it no less moving. There were tears. Many tears.

Relationships are the lens through which the audience views this story, and if we were to map this play's relationships, Tray would be at the center of them all. He is the sole character who is loved and trusted by everyone, and Sideeq Heard wins over the audience's trust, too, with the authenticity, charm, and exuberance he brings to the role. His interactions with Marie's Lena, who he lovingly calls "grams," feel especially warm and genuine-an appropriate mix of 90 percent taunting mother-son banter and 10 percent tender moments. Marie's presentation of Lena's no-nonsense, in-your-face (grand)mothering style garners plenty of knowing laughs. Though their first scene felt a bit stiff on opening night, Tray's big brother relationship with Grayson's Devine grows to feel equally endearing and real. For a college-aged actor, Grayson pulls off a convincingly adorable insecure 12-year-old girl, even if she may over-do the giggles at times. Aquino garners audience empathy in her portrayal of the curious Merrell-a complex, nervous character with a shady past.

The flexible space at the Anacostia playhouse utilizes the full breadth of its unusually wide stage area to spread out almost all of the spaces in which the scenes play out: Lena's kitchen, Tray's boxing gym, a bench on the street outside Devine's school. Some spaces do double duty, but appropriate prop-application and set dressing by Patti Kalil make these switches hardly noticeable. Her set, a reassuring family kitchen, hemmed-in by a gritty, graffiti-ridden urban landscape, accentuates the contrast between the fragile community Tray navigates and the hard-won security of his grandmother's loving home. The use of a simple chain-link fence to divide life from death, and imagination from reality is chilling. A thumping, rap-based soundtrack by Nick tha 1da keeps the heads bobbing, and, together with tasteful costuming by Deb Sivigny completes the urban Brooklyn feel. Cool lighting and crisp, clear sound by William K. D'Eugenio keep the focus on the conversations at hand. There were, however, a few dimly lit scenes when it was difficult to see certain facial expressions that I suspected the audience was supposed to see-an easy fix that feedback should quickly correct.

Brownsville Song (b-side for tray) refutes dangerous assumptions about the "inevitability" of death in poor, urban neighborhoods by showing the incredible magnitude of one life lost. It's a desperately needed conversation in U.S. cities, where shocking inequality remains starkly divided along racial lines, and often separated by a mere few blocks. Emotionally potent, heartily acted, and boldly convicting, this production sings on a human frequency that everyone can hear.

Photo courtesy of C. Stanley Photography

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