Saw it Wednesday afternoon and spent the week thinking about the play and staging. Its genial, knowing, funny, first act has only flashes of the gnarly conflicts that follow; and then the piece coils and strikes with 2021's immediacy and prism, without altering a single word of the original text. To call it prescient denies 1955 America's ugly reality. Those were halcyon days only in the rearview mirror, and only for specific demographics, obviously. Yet what's shocking is the post-millennial nuance Childress brought to a central debate about cultural appropriation and artistic integrity. In the middle of Eisenhower era America. LaChanze, masterfully nailing the protagonist's initial accommodation and then slowly simmering outrage, gives a bravura performance that Childress would've surely cheered. And Chuck Cooper, playing an actor forever sidelined with thankless roles, is heartbreaking and heroic. Michael Zegan, as a director trapped in denial and entitlement is frighteningly recognizable. With theater's comeback volatile, the production isn't selling. If you're in NYC, see it, and hang on for where the play's trajectory takes its characters, and us.
"I'm a comedian, but in my spare time, things bother me." Garry Shandling